Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that seems, in this volume especially, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is draining from states, and pooling in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of corporations, the hands of rioters. "An element is at work, silently, very subtly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his place in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are deteriorating and failing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Precisely what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that propels this final volume, which picks up where the previous book ended. This is, according to many, Pullman's last venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating realm he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography corresponds to that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by daemons, souls in animal form; where the heavens are teeming with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, vehicles are caught and tea is consumed, and mature academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a adult: still distinctly the spiky and determined main character of the previous installments, but more mature, melancholic, warier, less certain. This restraint is intensified by her division from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to leave in search of that innocent part of her which she may have forgotten (an quality which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a wandering voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in action, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of austere, bureaucratic evil – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – our protagonist's family member, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the authority's governing body, and is determined on using his fresh influence to expand the religion's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who carried baby Lyra to safety along a overflowing river as an young boy in the first book, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in espionage: he is sent to Geneva to discover more about his intentions. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and precious rose oil which manifests in some way to be the origin of a social and economic upheaval spreading out from the region. The extract is seen by some as a tradeable good, by different parties as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a source of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The dilemma of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Like the first series, our protagonist's deeds, and her future, are shown to be inseparably connected with the future of the realm
In the previous volume, these plots ran mostly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they come together. As in His Dark Materials, her choices and her path are shown to be deeply entwined with the fate of the world. Her individual journey to reunite with her daemon and rediscover her vision becomes the primary struggle in a wider conflict with an controlling government which, as such regimes often attempt, is striving to suppress autonomy of thought, originality and culture: all the internal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The novel begins with the finding of a set of strange fissures in the fabric of the planet's atmosphere: gateways that seem to give on to different dimensions. One such opening appears to be the source of the highly contested mystical extract. The church, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these openings as a threat to the institution's beliefs and sets out to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to move from inflexible rationalism and revert to intuition, however, her conviction that these sites must be protected – that their meaning and what they offer is in some way vital – increases. "Dust, or the substance, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or whatever we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a philosophical struggle between purity and experience is established.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
