Things are falling apart in the last installment of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that appears, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or restructuring themselves along new and troubling lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from governments, and accumulating in the halls of theocrats, the treasuries of business empires, the control of mobs. "An element is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and strong are faltering and failing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that animates this final volume, which continues where the previous book concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's final venture into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling universe he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals look and reason and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, souls in beast form; where the skies are teeming with witches and legendary creatures, but below, transports are caught and tea is drunk, and middle-aged academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still distinctly the spiky and tenacious main character of the prior volumes, but older, sadder, more cautious, less certain. This circumscription is amplified by her split from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to go off in pursuit of that childlike part of her which she may have forgotten (an quality which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and risk on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of rigid, bureaucratic evil – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's relative, who blames her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the office of leader of the authority's governing body, and is determined on using his newfound influence to expand the institution's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who saved baby the heroine to refuge along a swollen river as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is sent to a key location to discover more about the antagonist's aims. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and costly botanical extract which appears mysteriously to be the source of a social and financial disturbance spreading out from the region. The extract is regarded by certain groups as a marketable product, by alternate groups as a scientific or esoteric phenomenon, and by yet others – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of darkness; an insult that must be obliterated. The issue of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to the first series, the heroine's decisions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be deeply connected with the destiny of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran largely in tandem. In the conclusion, they converge. As in the original series, Lyra's actions and her path are revealed to be deeply linked with the destiny of the world. Her private journey to reunite with her soul and recover her vision becomes the central struggle in a wider conflict with an authoritarian system which, as such regimes often attempt, is attempting to suppress independence of reason, creativity and art: all the inner, defiant ways in which humans can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The story opens with the unveiling of a set of curious cracks in the makeup of the world's atmosphere: windows that seem to open into other worlds. One such window manifests to be the source of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The church, with the antagonist at its head, classifies these windows as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and aims to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict rationalism and back to intuition, however, her certainty that these sites must be preserved – that their meaning and their value is mysteriously crucial – grows. "Dust, or rose oil, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a poetic struggle between innocence and experience is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the