Tings are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that manifests, now more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from authorities, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of business empires, the control of crowds. "Some force is at work, silently, gradually", says merchant a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were firm and solid are deteriorating and failing."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Just what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that animates the concluding book, which picks up where its predecessor ended. This is, according to many, Pullman's last excursion into the elaborately built, deeply captivating realm he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of the real world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and act like us, but are paired by animal souls, souls in creature form; where the heavens are populated with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but below, buses are caught and tea is sipped, and mature professors carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the first volume, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still clearly the spiky and determined protagonist of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, more cautious, less sure. This restraint is intensified by her division from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to depart in quest of that innocent part of her which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with amazement and risk on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of strict, administrative wickedness – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the authority's governing body, and is set on using his recently acquired influence to expand the institution's rule. A key character, who carried baby the heroine to refuge along a swollen river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in intelligence work: he is assigned to Geneva to discover more about his plans. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which seems somehow to be the source of a social and financial disturbance emanating out from Central Asia. The substance is viewed by certain groups as a commercial good, by different parties as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by further factions – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of evil; an insult that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its origins, its significance, and if it should be removed or preserved is becoming urgent.
Like the first series, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the world
In the previous volume, these plots ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to His Dark Materials, the protagonist's movements and her path are revealed to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the universe. Her private journey to reconnect with her daemon and rediscover her imagination becomes the primary conflict in a larger conflict with an authoritarian system which, as these systems always have, is seeking to suppress autonomy of reason, innovation and culture: all the personal, resistant ways in which people can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The story opens with the finding of a series of curious fissures in the fabric of the planet's air: portals that appear to give on to other worlds. An example of a portal seems to be the origin of the highly contested mystical extract. The authority, with Delamare at its leadership, designates these windows as a threat to the institution's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to move from strict rationalism and back to instinct, however, her belief that these locations must be preserved – that their significance and their value is somehow vital – strengthens. "Dust, or the substance, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a Blakean conflict between purity and experience is set.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
