Tings are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that manifests, here more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or reassembling themselves along new and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from authorities, and accumulating in the chambers of religious leaders, the coffers of corporations, the grasp of rioters. "Something is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Things we thought were stable and solid are deteriorating and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Precisely what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that drives The Rose Field, which resumes where the previous book ended. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding venture into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting realm he first unveiled in the distant past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of the real world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the people appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, essences in beast form; where the heavens are filled with sorceresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, transports are caught and tea is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the first volume, the origin story with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still distinctly the spiky and tenacious main character of the prior volumes, but older, melancholic, more careful, more doubtful. This limitation is heightened by her split from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to depart in search of that youthful part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an trait which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and peril on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in action, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of strict, procedural evil – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's uncle, who blames her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the position of head of the church's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his fresh influence to extend the church's dominium. Another protagonist, who carried infant Lyra to security along a flooded Thames as an young boy in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in spycraft: he is dispatched to a key location to find out more about Delamare's intentions. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and valuable essential oil which seems in some way to be the origin of a social and economic disturbance spreading out from the region. The substance is viewed by various factions as a commercial good, by different parties as a empirical or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "highland figures" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be destroyed. The question of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to the original trilogy, Lyra's actions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inseparably connected with the destiny of the world
In its predecessor, these storylines ran mostly in side by side. In this final book, they merge. Similar to the original series, her movements and her path are shown to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the world. Her individual journey to reunite with her companion and regain her creativity becomes the primary struggle in a broader war with an authoritarian government which, as these systems typically do, is striving to quell autonomy of thought, creativity and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The book begins with the finding of a set of unusual openings in the makeup of the planet's air: portals that look to give on to different dimensions. A particular window appears to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The Magisterium, with its leader at its head, labels these openings as a threat to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict rationalism and back to feeling, yet, her belief that these sites must be protected – that what they stand for and what they offer is somehow vital – grows. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a Blakean tussle between innocence and knowledge is set.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
