Things are unraveling in the last installment of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that manifests, now more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along novel and troubling lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the grasp of rioters. "Some force is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and solid are deteriorating and failing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that propels The Rose Field, which continues where its predecessor ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last foray into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting world he first introduced three decades past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose geography corresponds to that of this world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals appear and think and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, essences in animal form; where the skies are teeming with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but below, vehicles are ridden and drinks is consumed, and mature professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still recognisably the sharp and persistent main character of the earlier books, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, less certain. This limitation is intensified by her split from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to go off in quest of that innocent part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an quality which he represents as her "vision"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with amazement and danger on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's masterfully eerie incarnation of strict, procedural malice – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – the heroine's family member, who blames her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the office of president of the authority's governing body, and is intent on using his newfound authority to extend the institution's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued infant the heroine to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a additional duty in spycraft: he is dispatched to a key location to learn more about the antagonist's aims. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and precious botanical extract which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a social and economic crisis emanating out from Central Asia. The substance is regarded by some as a tradeable product, by different parties as a empirical or mystical wonder, and by further factions – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of darkness; an challenge that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to His Dark Materials, the heroine's actions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply connected with the destiny of the realm
In the previous volume, these plots ran largely in tandem. In The Rose Field, they converge. Like His Dark Materials, the protagonist's actions and her destiny are shown to be inseparably linked with the future of the world. Her individual quest to reunite with her daemon and rediscover her creativity becomes the primary struggle in a larger conflict with an oppressive government which, as such authorities often attempt, is striving to stifle autonomy of thought, creativity and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The novel opens with the unveiling of a series of unusual cracks in the fabric of the planet's atmosphere: gateways that appear to lead to different dimensions. An example of a window appears to be the point of the much debated botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its head, classifies these portals as a threat to the religion's orthodoxy and aims to destroy them. As the heroine begins to shift from inflexible logic and revert to instinct, however, her belief that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and their value is in some way essential – increases. "The substance, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a philosophical tussle between naivety and experience is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
