Things are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that appears, here more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from authorities, and pooling in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the control of rioters. "An element is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and solid are weakening and failing."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that propels this final volume, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, according to many, the author's concluding excursion into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting world he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose terrain corresponds to that of our world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans look and reason and behave like us, but are paired by external spirits, souls in creature form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and gryphons, but underneath, vehicles are ridden and beverages is drunk, and older scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the sharp and persistent heroine of the previous installments, but more mature, more sorrowful, warier, less sure. This restraint is heightened by her split from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to depart in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he represents as her "vision"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a wandering journey across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of strict, administrative wickedness – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of head of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his newfound authority to expand the church's control. A key character, who carried young the heroine to safety along a flooded Thames as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a additional duty in spycraft: he is sent to the city to learn more about his plans. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and valuable botanical extract which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a social and financial upheaval emanating out from that area. The substance is viewed by certain groups as a commercial commodity, by different parties as a empirical or esoteric phenomenon, and by others still – the extremist "highland figures" – as a origin of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The question of its source, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or preserved is becoming urgent.
As in His Dark Materials, our protagonist's deeds, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply entwined with the fate of the world
In the previous volume, these plots ran broadly in parallel. In The Rose Field, they come together. Like the first trilogy, the protagonist's actions and her destiny are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the future of the universe. Her private quest to reunite with her companion and recover her vision becomes the key battleground in a larger conflict with an oppressive government which, as such regimes always have, is attempting to stifle independence of thinking, originality and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The novel begins with the finding of a set of unusual cracks in the fabric of the world's atmosphere: gateways that look to give on to other worlds. One such opening manifests to be the source of the much debated mystical extract. The authority, with the antagonist at its helm, classifies these portals as a threat to the religion's doctrine and endeavors to destroy them. As the heroine begins to move from inflexible reason and revert to feeling, yet, her conviction that these places must be preserved – that their significance and their value is somehow vital – increases. "Dust, or the extract, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a philosophical struggle between purity and experience is prepared.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
