Things are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a realm that manifests, now more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or restructuring themselves along new and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is destroying 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 chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the hands of mobs. "Some force is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says trader a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and durable are deteriorating and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Just what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that propels this final volume, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's final foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating world he first introduced 30 years ago, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose geography corresponds to that of the real world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and think and behave like us, but are paired by external spirits, souls in animal form; where the heavens are populated with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but below, vehicles are taken and drinks is drunk, and older academics carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still clearly the prickly and tenacious protagonist of the earlier books, but older, more sorrowful, more cautious, less sure. This limitation is intensified by her split from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the cause which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to depart in pursuit of that childlike part of her which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with wonder and risk on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the faith's controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of austere, bureaucratic malice – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who blames her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the office of leader of the Magisterium's High Council, and is intent on using his newfound power to expand the religion's control. A key character, who saved infant the heroine to refuge along a swollen Thames as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a sideline in intelligence work: he is assigned to Geneva to discover more about his plans. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and valuable essential oil which appears somehow to be the cause of a societal and financial crisis emanating out from that area. The extract is viewed by certain groups as a marketable good, by alternate groups as a research-based or spiritual miracle, and by further factions – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an insult that must be destroyed. The question of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be removed or preserved is becoming urgent.
As in the first series, Lyra's actions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inextricably linked with the future of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran largely in parallel. In the conclusion, they merge. Like the original series, the protagonist's movements and her fate are shown to be inseparably woven with the destiny of the universe. Her personal quest to reunite with her soul and regain her vision becomes the central struggle in a larger war with an oppressive regime which, as these systems always have, is striving to stifle independence of reason, originality and art: all the internal, defiant ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The novel opens with the finding of a collection of strange cracks in the makeup of the world's sky: gateways that appear to open into alternate realities. An example of a opening manifests to be the source of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its leadership, classifies these windows as a challenge to the religion's orthodoxy and aims to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from rigid reason and return to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and their value is in some way crucial – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a poetic tussle between naivety and knowledge is set.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
