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Things are collapsing in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, now more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is draining from states, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of business empires, the control of rioters. "Something is at work, stealthily, gradually", says trader a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and strong are weakening and giving way."

The Central Mystery and Her Quest

Precisely what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that drives this final volume, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's last venture into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling universe he first introduced three decades past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose landscape aligns with that of this world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the people look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by daemons, essences in animal form; where the skies are filled with witches and legendary creatures, but underneath, transports are caught and tea is consumed, and middle-aged professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the prequel, the origin story with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still clearly the sharp and tenacious heroine of the prior volumes, but more mature, melancholic, more cautious, less sure. This limitation is amplified by her division from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Interwoven Plots

Pan's decision to depart in quest of that childlike part of her which she seems to have lost (an quality which he represents as her "creativity"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of austere, administrative evil – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's family member, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the office of president of the authority's ruling assembly, and is set on using his fresh power to broaden the church's rule. Another protagonist, who carried infant Lyra to safety along a flooded river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a additional duty in spycraft: he is dispatched to a key location to discover more about his aims. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and precious rose oil which seems in some way to be the cause of a social and financial upheaval spreading out from the region. The oil is regarded by certain groups as a marketable commodity, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric phenomenon, and by others still – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an challenge that must be eradicated. The dilemma of where it comes from, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or protected is becoming urgent.

Like His Dark Materials, our protagonist's decisions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inseparably connected with the fate of the universe

In the previous volume, these plots ran broadly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they merge. As in His Dark Materials, the protagonist's choices and her fate are unveiled to be deeply linked with the fate of the world. Her private mission to reunite with her companion and regain her imagination becomes the primary conflict in a wider battle with an controlling regime which, as such authorities typically do, is attempting to suppress autonomy of thought, creativity and expression: all the personal, defiant ways in which people can be free.

Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles

The story begins with the finding of a series of curious fissures in the makeup of the planet's air: windows that look to open into alternate realities. A particular opening appears to be the source of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The church, with its leader at its leadership, classifies these portals as a threat to the religion's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from inflexible rationalism and return to feeling, yet, her conviction that these locations must be preserved – that their meaning and what they offer is mysteriously vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a poetic tussle between innocence and knowledge is established.

Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth

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