Things are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along new and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is draining from authorities, and accumulating in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of business empires, the grasp of crowds. "An element is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are faltering and giving way."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Just what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which picks up where the previous book concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's final foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled in the distant past, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose terrain aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the individuals look and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, essences in beast form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but below, transports are ridden and beverages is sipped, and mature scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still clearly the spiky and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but more mature, melancholic, warier, more doubtful. This circumscription is amplified by her split from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to go off in quest of that youthful part of her which she may have forgotten (an quality which he represents as her "imagination"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a wandering voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with wonder and peril on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in play, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of austere, procedural malice – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the authority's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his recently acquired influence to expand the religion's control. A key character, who rescued young Lyra to refuge along a swollen Thames as an young boy in the prequel, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is assigned to the city to learn more about Delamare's plans. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable rose oil which seems somehow to be the origin of a societal and economic disturbance rippling out from Central Asia. The substance is viewed by various factions as a commercial product, by others as a research-based or spiritual miracle, and by yet others – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and if it should be destroyed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the first series, our protagonist's deeds, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inextricably linked with the future of the world
In its predecessor, these storylines ran mostly in parallel. In The Rose Field, they converge. As in His Dark Materials, the protagonist's actions and her fate are unveiled to be deeply linked with the future of the universe. Her individual quest to reconnect with her soul and regain her creativity becomes the key struggle in a wider battle with an controlling government which, as such authorities always have, is striving to suppress freedom of reason, creativity and art: all the internal, rebellious ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The story starts with the unveiling of a collection of strange fissures in the structure of the planet's air: gateways that seem to give on to alternate realities. A particular window appears to be the origin of the much debated rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its leadership, labels these openings as a threat to the institution's beliefs and aims to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to move from rigid rationalism and back to intuition, nevertheless, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that their meaning and what they provide is somehow essential – strengthens. "The substance, or the substance, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a philosophical conflict between innocence and knowledge is established.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
