Rose Field Chronicles: Philip Pullman's Thrilling Conclusion to the Northern Lights Saga

Things are collapsing in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a world that seems, here more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from states, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of business empires, the grasp of rioters. "Something is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are faltering and failing."

Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path

Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates the concluding book, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating realm he first introduced three decades past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose landscape maps on to that of the real world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and reason and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, essences in animal form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but below, vehicles are taken and drinks is sipped, and middle-aged professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a child in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still clearly the sharp and determined protagonist of the previous installments, but older, sadder, more careful, less certain. This limitation is heightened by her split from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.

Merging Narratives

His choice to depart in pursuit of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering journey across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and risk on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in play, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the church's ruling assembly, and is set on using his recently acquired influence to broaden the religion's rule. Another protagonist, who saved infant the heroine to security along a flooded river as an child in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a sideline in intelligence work: he is dispatched to the city to discover more about Delamare's plans. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which seems mysteriously to be the cause of a societal and financial crisis rippling out from the region. The oil is seen by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by alternate groups as a empirical or mystical miracle, and by others still – the zealous "highland figures" – as a origin of evil; an insult that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its origins, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.

As in the original trilogy, our protagonist's deeds, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the universe

In its predecessor, these storylines ran mostly in tandem. In the conclusion, they converge. Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her fate are revealed to be inseparably woven with the fate of the universe. Her individual mission to reunite with her daemon and regain her vision becomes the central battleground in a broader conflict with an authoritarian government which, as such regimes typically do, is seeking to suppress freedom of reason, creativity and culture: all the personal, resistant ways in which individuals can be independent.

Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles

The novel starts with the finding of a set of strange openings in the structure of the planet's air: windows that appear to open into alternate realities. A particular opening seems to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its head, labels these windows as a problem to the institution's doctrine and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from rigid reason and revert to instinct, nevertheless, her certainty that these sites must be defended – that what they stand for and what they offer is in some way essential – increases. "Dust, or the extract, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a Blakean struggle between purity and experience is established.

Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution

At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the