Things are unraveling in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from governments, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the coffers of business empires, the control of crowds. "Some force is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are faltering and collapsing."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that drives this final volume, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's last foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating realm he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography corresponds to that of this world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals appear and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, souls in beast form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are caught and drinks is sipped, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a child in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which the author began this trilogy, is now a adult: still recognisably the spiky and persistent main character of the previous installments, but aged, melancholic, more careful, less certain. This circumscription is intensified by her split from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to go off in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and peril on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the faith's controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of rigid, procedural malice – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's family member, who blames her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of president of the Magisterium's governing body, and is intent on using his fresh power to broaden the church's dominium. A key character, who carried baby the heroine to refuge along a overflowing river as an young boy in the first book, is now an university scholar with a sideline in espionage: he is dispatched to the city to learn more about Delamare's aims. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable botanical extract which seems in some way to be the source of a societal and financial disturbance rippling out from Central Asia. The extract is seen by certain groups as a marketable product, by others as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by others still – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a origin of evil; an challenge that must be destroyed. The issue of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be eliminated or protected is escalating in importance.
Like the first series, Lyra's actions, and her fate, are revealed to be inextricably connected with the fate of the world
In its predecessor, these storylines ran largely in parallel. In the conclusion, they come together. Like the first trilogy, Lyra's actions and her path are unveiled to be inextricably woven with the fate of the world. Her personal quest to rejoin with her daemon and recover her vision becomes the primary conflict in a larger conflict with an authoritarian system which, as such regimes always have, is striving to stifle freedom of thought, originality and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The novel begins with the discovery of a series of curious cracks in the structure of the planet's sky: portals that seem to open into alternate realities. A particular window manifests to be the origin of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The church, with its leader at its head, classifies these windows as a threat to the religion's doctrine and aims to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to move from strict logic and return to intuition, nevertheless, her certainty that these sites must be defended – that their meaning and their value is mysteriously vital – grows. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a philosophical struggle between innocence and maturity is prepared.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
