Things are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, in this volume especially, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from states, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of business empires, the control of rioters. "An element is at work, stealthily, gradually", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are faltering and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Exactly what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates The Rose Field, which picks up where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding excursion into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of this world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, beings in animal form; where the air are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, buses are taken and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged professors carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the spiky and persistent protagonist of the earlier books, but more mature, sadder, warier, more doubtful. This limitation is intensified by her division from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to leave in pursuit of that childlike part of her which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and risk on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the religious governing authority, and the author's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, administrative malice – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. The antagonist – our protagonist's relative, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the position of leader of the church's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his newfound authority to expand the religion's rule. A key character, who carried young the heroine to safety along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is sent to a key location to discover more about Delamare's aims. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and precious botanical extract which seems in some way to be the source of a societal and financial crisis spreading out from the region. The substance is viewed by certain groups as a commercial good, by different parties as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by others still – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of malevolence; an affront that must be destroyed. The issue of its origins, its significance, and if it should be eliminated or protected is escalating in importance.
As in the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be inextricably entwined with the future of the universe
In the previous volume, these narratives ran largely in parallel. In this final book, they come together. Like the original series, her movements and her fate are revealed to be deeply woven with the destiny of the world. Her private quest to reunite with her companion and regain her vision becomes the key struggle in a wider battle with an controlling system which, as such regimes often attempt, is seeking to suppress independence of thought, originality and expression: all the inner, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The book opens with the unveiling of a collection of strange fissures in the makeup of the planet's air: windows that appear to give on to other worlds. An example of a portal appears to be the source of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The authority, with its leader at its helm, designates these windows as a challenge to the religion's orthodoxy and endeavors to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to move from rigid rationalism and return to intuition, yet, her belief that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously vital – increases. "The substance, or the substance, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a philosophical conflict between innocence and maturity is set.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
