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Things are collapsing in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, now more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and accumulating in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "An element is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are weakening and failing."

The Central Mystery and Her Quest

Exactly what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that propels this final volume, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, according to many, Pullman's final excursion into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting world he first revealed in the distant past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a world whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals look and think and act like us, but are joined by external spirits, essences in animal form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but below, transports are taken and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the prequel, the origin story with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still recognisably the prickly and determined heroine of the previous installments, but more mature, melancholic, warier, less sure. This circumscription is amplified by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Interwoven Plots

The daemon's resolve to leave in pursuit of that youthful part of her which she seems to have lost (an quality which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and risk on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in motion, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the religious governing authority, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, bureaucratic evil – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's relative, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the office of head of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his fresh influence to broaden the religion's control. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued baby the heroine to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an young boy in the prequel, is now an academic with a additional duty in spycraft: he is dispatched to Geneva to find out more about the antagonist's intentions. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and valuable botanical extract which manifests somehow to be the cause of a societal and financial disturbance emanating out from the region. The substance is viewed by various factions as a tradeable product, by different parties as a scientific or spiritual miracle, and by further factions – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of darkness; an affront that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.

As in the original trilogy, Lyra's actions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inextricably linked with the future of the realm

In its predecessor, these plots ran mostly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they converge. Like the first trilogy, the protagonist's actions and her path are unveiled to be inseparably linked with the fate of the realm. Her private journey to reconnect with her companion and regain her creativity becomes the primary conflict in a broader battle with an oppressive government which, as such regimes often attempt, is striving to stifle autonomy of thought, originality and culture: all the personal, rebellious ways in which people can be independent.

Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles

The novel begins with the finding of a series of strange fissures in the structure of the planet's sky: gateways that seem to open into other worlds. An example of a opening seems to be the point of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with its leader at its helm, labels these portals as a threat to the institution's doctrine and sets out to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to shift from inflexible reason and revert to instinct, nevertheless, her certainty that these places must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they provide is mysteriously vital – grows. "The substance, or the substance, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical conflict between innocence and knowledge is set.

Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution

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