Things are falling apart in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that seems, here more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is draining from authorities, and pooling in the offices of theocrats, the coffers of business empires, the hands of rioters. "Something is at work, very quietly, gradually", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and solid are weakening and giving way."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that drives The Rose Field, which continues where the previous book concluded. This is, according to many, the author's last excursion into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting realm he first introduced three decades past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose geography maps on to that of this world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, essences in creature form; where the skies are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but below, transports are caught and beverages is drunk, and middle-aged academics carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still distinctly the spiky and determined heroine of the previous installments, but older, more sorrowful, warier, less certain. This limitation is intensified by her separation from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to depart in quest of that youthful part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with amazement and peril on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in play, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the church's controlling power, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of rigid, procedural evil – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. The antagonist – the heroine's family member, who blames her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the position of leader of the church's governing body, and is set on using his newfound authority to extend the institution's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who saved baby the heroine to security along a swollen Thames as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in espionage: he is sent to a key location to find out more about Delamare's plans. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and precious rose oil which seems mysteriously to be the source of a social and economic crisis emanating out from the region. The oil is regarded by some as a marketable product, by different parties as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by yet others – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of evil; an insult that must be eradicated. The question of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Similar to the original trilogy, the heroine's deeds, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the world
In the previous volume, these plots ran largely in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. As in the original series, the protagonist's actions and her fate are revealed to be inseparably woven with the destiny of the world. Her private mission to reconnect with her soul and recover her creativity becomes the primary battleground in a larger battle with an authoritarian regime which, as these systems always have, is striving to quell independence of reason, innovation and expression: all the internal, defiant ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The book begins with the unveiling of a collection of unusual cracks in the fabric of the planet's air: windows that look to open into alternate realities. An example of a window seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The church, with its leader at its head, labels these windows as a challenge to the religion's orthodoxy and aims to destroy them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict rationalism and revert to feeling, however, her belief that these places must be defended – that their significance and their value is in some way vital – increases. "Dust, or rose oil, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean tussle between naivety and knowledge is set.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
