Things are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along novel and troubling lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from authorities, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the vaults of corporations, the grasp of rioters. "Some force is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says trader a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are faltering and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Exactly what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that drives this final volume, which resumes where the previous book concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's final foray into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling universe he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a world whose geography maps on to that of our world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the people look and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by daemons, souls in animal form; where the air are populated with sorceresses and gryphons, but below, vehicles are taken and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious main character of the prior volumes, but more mature, melancholic, more careful, less sure. This restraint is heightened by her split from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to go off in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an quality which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's masterfully eerie incarnation of austere, administrative evil – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the office of president of the authority's High Council, and is intent on using his newfound power to expand the institution's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued young Lyra to refuge along a flooded river as an child in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in spycraft: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about his intentions. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which seems mysteriously to be the cause of a societal and economic upheaval rippling out from that area. The substance is regarded by various factions as a tradeable good, by different parties as a empirical or mystical miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of malevolence; an challenge that must be destroyed. The issue of its source, its significance, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Like the first series, Lyra's actions, and her future, are shown to be deeply linked with the destiny of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran mostly in parallel. In the conclusion, they merge. Like the first trilogy, the protagonist's choices and her path are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the world. Her private mission to reconnect with her companion and rediscover her imagination becomes the central battleground in a broader battle with an authoritarian government which, as such regimes often attempt, is striving to stifle freedom of reason, innovation and culture: all the internal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The novel starts with the finding of a series of curious openings in the makeup of the Earth's atmosphere: portals that appear to give on to different dimensions. An example of a opening appears to be the point of the much debated rose oil. The authority, with the antagonist at its head, labels these windows as a challenge to the church's doctrine and endeavors to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from inflexible logic and revert to instinct, nevertheless, her certainty that these sites must be protected – that their meaning and their value is mysteriously crucial – increases. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a philosophical tussle between naivety and maturity is set.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
