Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that seems, in this volume especially, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along new and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is draining from states, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the grasp of crowds. "Something is at work, silently, gradually", says merchant a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were stable and durable are faltering and giving way."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that animates The Rose Field, which resumes where the previous book concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating world he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a world whose terrain corresponds to that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, beings in beast form; where the heavens are filled with witches and legendary creatures, but below, transports are ridden and tea is sipped, and middle-aged professors carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious heroine of the earlier books, but more mature, melancholic, more cautious, more doubtful. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to go off in quest of that innocent part of her which she appears to have shed (an trait which he represents as her "vision"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with wonder and danger on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the faith's governing authority, and the author's deliciously chilling representation of rigid, bureaucratic malice – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's relative, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the office of president of the church's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his recently acquired influence to extend the church's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who saved infant Lyra to security along a flooded river as an child in the prequel, is now an academic with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is assigned to a key location to learn more about Delamare's aims. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and precious botanical extract which appears mysteriously to be the cause of a societal and financial disturbance emanating out from Central Asia. The extract is viewed by certain groups as a commercial product, by alternate groups as a research-based or esoteric miracle, and by further factions – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an challenge that must be destroyed. The question of its origins, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to the original trilogy, the heroine's decisions, and her future, are demonstrated to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the universe
In the previous volume, these plots ran mostly in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. As in the original series, the protagonist's movements and her path are shown to be inextricably linked with the fate of the realm. Her individual mission to reconnect with her daemon and regain her vision becomes the central battleground in a larger battle with an controlling system which, as such authorities often attempt, is striving to quell independence of thought, innovation and expression: all the internal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The story starts with the unveiling of a set of strange openings in the fabric of the world's atmosphere: gateways that seem to lead to different dimensions. A particular opening appears to be the source of the highly contested rose oil. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its helm, designates these openings as a threat to the institution's orthodoxy and sets out to destroy them. As the heroine begins to move from rigid reason and return to instinct, nevertheless, her conviction that these sites must be defended – that their significance and what they provide is mysteriously vital – strengthens. "Dust, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a poetic tussle between innocence and knowledge is set.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
