Tings are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that manifests, here more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is draining from states, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "Some force is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an city cafe. "Things we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that drives this final volume, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's last venture into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating realm he first revealed three decades past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a world whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and behave like us, but are paired by daemons, beings in animal form; where the skies are filled with witches and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, buses are ridden and drinks is consumed, and mature academics carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a mature individual: still clearly the sharp and persistent heroine of the previous installments, but aged, melancholic, more cautious, less certain. This circumscription is intensified by her split from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to depart in quest of that innocent part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with marvel and risk on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in motion, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the faith's ruling body, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of austere, administrative wickedness – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's family member, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of leader of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is set on using his recently acquired power to broaden the church's control. Another protagonist, who carried infant Lyra to safety along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an academic with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to a key location to discover more about his plans. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and costly essential oil which manifests in some way to be the cause of a societal and economic disturbance rippling out from that area. The oil is seen by some as a tradeable product, by different parties as a research-based or spiritual miracle, and by further factions – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a origin of evil; an insult that must be eradicated. The question of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to the first series, our protagonist's deeds, and her fate, are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the realm
In its predecessor, these storylines ran largely in parallel. In this final book, they come together. Similar to the first trilogy, Lyra's choices and her destiny are unveiled to be inseparably woven with the destiny of the universe. Her personal quest to rejoin with her soul and recover her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a wider battle with an oppressive government which, as such authorities always have, is attempting to suppress autonomy of reason, creativity and expression: all the inner, defiant ways in which humans can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The novel opens with the unveiling of a series of strange cracks in the structure of the planet's atmosphere: gateways that seem to give on to other worlds. One such opening seems to be the point of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The authority, with Delamare at its head, designates these windows as a threat to the religion's beliefs and aims to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from rigid logic and revert to instinct, yet, her conviction that these places must be protected – that their significance and what they provide is in some way vital – grows. "The substance, or the substance, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a poetic conflict between innocence and knowledge is set.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
