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Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from states, and accumulating in the offices of religious leaders, the coffers of corporations, the control of mobs. "An element is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are weakening and failing."

Core Enigma and Her Quest

Precisely what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final excursion into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating world he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose landscape maps on to that of this world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the people look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, essences in beast form; where the heavens are populated with witches and gryphons, but underneath, vehicles are ridden and tea is consumed, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the first volume, the introductory book with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still clearly the spiky and determined heroine of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, less sure. This limitation is heightened by her split from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.

Interwoven Plots

The daemon's resolve to depart in quest of that childlike part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a wandering journey across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and risk on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the faith's governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, bureaucratic evil – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – the heroine's family member, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the office of president of the church's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired power to expand the church's dominium. A key character, who rescued infant the heroine to security along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is assigned to a key location to find out more about the antagonist's intentions. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which manifests mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and financial upheaval spreading out from the region. The substance is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by different parties as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by others still – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.

Similar to the first series, Lyra's actions, and her future, are demonstrated to be inseparably connected with the destiny of the universe

In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they come together. As in the first trilogy, the protagonist's actions and her destiny are unveiled to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the realm. Her private mission to reconnect with her daemon and regain her vision becomes the primary conflict in a broader battle with an controlling government which, as such authorities often attempt, is striving to stifle independence of reason, creativity and expression: all the personal, defiant ways in which people can be liberated.

Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles

The book starts with the discovery of a series of curious fissures in the fabric of the world's air: gateways that look to give on to different dimensions. A particular window seems to be the origin of the much debated rose oil. The authority, with its leader at its leadership, labels these portals as a challenge to the church's doctrine and sets out to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from inflexible reason and return to instinct, however, her certainty that these locations must be preserved – that their meaning and what they provide is in some way vital – increases. "The substance, or the substance, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a Blakean struggle between purity and experience is set.

Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth

At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the