Things are falling apart in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that manifests, now more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reorganizing themselves along novel and troubling lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from governments, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of crowds. "Some force is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and strong are faltering and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Just what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that animates the concluding book, which picks up where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final excursion into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled three decades past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose terrain aligns with that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, beings in beast form; where the heavens are teeming with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, vehicles are taken and tea is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still distinctly the prickly and persistent protagonist of the earlier books, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to leave in pursuit of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he represents as her "vision"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with amazement and risk on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in play, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the faith's governing authority, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of austere, bureaucratic malice – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the office of leader of the Magisterium's High Council, and is set on using his fresh influence to broaden the religion's rule. Another protagonist, who saved young the heroine to security along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an university scholar with a sideline in intelligence work: he is assigned to the city to find out more about Delamare's plans. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and costly botanical extract which appears in some way to be the origin of a societal and economic disturbance spreading out from Central Asia. The extract is seen by certain groups as a commercial good, by different parties as a research-based or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "highland figures" – as a origin of evil; an challenge that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to His Dark Materials, our protagonist's decisions, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply entwined with the fate of the realm
In its predecessor, these plots ran broadly in parallel. In the conclusion, they come together. Like the original series, Lyra's actions and her destiny are revealed to be inextricably woven with the future of the universe. Her personal quest to reunite with her companion and regain her vision becomes the primary battleground in a larger conflict with an oppressive regime which, as these systems typically do, is seeking to stifle autonomy of thought, originality and culture: all the personal, defiant ways in which humans can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The book starts with the discovery of a series of curious openings in the fabric of the world's atmosphere: windows that appear to give on to alternate realities. One such window seems to be the point of the much debated botanical substance. The authority, with its leader at its helm, classifies these portals as a threat to the church's doctrine and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict logic and revert to feeling, however, her certainty that these sites must be defended – that what they stand for and what they offer is somehow vital – strengthens. "The substance, or the extract, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a Blakean conflict between purity and maturity is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
