Things are collapsing in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that seems, here more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reassembling themselves along new and troubling lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from authorities, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of business empires, the hands of crowds. "An element is at work, very quietly, gradually", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and solid are deteriorating and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that animates The Rose Field, which resumes where the previous book ended. This is, according to many, the author's final venture into the elaborately built, deeply captivating realm he first introduced three decades past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose landscape corresponds to that of the real world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the individuals look and think and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, essences in beast form; where the heavens are populated with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, buses are ridden and tea is drunk, and older scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the first volume, the introductory book with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a adult: still recognisably the sharp and persistent protagonist of the prior volumes, but aged, melancholic, warier, less sure. This limitation is amplified by her division from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to go off in quest of that youthful part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and danger on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in play, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the faith's governing authority, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of austere, procedural malice – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the office of leader of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his newfound influence to broaden the church's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued infant the heroine to security along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in espionage: he is sent to a key location to discover more about the antagonist's plans. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and valuable botanical extract which appears in some way to be the cause of a social and economic crisis spreading out from that area. The extract is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable good, by different parties as a research-based or mystical miracle, and by further factions – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of evil; an affront that must be eradicated. The issue of its origins, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Like the first series, our protagonist's decisions, and her destiny, are shown to be inseparably linked with the fate of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran broadly in parallel. In the conclusion, they merge. Like the first trilogy, her movements and her destiny are revealed to be inextricably woven with the future of the universe. Her private journey to reconnect with her companion and rediscover her vision becomes the primary struggle in a larger war with an controlling regime which, as such authorities often attempt, is seeking to quell independence of thought, creativity and expression: all the inner, resistant ways in which humans can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The novel starts with the unveiling of a set of curious fissures in the makeup of the Earth's sky: windows that look to give on to alternate realities. An example of a opening seems to be the point of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its helm, classifies these openings as a problem to the church's doctrine and sets out to destroy them. As Lyra begins to move from inflexible logic and back to feeling, yet, her certainty that these places must be defended – that what they stand for and what they provide is somehow vital – grows. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean tussle between innocence and experience is set.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
