Tings are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's masterful trilogies set in a realm that manifests, here more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reassembling themselves along novel and troubling lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is draining from governments, and accumulating in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the grasp of mobs. "Something is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and solid are faltering and failing."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Precisely what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that drives The Rose Field, which picks up where its predecessor concluded. This is, according to many, the author's concluding excursion into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating universe he first introduced three decades past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography maps on to that of the real world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals appear and think and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, essences in creature form; where the heavens are teeming with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but below, transports are taken and tea is drunk, and older scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and persistent main character of the prior volumes, but aged, melancholic, warier, more doubtful. This limitation is amplified by her separation from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to depart in search of that youthful part of her which she seems to have lost (an trait which he represents as her "creativity"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of austere, procedural malice – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's relative, who blames her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the office of head of the authority's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his recently acquired influence to broaden the religion's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued baby the heroine to safety along a flooded Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an academic with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is dispatched to Geneva to learn more about the antagonist's plans. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which seems somehow to be the source of a societal and financial disturbance emanating out from that area. The extract is regarded by various factions as a marketable commodity, by others as a research-based or spiritual phenomenon, and by further factions – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an insult that must be obliterated. The issue of its source, its significance, and if it should be destroyed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to the original trilogy, our protagonist's actions, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply connected with the future of the universe
In the previous volume, these narratives ran largely in tandem. In the conclusion, they merge. Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's choices and her fate are unveiled to be deeply linked with the future of the universe. Her private mission to reconnect with her companion and rediscover her vision becomes the primary battleground in a larger war with an authoritarian system which, as these systems typically do, is seeking to suppress independence of reason, originality and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which humans can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The book opens with the unveiling of a series of unusual fissures in the structure of the planet's air: windows that seem to lead to alternate realities. One such portal manifests to be the point of the highly contested rose oil. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its leadership, classifies these openings as a threat to the religion's beliefs and aims to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to shift from rigid rationalism and revert to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these sites must be defended – that what they stand for and their value is in some way crucial – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a poetic conflict between naivety and maturity is set.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
