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Things are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, in this volume especially, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along new and troubling lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is draining from governments, and accumulating in the halls of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "An element is at work, stealthily, gradually", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are weakening and collapsing."

Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey

Exactly what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that propels this final volume, which continues where its predecessor ended. This is, according to many, Pullman's last foray into the elaborately built, deeply captivating universe he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of this world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the people look and reason and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, essences in creature form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, buses are caught and drinks is drunk, and mature academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still clearly the spiky and persistent heroine of the earlier books, but older, melancholic, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is amplified by her split from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Merging Narratives

His choice to leave in quest of that childlike part of her which she seems to have lost (an quality which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and peril on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the religious governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of austere, procedural wickedness – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – Lyra's family member, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of head of the church's High Council, and is set on using his fresh authority to extend the institution's dominium. A key character, who carried baby Lyra to security along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in espionage: he is sent to a key location to learn more about Delamare's intentions. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and precious rose oil which seems somehow to be the source of a societal and financial disturbance rippling out from Central Asia. The substance is regarded by various factions as a commercial commodity, by alternate groups as a scientific or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an insult that must be obliterated. The question of its origins, its significance, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.

Like the original trilogy, our protagonist's deeds, and her future, are shown to be deeply linked with the future of the realm

In its predecessor, these narratives ran largely in parallel. In this final book, they merge. Like the first trilogy, Lyra's movements and her fate are unveiled to be inextricably linked with the future of the world. Her individual journey to reconnect with her soul and regain her vision becomes the key conflict in a larger battle with an controlling government which, as such regimes always have, is attempting to suppress freedom of thought, innovation and expression: all the internal, defiant ways in which people can be independent.

Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts

The story begins with the discovery of a set of curious cracks in the makeup of the world's air: portals that look to give on to other worlds. An example of a window appears to be the source of the highly contested rose oil. The church, with its leader at its helm, classifies these portals as a problem to the institution's beliefs and aims to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict rationalism and return to instinct, yet, her belief that these sites must be protected – that what they stand for and what they provide is mysteriously essential – strengthens. "Dust, or the extract, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a poetic conflict between purity and knowledge is prepared.

Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth

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