Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a world that manifests, in this volume especially, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or restructuring themselves along novel and troubling lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from states, and gathering in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the grasp of crowds. "Something is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and solid are deteriorating and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that propels the concluding book, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, by all accounts, the author's last venture into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting world he first introduced 30 years ago, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose geography corresponds to that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, beings in animal form; where the skies are teeming with witches and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, buses are caught and beverages is consumed, and older professors carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a adult: still distinctly the spiky and persistent main character of the earlier books, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, less certain. This circumscription is heightened by her split from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to go off in quest of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he represents as her "imagination"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a wandering journey across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with amazement and peril on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in action, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of rigid, procedural malice – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. The antagonist – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the church's ruling assembly, and is set on using his fresh power to extend the religion's control. A key character, who carried baby Lyra to safety along a flooded Thames as an child in the prequel, is now an academic with a sideline in spycraft: he is dispatched to the city to discover more about Delamare's intentions. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and precious botanical extract which manifests in some way to be the source of a societal and financial disturbance spreading out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by some as a commercial good, by others as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by others still – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of evil; an challenge that must be obliterated. The issue of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the first series, Lyra's decisions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran broadly in parallel. In the conclusion, they come together. Like His Dark Materials, the protagonist's choices and her destiny are shown to be deeply woven with the destiny of the realm. Her individual mission to reconnect with her daemon and rediscover her creativity becomes the key conflict in a wider war with an controlling regime which, as such authorities typically do, is seeking to stifle autonomy of reason, innovation and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The story opens with the unveiling of a collection of unusual fissures in the structure of the Earth's atmosphere: gateways that look to open into other worlds. One such portal seems to be the source of the much debated mystical extract. The authority, with Delamare at its leadership, labels these openings as a challenge to the institution's orthodoxy and endeavors to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to shift from inflexible logic and return to feeling, yet, her belief that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and their value is somehow vital – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a philosophical conflict between naivety and maturity is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
