Things are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, here more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar 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". Power is draining from authorities, and pooling in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of business empires, the hands of rioters. "An element is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and failing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that propels this final volume, which picks up where its predecessor left off. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding excursion into the elaborately built, deeply captivating realm he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography corresponds to that of this world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the people look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, beings in beast form; where the skies are filled with witches and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and tea is consumed, and older professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a young girl 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 mature individual: still distinctly the sharp and persistent protagonist of the previous installments, but more mature, sadder, more cautious, less sure. This circumscription is amplified by her division from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger 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 her which she may have forgotten (an trait which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with amazement and danger on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the faith's ruling body, and the author's deliciously chilling incarnation of rigid, procedural evil – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. The antagonist – the heroine's family member, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the position of head of the authority's High Council, and is intent on using his newfound authority to expand the religion's rule. A key character, who carried baby Lyra to security along a swollen Thames as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to a key location to find out more about Delamare's intentions. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and valuable essential oil which seems in some way to be the source of a societal and financial crisis emanating out from that area. The oil is regarded by some as a commercial product, by different parties as a scientific or spiritual miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a origin of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The issue of its source, what it stands for, and whether it should be eliminated or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the first series, the heroine's actions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be deeply linked with the destiny of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran largely in parallel. In the conclusion, they converge. As in the original series, Lyra's movements and her fate are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the future of the universe. Her private mission to reunite with her daemon and rediscover her creativity becomes the central battleground in a wider war with an oppressive system which, as such regimes always have, is seeking to suppress independence of thought, innovation and expression: all the inner, resistant ways in which people can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The story opens with the discovery of a set of curious openings in the makeup of the world's air: portals that appear to open into other worlds. An example of a portal manifests to be the point of the highly contested mystical extract. The authority, with the antagonist at its head, labels these windows as a problem to the institution's doctrine and sets out to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from inflexible rationalism and back to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these sites must be protected – that what they stand for and what they provide is somehow crucial – strengthens. "Dust, or the substance, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a poetic conflict between purity and maturity is set.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
