Things are unraveling in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that manifests, in this volume especially, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along new and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from governments, and accumulating in the halls of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of rioters. "Some force is at work, silently, very subtly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and solid are weakening and giving way."
Exactly what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates this final volume, which picks up where the previous book concluded. This is, by all accounts, the author's concluding excursion into the elaborately built, deeply captivating universe he first introduced three decades past, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose geography corresponds to that of the real world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the people appear and reason and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in animal form; where the air are populated with sorceresses and gryphons, but below, vehicles are caught and drinks is drunk, and older academics carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a child in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the sharp and persistent protagonist of the earlier books, but aged, melancholic, more careful, less sure. This circumscription is intensified by her separation from her soul companion, Pan β but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Pan's decision to go off in search of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he represents as her "imagination"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which chronicled Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and risk on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority β the religious ruling body, and the author's masterfully eerie representation of rigid, administrative wickedness β is under new leadership, and asserting its power. The antagonist β the heroine's relative, who blames her for his sibling's death β has positioned himself into the position of leader of the authority's High Council, and is determined on using his newfound influence to extend the religion's rule. A key character, who rescued infant the heroine to refuge along a swollen river as an child in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in espionage: he is sent to a key location to discover more about Delamare's intentions. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and precious essential oil which manifests in some way to be the origin of a societal and economic disturbance rippling out from Central Asia. The extract is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a scientific or spiritual miracle, and by yet others β the fanatical "highland figures" β as a wellspring of evil; an affront that must be eradicated. The issue of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be removed or preserved is becoming urgent.
As in His Dark Materials, the heroine's actions, and her future, are demonstrated to be inseparably entwined with the future of the universe
In its predecessor, these storylines ran broadly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they converge. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's choices and her fate are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the future of the universe. Her private journey to reconnect with her daemon and regain her creativity becomes the key struggle in a larger war with an authoritarian regime which, as these systems often attempt, is striving to suppress autonomy of reason, innovation and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
The novel starts with the discovery of a series of unusual openings in the fabric of the planet's atmosphere: windows that look to give on to other worlds. An example of a window appears to be the source of the highly contested rose oil. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its leadership, classifies these windows as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict reason and revert to feeling, yet, her conviction that these locations must be protected β that what they stand for and what they offer is in some way essential β grows. "Dust, or the substance, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a poetic struggle between purity and experience is prepared.
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
Elara is a tech journalist with a decade of experience covering software development and digital innovation trends.