Things are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a realm that seems, in this volume especially, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along novel and troubling lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from states, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of corporations, the hands of mobs. "Something is at work, stealthily, gradually", says merchant a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and giving way."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that propels the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, according to many, the author's final foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating realm he first introduced in the distant past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a world whose geography corresponds to that of the real world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the individuals look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by daemons, essences in beast form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and beverages is sipped, and older academics carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the prequel, the origin story with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a adult: still clearly the prickly and persistent protagonist of the prior volumes, but aged, melancholic, warier, less certain. This circumscription is heightened by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to go off in quest of that innocent part of her which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and peril on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the faith's governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of austere, bureaucratic evil – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of president of the Magisterium's High Council, and is determined on using his newfound power to extend the institution's rule. A key character, who rescued young Lyra to refuge along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in spycraft: he is dispatched to the city to learn more about Delamare's intentions. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which appears somehow to be the cause of a social and economic disturbance rippling out from that area. The oil is viewed by some as a commercial product, by different parties as a empirical or spiritual phenomenon, and by yet others – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or preserved is becoming urgent.
As in the original trilogy, Lyra's decisions, and her future, are shown to be inextricably linked with the fate of the universe
In its predecessor, these narratives ran mostly in parallel. In the conclusion, they converge. Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her destiny are unveiled to be inextricably woven with the destiny of the realm. Her individual quest to reconnect with her daemon and recover her vision becomes the key struggle in a wider conflict with an controlling system which, as these systems always have, is attempting to stifle autonomy of reason, originality and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The story begins with the finding of a collection of curious openings in the structure of the planet's atmosphere: gateways that look to open into other worlds. An example of a portal seems to be the origin of the highly contested mystical extract. The church, with its leader at its helm, designates these portals as a problem to the church's orthodoxy and aims to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from strict rationalism and revert to instinct, however, her conviction that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and their value is somehow crucial – grows. "The substance, or the substance, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we name it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a philosophical tussle between innocence and maturity is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
