Things are falling apart in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a universe that manifests, now more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or restructuring themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of business empires, the grasp of rioters. "An element is at work, silently, very subtly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are weakening and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that animates The Rose Field, which picks up where the previous book ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's last venture into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting world he first revealed three decades past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the people appear and think and act like us, but are joined by animal souls, beings in beast form; where the heavens are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but below, transports are ridden and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a child in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the first volume, the origin story with which the author began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still distinctly the sharp and determined heroine of the previous installments, but older, melancholic, more careful, less certain. This circumscription is intensified by her division from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in search of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which chronicled Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with marvel and risk on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the church's ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of strict, administrative malice – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the position of head of the authority's ruling assembly, and is set on using his newfound influence to broaden the religion's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued young Lyra to refuge along a swollen river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in espionage: he is sent to the city to discover more about the antagonist's intentions. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and valuable rose oil which appears somehow to be the source of a societal and financial upheaval rippling out from that area. The substance is seen by various factions as a marketable good, by alternate groups as a empirical or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a origin of malevolence; an affront that must be obliterated. The question of its origins, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's decisions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inseparably connected with the future of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran largely in tandem. In the conclusion, they come together. As in the original series, Lyra's movements and her destiny are shown to be inextricably linked with the fate of the world. Her individual journey to reconnect with her companion and recover her creativity becomes the primary conflict in a wider war with an oppressive government which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to stifle freedom of reason, innovation and culture: all the internal, rebellious ways in which humans can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The story begins with the finding of a collection of unusual openings in the fabric of the Earth's air: windows that look to open into other worlds. One such opening seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The Magisterium, with its leader at its head, classifies these windows as a problem to the religion's beliefs and aims to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to move from inflexible logic and back to instinct, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be preserved – that their meaning and what they offer is mysteriously vital – strengthens. "Dust, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical conflict between purity and experience is set.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
