Things are collapsing in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, here more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from governments, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the vaults of business empires, the grasp of mobs. "An element is at work, very quietly, gradually", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were stable and strong are deteriorating and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Just what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that animates the concluding book, which picks up where its predecessor left off. This is, according to many, the author's concluding venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating world he first unveiled in the distant past, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of this world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and reason and behave like us, but are paired by daemons, souls in animal form; where the air are filled with witches and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are ridden and beverages is drunk, and older academics carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the His Dark Materials 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 mature individual: still clearly the prickly and persistent main character of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is amplified by her division from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to go off in pursuit of that youthful part of her which she may have forgotten (an trait which he represents as her "vision"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with wonder and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in play, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the faith's controlling power, and the author's masterfully eerie representation of strict, procedural wickedness – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's uncle, who blames her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the authority's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his newfound power to extend the religion's control. Malcolm Polstead, who saved baby Lyra to refuge along a overflowing river as an child in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in espionage: he is dispatched to Geneva to find out more about the antagonist's intentions. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and costly botanical extract which seems somehow to be the cause of a societal and financial crisis emanating out from the region. The substance is seen by some as a tradeable product, by others as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by further factions – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a source of evil; an affront that must be eradicated. The dilemma of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to the first series, Lyra's actions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inextricably linked with the fate of the realm
In the previous volume, these narratives ran mostly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they come together. Similar to the original series, Lyra's choices and her fate are shown to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the realm. Her personal journey to reunite with her soul and regain her vision becomes the key battleground in a wider war with an controlling regime which, as these systems often attempt, is seeking to stifle independence of thought, creativity and art: all the internal, defiant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The story opens with the discovery of a series of strange openings in the structure of the world's atmosphere: windows that appear to lead to alternate realities. One such window appears to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The authority, with its leader at its head, classifies these portals as a challenge to the church's orthodoxy and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from strict rationalism and back to feeling, however, her conviction that these sites must be preserved – that their significance and what they offer is in some way essential – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a poetic struggle between naivety and knowledge is established.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
