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Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that manifests, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the grasp of crowds. "Something is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and durable are weakening and collapsing."

Core Enigma and Her Quest

Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that animates The Rose Field, which resumes where the previous book ended. This is, according to many, Pullman's last venture into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first introduced 30 years ago, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose landscape maps on to that of our world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and behave like us, but are paired by external spirits, souls in beast form; where the heavens are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and drinks is drunk, and middle-aged professors carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a adult: still clearly the spiky and tenacious heroine of the earlier books, but more mature, melancholic, more careful, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.

Converging Storylines

The daemon's resolve to go off in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he represents as her "creativity"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and peril on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in action, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of austere, administrative wickedness – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's family member, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of leader of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his recently acquired influence to extend the institution's rule. Another protagonist, who carried infant the heroine to security along a flooded Thames as an child in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in spycraft: he is sent to the city to learn more about Delamare's aims. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and valuable botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the source of a societal and economic upheaval rippling out from Central Asia. The extract is regarded by certain groups as a commercial good, by alternate groups as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by others still – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of evil; an insult that must be eradicated. The question of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.

As in the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply entwined with the future of the realm

In the previous volume, these plots ran broadly in parallel. In the conclusion, they merge. Similar to the first trilogy, Lyra's movements and her path are revealed to be inseparably linked with the fate of the realm. Her personal quest to rejoin with her companion and rediscover her imagination becomes the primary conflict in a larger war with an authoritarian regime which, as these systems typically do, is striving to suppress autonomy of thinking, originality and expression: all the personal, resistant ways in which people can be liberated.

Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts

The book begins with the unveiling of a set of curious cracks in the fabric of the world's air: portals that appear to give on to different dimensions. An example of a portal appears to be the point of the highly contested rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its head, classifies these portals as a challenge to the institution's doctrine and aims to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from rigid reason and revert to feeling, nevertheless, her certainty that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and what they offer is somehow vital – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a poetic conflict between purity and maturity is set.

Story Tempo and Character Development

At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the