Tings are falling apart in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Establishments are failing, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from governments, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of corporations, the control of crowds. "Something is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were stable and solid are faltering and failing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that propels this final volume, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last venture into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling world he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by daemons, beings in beast form; where the skies are teeming with enchantresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, transports are taken and drinks is drunk, and older scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the first volume, the origin story with which the author began the series, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the spiky and persistent protagonist of the prior volumes, but older, sadder, more cautious, more doubtful. This circumscription is intensified by her division from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to leave in quest of that innocent part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an trait which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and danger on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in motion, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of rigid, bureaucratic evil – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's family member, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's High Council, and is set on using his fresh authority to extend the institution's dominium. A key character, who saved baby the heroine to safety along a flooded river as an young boy in the first book, is now an academic with a secondary role in espionage: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's aims. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and costly essential oil which manifests in some way to be the cause of a societal and economic crisis spreading out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by some as a commercial product, by alternate groups as a empirical or esoteric miracle, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The dilemma of where it comes from, its meaning, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions, and her destiny, are shown to be inextricably connected with the destiny of the realm
In its predecessor, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they merge. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions and her destiny are shown to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the universe. Her private mission to reunite with her soul and regain her creativity becomes the primary conflict in a wider conflict with an authoritarian regime which, as these systems always have, is seeking to quell independence of thought, originality and expression: all the personal, resistant ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The novel starts with the finding of a collection of unusual openings in the structure of the planet's air: windows that seem to give on to alternate realities. A particular window manifests to be the origin of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The church, with the antagonist at its leadership, classifies these openings as a threat to the religion's beliefs and sets out to destroy them. As the heroine begins to shift from rigid rationalism and return to intuition, yet, her certainty that these sites must be protected – that what they stand for and their value is mysteriously essential – grows. "The substance, or the substance, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a poetic conflict between innocence and maturity is set.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
