Things are unraveling in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a realm that seems, in this volume especially, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along novel and troubling lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from governments, and accumulating in the halls of theocrats, the vaults of corporations, the control of rioters. "Something is at work, silently, gradually", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and durable are deteriorating and giving way."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Just what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that animates The Rose Field, which continues where its predecessor ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final venture into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first introduced three decades past, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose geography corresponds to that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by daemons, souls in creature form; where the skies are filled with witches and legendary creatures, but underneath, vehicles are ridden and drinks is drunk, and older professors carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a child in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the first volume, the origin story with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious heroine of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, more careful, less certain. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to depart in pursuit of that childlike part of her which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with wonder and danger on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in action, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, administrative wickedness – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's relative, who blames her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the office of head of the authority's High Council, and is determined on using his fresh power to extend the religion's dominium. A key character, who saved infant the heroine to refuge along a flooded river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in spycraft: he is assigned to the city to discover more about the antagonist's intentions. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and valuable essential oil which appears somehow to be the cause of a societal and economic crisis emanating out from the region. The oil is viewed by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by alternate groups as a research-based or esoteric phenomenon, and by further factions – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of darkness; an insult that must be obliterated. The issue of where it comes from, what it stands for, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the first series, our protagonist's decisions, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably linked with the fate of the realm
In its predecessor, these storylines ran mostly in side by side. In this final book, they merge. As in the first trilogy, her choices and her path are revealed to be deeply entwined with the fate of the world. Her private quest to rejoin with her daemon and regain her vision becomes the central battleground in a larger battle with an oppressive regime which, as such authorities always have, is attempting to quell independence of thinking, creativity and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The book begins with the unveiling of a series of curious openings in the fabric of the planet's air: windows that look to give on to different dimensions. An example of a window seems to be the source of the much debated mystical extract. The Magisterium, with its leader at its helm, classifies these portals as a challenge to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from strict logic and back to intuition, however, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that their significance and what they provide is in some way vital – strengthens. "Dust, or rose oil, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a poetic conflict between purity and knowledge is prepared.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
