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Things are unraveling in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reassembling themselves along novel and troubling lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from governments, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of business empires, the control of mobs. "Some force is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and solid are weakening and failing."

Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey

Precisely what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that animates The Rose Field, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating realm he first unveiled in the distant past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography maps on to that of our world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the people appear and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, souls in creature form; where the skies are populated with witches and legendary creatures, but underneath, transports are caught and drinks is consumed, and mature academics 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 the first volume, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still clearly the prickly and determined protagonist of the previous installments, but older, sadder, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.

Interwoven Plots

His choice to depart in quest of that innocent part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with marvel and risk on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of austere, procedural malice – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the office of head of the church's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired power to broaden the church's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued young Lyra to security along a swollen river as an young boy in the first book, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in espionage: he is dispatched to a key location to find out more about Delamare's aims. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and precious botanical extract which appears in some way to be the source of a societal and economic upheaval emanating out from the region. The oil is regarded by some as a tradeable good, by different parties as a empirical or mystical miracle, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of malevolence; an insult that must be destroyed. The question of where it comes from, its meaning, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.

As in the original trilogy, the heroine's decisions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inextricably connected with the destiny of the realm

In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran broadly in tandem. In this final book, they converge. Similar to the original series, Lyra's actions and her destiny are shown to be deeply linked with the destiny of the universe. Her personal quest to rejoin with her daemon and rediscover her imagination becomes the key struggle in a broader war with an controlling government which, as these systems always have, is attempting to suppress independence of thinking, innovation and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.

Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles

The story begins with the finding of a collection of strange cracks in the makeup of the Earth's sky: windows that look to give on to alternate realities. An example of a opening manifests to be the point of the much debated botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its head, labels these openings as a challenge to the church's beliefs and sets out to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to shift from rigid logic and back to intuition, nevertheless, her conviction that these sites must be defended – that what they stand for and what they provide is somehow essential – increases. "Dust, or the extract, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or whatever we name it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a Blakean tussle between innocence and knowledge is prepared.

Story Tempo and Personal Evolution

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