Tings are collapsing in the last installment of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is draining from governments, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of corporations, the grasp of rioters. "Something is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his place in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are deteriorating and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that drives this final volume, which resumes where the previous book ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding venture into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first revealed three decades past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the people appear and think and behave like us, but are paired by daemons, beings in beast form; where the heavens are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, vehicles are ridden and drinks is consumed, and older professors carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a child in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a adult: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious main character of the prior volumes, but older, sadder, more careful, less certain. This restraint is heightened by her separation from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to go off in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an trait which he represents as her "creativity"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with wonder and danger on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in action, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of strict, bureaucratic evil – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his fresh influence to broaden the church's dominium. Another protagonist, who rescued infant the heroine to safety along a flooded Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a sideline in espionage: he is assigned to Geneva to find out more about his aims. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable essential oil which seems in some way to be the origin of a social and economic upheaval emanating out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by various factions as a marketable commodity, by different parties as a research-based or spiritual phenomenon, and by yet others – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.
Similar to the first series, our protagonist's decisions, and her destiny, are shown to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran mostly in parallel. In the conclusion, they merge. As in His Dark Materials, her actions and her fate are shown to be inextricably entwined with the future of the world. Her personal quest to reconnect with her daemon and regain her creativity becomes the primary battleground in a wider battle with an oppressive government which, as such authorities always have, is attempting to stifle independence of thinking, originality and expression: all the internal, defiant ways in which humans can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The story begins with the discovery of a set of strange fissures in the makeup of the world's atmosphere: gateways that look to give on to different dimensions. A particular window manifests to be the source of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its helm, designates these windows as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and endeavors to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from strict logic and back to intuition, yet, her conviction that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and their value is somehow vital – increases. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a poetic struggle between innocence and knowledge is set.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
