Things are collapsing in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along new and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from states, and pooling in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the grasp of crowds. "An element is at work, silently, gradually", says businessman a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and failing."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that animates The Rose Field, which resumes where the previous book left off. This is, reportedly, the author's last venture into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling realm he first revealed in the distant past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a world whose geography corresponds to that of our world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and act like us, but are joined by daemons, souls in animal form; where the heavens are filled with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, buses are ridden and beverages is drunk, and older academics carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a adult: still recognisably the spiky and persistent main character of the earlier books, but aged, melancholic, 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
The daemon's resolve to go off in quest of that innocent part of her which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he represents as her "creativity"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in play, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of rigid, bureaucratic evil – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's family member, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of president of the church's ruling assembly, and is set on using his newfound authority to expand the religion's control. Malcolm Polstead, who saved young the heroine to refuge along a flooded river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in intelligence work: he is assigned to a key location to find out more about the antagonist's plans. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and precious botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the origin of a social and economic upheaval spreading out from the region. The oil is viewed by some as a commercial product, by others as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by further factions – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of darkness; an insult that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in His Dark Materials, our protagonist's deeds, and her future, are revealed to be deeply connected with the fate of the world
In its predecessor, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they converge. Like the original series, her movements and her destiny are shown to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her private mission to reunite with her daemon and regain her creativity becomes the primary struggle in a larger battle with an authoritarian regime which, as such authorities typically do, is attempting to suppress independence of reason, innovation and culture: all the inner, defiant ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The book opens with the discovery of a collection of curious cracks in the makeup of the Earth's atmosphere: gateways that look to lead to other worlds. An example of a opening seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its head, classifies these portals as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from rigid logic and revert to intuition, nevertheless, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that their significance and what they offer is mysteriously vital – increases. "The substance, or the substance, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a philosophical struggle between naivety and maturity is set.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
