Things are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of the author's masterful trilogies set in a world that manifests, in this volume especially, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from states, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of business empires, the hands of mobs. "An element is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are faltering and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which picks up where the previous book concluded. This is, according to many, the author's final venture into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting world he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose landscape aligns with that of the real world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and behave like us, but are joined by daemons, essences in creature form; where the skies are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, vehicles are ridden and tea is sipped, and mature scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still clearly the prickly and tenacious heroine of the prior volumes, but aged, more sorrowful, warier, less certain. This restraint is heightened by her split from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to go off in pursuit of that childlike part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an trait which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a wandering journey across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with wonder and risk on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in play, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister embodiment of austere, administrative wickedness – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's uncle, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of president of the authority's High Council, and is intent on using his fresh power to broaden the institution's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who saved baby Lyra to security along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is sent to the city to discover more about the antagonist's plans. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and costly rose oil which manifests in some way to be the origin of a social and economic disturbance spreading out from Central Asia. The oil is viewed by various factions as a commercial commodity, by different parties as a research-based or esoteric phenomenon, and by further factions – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be eradicated. The issue of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be destroyed or preserved is becoming urgent.
Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran mostly in side by side. In the conclusion, they merge. As in the original series, the protagonist's choices and her destiny are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the world. Her individual journey to reunite with her daemon and rediscover her imagination becomes the central struggle in a broader conflict with an authoritarian government which, as such regimes often attempt, is striving to suppress autonomy of reason, originality and art: all the inner, defiant ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The story starts with the unveiling of a series of unusual cracks in the structure of the planet's atmosphere: gateways that seem to lead to other worlds. An example of a window appears to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with its leader at its leadership, designates these openings as a challenge to the religion's orthodoxy and aims to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict rationalism and revert to instinct, nevertheless, her certainty that these locations must be defended – that their meaning and what they offer is in some way essential – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a philosophical tussle between purity and experience is established.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
