Things are unraveling in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is draining from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the grasp of mobs. "Some force is at work, very quietly, gradually", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and solid are faltering and failing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that animates the concluding book, which picks up where its predecessor ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's concluding venture into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating universe he first introduced in the distant past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose landscape maps on to that of this world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, essences in beast form; where the air are filled with witches and gryphons, but underneath, vehicles are ridden and beverages is consumed, and mature academics carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still distinctly the prickly and determined main character of the prior volumes, but older, melancholic, more careful, less sure. This limitation is heightened by her split from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to depart in pursuit of that childlike part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an quality which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and peril on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the faith's ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of strict, procedural malice – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who blames her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the office of president of the church's governing body, and is intent on using his fresh influence to expand the religion's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued baby the heroine to security along a swollen Thames as an child in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in espionage: he is assigned to Geneva to discover more about Delamare's plans. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and valuable essential oil which manifests in some way to be the cause of a societal and economic crisis rippling out from Central Asia. The substance is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable product, by others as a scientific or mystical phenomenon, and by others still – the zealous "highland figures" – as a source of malevolence; an challenge that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the first series, our protagonist's decisions, and her future, are shown to be inseparably linked with the fate of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran largely in tandem. In this final book, they merge. As in the first trilogy, her actions and her fate are shown to be inextricably linked with the fate of the universe. Her personal quest to rejoin with her companion and recover her creativity becomes the key struggle in a broader war with an oppressive regime which, as these systems often attempt, is striving to stifle autonomy of thought, innovation and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The book starts with the discovery of a series of unusual cracks in the makeup of the world's atmosphere: portals that look to lead to alternate realities. A particular opening appears to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its helm, designates these openings as a threat to the church's doctrine and endeavors to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to move from inflexible reason and back to instinct, however, her certainty that these places must be defended – that their meaning and what they offer is in some way vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean struggle between innocence and knowledge is established.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
