Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, here more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, 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". Power is shifting from governments, and pooling in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of business empires, the hands of crowds. "Something is at work, silently, very subtly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were stable and strong are faltering and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that animates the concluding book, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding venture into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose terrain aligns with that of the real world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans appear and think and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, souls in creature form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, buses are ridden and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a child in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still distinctly the sharp and tenacious main character of the prior volumes, but older, more sorrowful, more careful, less certain. This restraint is intensified by her separation from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to leave in quest of that innocent part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which followed the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in play, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of austere, procedural wickedness – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's uncle, who blames her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the position of head of the church's governing body, and is intent on using his newfound power to broaden the church's rule. Another protagonist, who carried young Lyra to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in espionage: he is dispatched to the city to learn more about his plans. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and costly botanical extract which seems in some way to be the cause of a societal and economic disturbance rippling out from that area. The substance is seen by some as a marketable product, by alternate groups as a research-based or esoteric miracle, and by further factions – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a origin of evil; an challenge that must be obliterated. The question of its origins, its significance, and if it should be destroyed or preserved is becoming urgent.
Similar to the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply linked with the fate of the universe
In the previous volume, these plots ran largely in side by side. In The Rose Field, they converge. As in the first trilogy, Lyra's movements and her path are revealed to be inextricably woven with the future of the realm. Her individual quest to reconnect with her soul and regain her creativity becomes the key conflict in a larger war with an authoritarian government which, as these systems always have, is attempting to quell autonomy of reason, innovation and art: all the inner, resistant ways in which people can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The story starts with the discovery of a set of strange openings in the fabric of the world's sky: gateways that look to open into different dimensions. A particular window seems to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with the antagonist at its head, designates these portals as a challenge to the institution's orthodoxy and aims to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to move from rigid reason and revert to intuition, nevertheless, her certainty that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and what they offer is somehow vital – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a Blakean conflict between purity and knowledge is prepared.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
