Tings are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that manifests, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along new and troubling lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from governments, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the hands of rioters. "Something is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an city cafe. "Things we thought were stable and strong are faltering and failing."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Exactly what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that animates The Rose Field, which continues where the previous book concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's last foray into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting world he first introduced in the distant past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose geography maps on to that of the real world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, souls in animal form; where the heavens are populated with witches and gryphons, but below, transports are caught and beverages is consumed, and older academics carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious heroine of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, warier, less sure. This circumscription is heightened by her split from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to leave in quest of that innocent part of her which she may have forgotten (an trait which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous trek across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with marvel and peril on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in action, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of head of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his newfound authority to extend the church's rule. Another protagonist, who carried young the heroine to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in espionage: he is sent to a key location to find out more about Delamare's aims. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and precious rose oil which manifests mysteriously to be the cause of a societal and financial upheaval rippling out from Central Asia. The oil is viewed by certain groups as a commercial good, by alternate groups as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by further factions – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of darkness; an insult that must be destroyed. The issue of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be eliminated or protected is escalating in importance.
As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions, and her fate, are revealed to be deeply connected with the future of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran largely in side by side. In the conclusion, they merge. Similar to the first trilogy, her actions and her fate are revealed to be deeply woven with the destiny of the universe. Her private quest to reunite with her soul and recover her imagination becomes the central struggle in a wider conflict with an controlling regime which, as these systems often attempt, is seeking to quell autonomy of reason, creativity and culture: all the inner, defiant ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The book starts with the unveiling of a set of curious openings in the fabric of the Earth's air: windows that appear to lead to different dimensions. One such opening manifests to be the source of the much debated botanical substance. The authority, with the antagonist at its helm, designates these windows as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and endeavors to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to move from rigid logic and return to intuition, yet, her conviction that these sites must be defended – that their significance and their value is mysteriously crucial – increases. "Dust, or the substance, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we name it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a Blakean struggle between naivety and experience is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
