Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, here more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or restructuring themselves along new and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the halls of religious leaders, the vaults of business empires, the control of mobs. "An element is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are weakening and failing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that animates The Rose Field, which resumes where its predecessor concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding venture into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling universe he first revealed 30 years ago, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose geography corresponds to that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and think and behave like us, but are paired by external spirits, essences in beast form; where the heavens are filled with witches and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged scholars carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which Pullman began the series, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the prickly and tenacious protagonist of the earlier books, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, less sure. This circumscription is amplified by her separation from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to leave in quest of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an trait which he represents as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with amazement and risk on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in play, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the authority's High Council, and is determined on using his recently acquired influence to broaden the religion's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who saved infant Lyra to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a sideline in intelligence work: he is sent to the city to find out more about the antagonist's intentions. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and valuable botanical extract which manifests in some way to be the cause of a social and financial crisis emanating out from Central Asia. The extract is regarded by some as a tradeable good, by different parties as a research-based or mystical wonder, and by others still – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be eliminated or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the first series, our protagonist's actions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inextricably connected with the future of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran largely in parallel. In The Rose Field, they converge. As in the original series, her choices and her path are unveiled to be inseparably woven with the future of the realm. Her private quest to reconnect with her soul and rediscover her imagination becomes the key conflict in a broader war with an oppressive government which, as such authorities typically do, is seeking to suppress freedom of thinking, innovation and expression: all the internal, rebellious ways in which humans can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The novel starts with the finding of a series of unusual fissures in the makeup of the planet's atmosphere: gateways that seem to open into alternate realities. A particular opening seems to be the point of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The authority, with the antagonist at its helm, designates these windows as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and endeavors to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from inflexible reason and return to intuition, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be protected – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow crucial – increases. "Dust, or the substance, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a philosophical tussle between naivety and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
