Tings are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that manifests, here more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is draining from authorities, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the hands of crowds. "Something is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and durable are weakening and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that animates this final volume, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled in the distant past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose landscape maps on to that of this world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, beings in creature form; where the heavens are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, transports are taken and tea is consumed, and older scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a child in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the spiky and determined main character of the earlier books, but aged, more sorrowful, warier, less sure. This limitation is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to leave in search of that youthful part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an trait which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw the protagonist undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and risk on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in play, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the religious governing authority, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, administrative malice – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who faults her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the role of head of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his fresh power to extend the religion's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who carried infant the heroine to safety along a flooded river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is dispatched to a key location to discover more about the antagonist's aims. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and costly rose oil which seems mysteriously to be the source of a social and economic disturbance emanating out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by some as a marketable product, by others as a empirical or spiritual phenomenon, and by further factions – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of evil; an challenge that must be eradicated. The question of its source, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the first series, Lyra's decisions, and her future, are demonstrated to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the realm
In the previous volume, these narratives ran mostly in tandem. In the conclusion, they come together. Like the first trilogy, her choices and her destiny are shown to be inseparably linked with the future of the universe. Her private quest to reunite with her companion and rediscover her imagination becomes the primary struggle in a broader battle with an oppressive government which, as such regimes typically do, is seeking to suppress independence of thought, originality and expression: all the inner, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The novel opens with the finding of a collection of curious fissures in the structure of the Earth's air: portals that look to give on to different dimensions. A particular portal seems to be the source of the highly contested botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its head, labels these openings as a threat to the religion's doctrine and aims to destroy them. As Lyra begins to turn away from inflexible rationalism and revert to intuition, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be preserved – that their significance and their value is in some way vital – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or whatever we name it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a philosophical conflict between purity and experience is established.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
