The Rose Field: Philip Pullman's Nail-Biting Ending to the Northern Lights Trilogy
Things are unraveling in the last installment of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that seems, now more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from governments, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the control of rioters. "Some force is at work, stealthily, gradually", says businessman a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and solid are weakening and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Just what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that propels the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, according to many, the author's final venture into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first unveiled three decades past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a world whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and think and behave like us, but are joined by daemons, essences in beast form; where the heavens are populated with witches and legendary creatures, but underneath, vehicles are ridden and tea is drunk, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still clearly the sharp and determined heroine of the previous installments, but aged, sadder, more cautious, more doubtful. This restraint is heightened by her split from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to go off in pursuit of that youthful part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and the author's masterfully eerie incarnation of austere, administrative malice – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's family member, who faults her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the role of head of the authority's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his newfound power to extend the church's control. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued baby Lyra to security along a overflowing Thames as an young boy in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is sent to the city to learn more about the antagonist's plans. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and costly rose oil which manifests in some way to be the source of a social and financial disturbance emanating out from the region. The extract is seen by various factions as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by further factions – the extremist "highland figures" – as a source of malevolence; an affront that must be eradicated. The question of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the original trilogy, our protagonist's actions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply connected with the fate of the world
In its predecessor, these narratives ran mostly in parallel. In the conclusion, they merge. Similar to the first trilogy, Lyra's actions and her fate are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the fate of the realm. Her private quest to reunite with her daemon and rediscover her vision becomes the central conflict in a wider conflict with an controlling regime which, as such authorities often attempt, is attempting to quell freedom of reason, creativity and culture: all the personal, defiant ways in which people can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The story begins with the finding of a set of curious openings in the structure of the planet's air: portals that appear to open into other worlds. An example of a window appears to be the point of the much debated mystical extract. The authority, with its leader at its head, classifies these portals as a threat to the religion's orthodoxy and aims to destroy them. As the heroine begins to turn away from inflexible rationalism and back to feeling, yet, her conviction that these places must be defended – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow essential – strengthens. "The substance, or the extract, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we name it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a philosophical tussle between naivety and maturity is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the