Things are unraveling in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and accumulating in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the grasp of mobs. "Something is at work, very quietly, gradually", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and durable are deteriorating and giving way."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Precisely what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that propels The Rose Field, which picks up where the previous book ended. This is, according to many, the author's last foray into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting world he first revealed 30 years ago, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a world whose geography corresponds to that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the people appear and think and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, souls in animal form; where the skies are teeming with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, vehicles are ridden and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a child in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still clearly the sharp and tenacious heroine of the earlier books, but more mature, melancholic, warier, less certain. This restraint is heightened by her split from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to go off in quest of that innocent part of her which she may have forgotten (an quality which he represents as her "imagination"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with amazement and peril on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the office of president of the church's High Council, and is intent on using his newfound influence to expand the church's rule. Another protagonist, who rescued infant Lyra to refuge along a swollen Thames as an child in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in spycraft: he is dispatched to a key location to learn more about his intentions. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and valuable botanical extract which appears in some way to be the source of a societal and economic crisis rippling out from the region. The extract is regarded by some as a marketable good, by others as a research-based or mystical phenomenon, and by yet others – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a origin of darkness; an challenge that must be eradicated. The question of where it comes from, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Similar to His Dark Materials, our protagonist's actions, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply connected with the future of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran mostly in tandem. In the conclusion, they merge. Like the first trilogy, her actions and her destiny are revealed to be inextricably woven with the fate of the realm. Her private quest to rejoin with her companion and recover her imagination becomes the primary conflict in a wider battle with an authoritarian government which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to suppress freedom of thinking, originality and art: all the personal, resistant ways in which people can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The book begins with the finding of a set of curious fissures in the fabric of the Earth's atmosphere: gateways that look to lead to alternate realities. An example of a opening seems to be the point of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The authority, with the antagonist at its head, classifies these portals as a challenge to the church's orthodoxy and endeavors to destroy them. As Lyra begins to shift from rigid rationalism and return to intuition, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and their value is in some way vital – increases. "Dust, or the extract, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a poetic conflict between innocence and maturity is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
