Things are unraveling in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that manifests, in this volume especially, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reorganizing themselves along novel and troubling lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the vaults of business empires, the grasp of crowds. "An element is at work, very quietly, gradually", says merchant a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and durable are faltering and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives this final volume, which continues where its predecessor ended. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding excursion into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating world he first revealed three decades past, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose landscape corresponds to that of our world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals look and reason and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the air are populated with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the first volume, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still clearly the sharp and tenacious heroine of the prior volumes, but aged, melancholic, more careful, more doubtful. This limitation is heightened by her separation from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to depart in quest of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he represents as her "creativity"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous trek across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and risk on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and the author's masterfully eerie representation of strict, bureaucratic malice – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's uncle, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of head of the church's governing body, and is intent on using his newfound power to expand the church's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who carried young the heroine to safety along a flooded river as an child in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about the antagonist's plans. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and precious essential oil which appears in some way to be the source of a societal and financial disturbance spreading out from that area. The extract is viewed by certain groups as a tradeable good, by alternate groups as a empirical or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an insult that must be obliterated. The issue of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's decisions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply linked with the future of the universe
In its predecessor, these plots ran mostly in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to His Dark Materials, her actions and her path are unveiled to be inextricably linked with the future of the world. Her individual mission to reunite with her companion and recover her imagination becomes the primary struggle in a wider war with an oppressive regime which, as such regimes always have, is seeking to quell freedom of thinking, originality and expression: all the personal, defiant ways in which individuals can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The novel starts with the discovery of a series of strange openings in the makeup of the Earth's sky: gateways that appear to lead to different dimensions. A particular portal manifests to be the source of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, designates these windows as a problem to the religion's doctrine and aims to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to move from inflexible rationalism and back to feeling, yet, her certainty that these locations must be defended – that their significance and their value is mysteriously vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a Blakean conflict between naivety and maturity is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
