Tings are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that manifests, here more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or restructuring themselves along novel and troubling lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from governments, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of business empires, the hands of crowds. "Some force is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Just what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that drives this final volume, which resumes where the previous book ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's last foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating world he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a world whose terrain maps on to that of our world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans look and think and behave like us, but are paired by external spirits, souls in animal form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, buses are taken and beverages is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a adult: still distinctly the sharp and determined heroine of the earlier books, but more mature, melancholic, more careful, more doubtful. This restraint is amplified by her split from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which made him desert 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 trait which he represents as her "vision"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in play, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the faith's ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of austere, procedural evil – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of leader of the church's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his fresh influence to extend the religion's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued young Lyra to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to the city to find out more about Delamare's intentions. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which appears mysteriously to be the cause of a social and financial disturbance emanating out from Central Asia. The substance is regarded by various factions as a tradeable product, by others as a scientific or mystical miracle, and by further factions – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of malevolence; an affront that must be destroyed. The issue of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.
Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions, and her future, are demonstrated to be deeply connected with the fate of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran largely in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions and her fate are unveiled to be deeply linked with the fate of the realm. Her personal journey to reunite with her daemon and rediscover her vision becomes the key struggle in a broader war with an oppressive government which, as such authorities always have, is seeking to quell independence of thought, originality and culture: all the inner, defiant ways in which humans can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The novel opens with the unveiling of a collection of curious cracks in the fabric of the world's sky: portals that appear to lead to other worlds. One such opening seems to be the source of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The church, with its leader at its helm, designates these openings as a problem to the church's beliefs and sets out to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to move from rigid reason and return to instinct, yet, her belief that these sites must be protected – that their meaning and what they offer is mysteriously essential – grows. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a Blakean struggle between purity and experience is prepared.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
