Things are unraveling in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that seems, in this volume especially, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Organizations are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from governments, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the hands of crowds. "An element is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his place in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and solid are weakening and giving way."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which picks up where its predecessor concluded. This is, by all accounts, the author's last foray into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting realm he first unveiled in the distant past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a world whose geography aligns with that of this world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, souls in animal form; where the skies are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but below, buses are taken and drinks is drunk, and mature academics carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still clearly the spiky and tenacious heroine of the prior volumes, but more mature, more sorrowful, more cautious, more doubtful. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to depart in quest of that childlike part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an quality which he represents as her "imagination"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and peril on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in play, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the faith's controlling power, and Pullman's masterfully eerie representation of rigid, administrative malice – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – the heroine's relative, who blames her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the role of president of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his fresh influence to extend the church's rule. Another protagonist, who carried young the heroine to safety along a overflowing river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in intelligence work: he is assigned to the city to learn more about the antagonist's aims. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which manifests in some way to be the origin of a societal and economic upheaval emanating out from the region. The oil is regarded by some as a tradeable commodity, by others as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of malevolence; an challenge that must be obliterated. The dilemma of where it comes from, what it stands for, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to the first series, our protagonist's deeds, and her future, are shown to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran broadly in tandem. In this final book, they converge. Similar to His Dark Materials, the protagonist's movements and her path are unveiled to be inseparably linked with the future of the realm. Her personal quest to reconnect with her companion and regain her imagination becomes the primary struggle in a wider conflict with an authoritarian regime which, as such regimes always have, is striving to suppress independence of reason, innovation and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The story begins with the finding of a set of unusual openings in the structure of the world's air: windows that appear to open into different dimensions. An example of a window appears to be the source of the highly contested botanical substance. The authority, with the antagonist at its leadership, designates these openings as a challenge to the religion's orthodoxy and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from inflexible reason and return to instinct, nevertheless, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and what they provide is in some way essential – strengthens. "The substance, or the extract, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean struggle between purity and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
