Tings are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that seems, in this volume especially, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reassembling themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of business empires, the control of rioters. "Something is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his post in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are deteriorating and failing."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight 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, infinitely beguiling universe he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose terrain aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and act like us, but are joined by animal souls, beings in creature form; where the heavens are populated with witches and mythical beasts, but underneath, vehicles are caught and beverages is sipped, and older professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still clearly the sharp and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but older, sadder, warier, less certain. This circumscription is intensified by her split from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to go off in quest of that youthful part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an trait which he represents as her "vision"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with wonder and risk on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in action, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the faith's ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of head of the authority's governing body, and is determined on using his newfound influence to extend the religion's control. Another protagonist, who rescued baby Lyra to refuge along a swollen Thames as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in espionage: he is dispatched to the city to find out more about the antagonist's plans. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and costly rose oil which seems mysteriously to be the source of a social and financial disturbance spreading out from the region. The substance is regarded by some as a commercial product, by different parties as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by others still – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The issue of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to the original trilogy, our protagonist's decisions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inseparably entwined with the future of the realm
In the previous volume, these plots ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they merge. Like His Dark Materials, the protagonist's actions and her destiny are unveiled to be inseparably linked with the future of the realm. Her private quest to reunite with her soul and rediscover her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a wider war with an oppressive system which, as such authorities typically do, is attempting to stifle independence of reason, creativity and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The story opens with the discovery of a series of curious fissures in the structure of the planet's atmosphere: gateways that look to lead to other worlds. One such portal manifests to be the point of the highly contested rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its helm, labels these windows as a threat to the institution's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to move from inflexible logic and revert to instinct, nevertheless, her certainty that these sites must be preserved – that their significance and what they provide is somehow essential – strengthens. "Dust, or rose oil, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a philosophical struggle between innocence and experience is set.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
