Rose Field Chronicles: Philip Pullman's Nail-Biting Conclusion to the His Dark Materials Saga

Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a world that seems, here more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from governments, and pooling in the halls of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the grasp of rioters. "Some force is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and strong are weakening and giving way."

Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path

Just what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that propels this final volume, which picks up where the previous book concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding venture into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling universe he first revealed in the distant past, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a world whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and reason and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, souls in creature form; where the heavens are filled with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but below, transports are taken and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged academics carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still clearly the sharp and tenacious main character of the prior volumes, but aged, melancholic, warier, less certain. This limitation is intensified by her split from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.

Merging Narratives

The daemon's resolve to go off in search of that childlike part of her which she may have forgotten (an quality which he represents as her "creativity"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and risk on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in action, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of strict, administrative wickedness – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's relative, who blames her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the office of head of the authority's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired influence to extend the church's rule. Another protagonist, who carried baby Lyra to security along a swollen Thames as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a sideline in spycraft: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about the antagonist's aims. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and precious rose oil which manifests in some way to be the cause of a societal and economic disturbance rippling out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by various factions as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a empirical or mystical wonder, and by others still – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of malevolence; an insult that must be obliterated. The question of where it comes from, its meaning, and whether it should be removed or protected is becoming urgent.

Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions, and her future, are demonstrated to be deeply linked with the destiny of the world

In its predecessor, these narratives ran largely in tandem. In the conclusion, they come together. As in the first trilogy, Lyra's actions and her path are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the future of the universe. Her private quest to reconnect with her soul and regain her creativity becomes the primary struggle in a broader battle with an controlling system which, as such authorities always have, is seeking to suppress autonomy of thought, originality and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which humans can be liberated.

Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts

The book starts with the discovery of a series of strange fissures in the structure of the Earth's sky: windows that seem to give on to other worlds. An example of a opening seems to be the source of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its head, classifies these portals as a threat to the religion's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from strict reason and back to instinct, nevertheless, her conviction that these sites must be preserved – that their significance and what they provide is mysteriously vital – increases. "The substance, or the substance, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a poetic conflict between innocence and maturity is prepared.

Narrative Pacing and Character Development

At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the