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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 realm that appears, now more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reorganizing themselves along new and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is draining from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the hands of mobs. "An element is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are faltering and failing."

Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey

Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that propels this final volume, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, according to many, the author's concluding venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating realm he first introduced in the distant past, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and reason and behave like us, but are paired by external spirits, souls in animal form; where the air are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, buses are caught and drinks is drunk, and middle-aged academics carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and persistent heroine of the previous installments, but older, more sorrowful, more cautious, more doubtful. This limitation is amplified by her division from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Interwoven Plots

His choice to leave in quest of that youthful part of her which she seems to have lost (an trait which he represents as her "vision"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with amazement and peril on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the faith's governing authority, and the author's deliciously chilling representation of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the role of head of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his newfound power to broaden the institution's control. Another protagonist, who rescued baby the heroine to refuge along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in espionage: he is sent to the city to learn more about Delamare's aims. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and costly rose oil which seems somehow to be the cause of a societal and financial disturbance rippling out from that area. The substance is regarded by various factions as a commercial product, by others as a empirical or spiritual miracle, and by further factions – the zealous "highland figures" – as a wellspring of darkness; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is becoming urgent.

Like His Dark Materials, the heroine's decisions, and her destiny, are shown to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the universe

In the previous volume, these plots ran largely in tandem. In the conclusion, they come together. Like His Dark Materials, her movements and her destiny are shown to be deeply woven with the fate of the universe. Her private journey to reconnect with her companion and regain her vision becomes the central battleground in a wider battle with an oppressive regime which, as these systems always have, is seeking to quell freedom of reason, creativity and expression: all the internal, resistant ways in which individuals can be free.

Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles

The story starts with the finding of a collection of strange openings in the fabric of the Earth's air: gateways that appear to give on to other worlds. A particular window manifests to be the point of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its head, classifies these portals as a problem to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to move from inflexible reason and return to feeling, nevertheless, her conviction that these locations must be preserved – that their significance and what they offer is mysteriously vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a poetic conflict between innocence and knowledge is set.

Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth

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