Tings are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a world that manifests, here more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Organizations are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and troubling lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is draining from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the control of rioters. "An element is at work, silently, very subtly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are weakening and giving way."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that drives the concluding book, which picks up where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's final venture into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating universe he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and think and act like us, but are joined by animal souls, beings in animal form; where the skies are populated with enchantresses and gryphons, but below, transports are taken and tea is sipped, and older scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still distinctly the prickly and tenacious heroine of the prior volumes, but aged, melancholic, more careful, less certain. This circumscription is heightened by her division from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to go off in quest of that innocent part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which chronicled Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and risk on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, procedural wickedness – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. The antagonist – our protagonist's relative, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the office of leader of the church's governing body, and is determined on using his newfound influence to expand the institution's control. Another protagonist, who saved baby the heroine to security along a flooded river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in espionage: he is assigned to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's plans. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and precious essential oil which seems mysteriously to be the cause of a social and economic upheaval rippling out from that area. The extract is regarded by some as a commercial product, by alternate groups as a empirical or mystical miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a source of darkness; an insult that must be destroyed. The issue of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to the first series, our protagonist's decisions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inextricably connected with the future of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran mostly in parallel. In the conclusion, they converge. As in the original series, the protagonist's actions and her fate are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the future of the universe. Her private quest to reunite with her companion and regain her vision becomes the primary battleground in a broader war with an authoritarian government which, as such authorities often attempt, is striving to quell autonomy of reason, creativity and expression: all the internal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The novel begins with the unveiling of a set of strange cracks in the fabric of the Earth's sky: gateways that appear to open into different dimensions. One such opening appears to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The authority, with its leader at its head, labels these portals as a threat to the institution's orthodoxy and endeavors to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from strict reason and return to intuition, yet, her belief that these places must be protected – that their meaning and their value is mysteriously essential – grows. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a Blakean struggle between innocence and knowledge is set.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
