Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that appears, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and troubling lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is draining from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the hands of rioters. "An element is at work, silently, gradually", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were stable and durable are faltering and failing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that propels the concluding book, which resumes where the previous book ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's final foray into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling universe he first introduced in the distant past, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a world whose landscape maps on to that of this world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, souls in animal form; where the heavens are filled with witches and mythical beasts, but below, vehicles are taken and tea is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a child in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the spiky and persistent heroine of the previous installments, but older, melancholic, more cautious, less sure. This circumscription is intensified by her division from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to depart in search of that youthful part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he represents as her "creativity"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with wonder and danger on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in play, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and the author's deliciously chilling representation of strict, administrative evil – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who blames her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the office of president of the Magisterium's High Council, and is intent on using his newfound authority to expand the church's dominium. A key character, who saved young the heroine to safety along a overflowing Thames as an child in the first book, is now an academic with a secondary role in espionage: he is assigned to a key location to learn more about the antagonist's plans. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a social and economic disturbance emanating out from that area. The extract is regarded by various factions as a tradeable good, by alternate groups as a research-based or spiritual phenomenon, and by yet others – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a source of malevolence; an affront that must be eradicated. The dilemma of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be removed or protected is becoming urgent.
Similar to the original trilogy, our protagonist's decisions, and her future, are shown to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the realm
In its predecessor, these narratives ran mostly in tandem. In this final book, they converge. Similar to His Dark Materials, her movements and her path are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the future of the realm. Her personal quest to rejoin with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the primary struggle in a wider war with an authoritarian government which, as such authorities always have, is attempting to quell autonomy of reason, innovation and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which people can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The story starts with the finding of a series of curious cracks in the makeup of the Earth's sky: windows that look to lead to different dimensions. One such window manifests to be the point of the much debated mystical extract. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, classifies these portals as a problem to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict rationalism and back to intuition, yet, her belief that these places must be protected – that their meaning and their value is in some way essential – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a Blakean tussle between purity and knowledge is established.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
