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Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that manifests, now more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reorganizing themselves along new and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is draining from authorities, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of business empires, the grasp of crowds. "Something is at work, silently, gradually", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are weakening and giving way."

The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey

Precisely what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that drives The Rose Field, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's last venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first revealed in the distant past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a world whose geography aligns with that of the real world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and behave like us, but are joined by daemons, essences in animal form; where the air are filled with witches and mythical beasts, but underneath, vehicles are taken and drinks is drunk, and mature professors carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still clearly the prickly and determined heroine of the prior volumes, but more mature, melancholic, more careful, less sure. This limitation is amplified by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Merging Narratives

The daemon's resolve to leave in pursuit of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an trait which he represents as her "vision"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with amazement and peril on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the church's controlling power, and the author's masterfully eerie incarnation of strict, administrative wickedness – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the role of leader of the authority's High Council, and is intent on using his newfound influence to broaden the institution's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued infant the heroine to refuge along a flooded Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to a key location to discover more about Delamare's aims. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and costly essential oil which manifests mysteriously to be the origin of a social and economic upheaval spreading out from the region. The substance is regarded by various factions as a tradeable good, by alternate groups as a research-based or spiritual phenomenon, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an insult that must be obliterated. The question of its source, its significance, and if it should be eliminated or preserved is escalating in importance.

Like the original trilogy, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be inextricably entwined with the future of the universe

In the previous volume, these plots ran broadly in parallel. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to the first trilogy, the protagonist's actions and her destiny are shown to be inseparably entwined with the future of the world. Her private mission to reunite with her companion and regain her vision becomes the primary conflict in a wider battle with an authoritarian regime which, as these systems typically do, is attempting to stifle independence of reason, originality and culture: all the personal, resistant ways in which people can be free.

Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts

The story starts with the finding of a collection of unusual cracks in the fabric of the world's atmosphere: windows that seem to give on to different dimensions. An example of a portal manifests to be the point of the much debated mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its leadership, classifies these windows as a threat to the institution's beliefs and aims to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to move from rigid rationalism and back to feeling, however, her belief that these locations must be defended – that their meaning and what they offer is in some way vital – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a poetic struggle between innocence and knowledge is established.

Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth

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