Things are falling apart in the last installment of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a world that manifests, here more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along new and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is draining from states, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of business empires, the hands of mobs. "Something is at work, silently, very subtly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were stable and solid are faltering and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Just what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates The Rose Field, which continues where the previous book ended. This is, according to many, the author's final venture into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting universe he first introduced 30 years ago, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, essences in creature form; where the heavens are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, transports are taken and tea is drunk, and mature scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious heroine of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, warier, less sure. This limitation is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to leave in search of that innocent part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an trait which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a wandering journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with amazement and danger on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of austere, administrative wickedness – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's uncle, who faults her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the position of leader of the authority's governing body, and is determined on using his recently acquired influence to broaden the institution's dominium. Another protagonist, who rescued baby Lyra to safety along a overflowing Thames as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a sideline in spycraft: he is sent to Geneva to discover more about his aims. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and precious botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the cause of a social and economic upheaval emanating out from that area. The extract is seen by some as a marketable good, by alternate groups as a scientific or esoteric wonder, and by others still – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of its origins, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or protected is becoming urgent.
Similar to His Dark Materials, our protagonist's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply connected with the future of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran broadly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they converge. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's choices and her path are shown to be inseparably woven with the future of the realm. Her individual mission to reunite with her daemon and recover her imagination becomes the central battleground in a larger battle with an oppressive government which, as these systems typically do, is seeking to quell autonomy of thinking, innovation and art: all the inner, defiant ways in which individuals can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The book begins with the unveiling of a series of curious cracks in the makeup of the Earth's sky: gateways that appear to open into different dimensions. A particular window seems to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its head, classifies these openings as a problem to the religion's doctrine and sets out to destroy them. As Lyra begins to move from strict logic and revert to instinct, yet, her belief that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and their value is somehow essential – strengthens. "Dust, or the extract, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean conflict between naivety and maturity is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
