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Tings are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and troubling lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from governments, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the hands of rioters. "An element is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are deteriorating and giving way."

Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path

Just what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that animates the concluding book, which resumes where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final excursion into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose landscape maps on to that of this world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, beings in animal form; where the heavens are filled with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, transports are taken and drinks is sipped, and middle-aged academics carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a child in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and persistent main character of the previous installments, but older, sadder, warier, less sure. This circumscription is amplified by her split from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Interwoven Plots

His choice to go off in quest of that innocent part of her which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and peril on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in action, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of austere, procedural wickedness – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's family member, who faults her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of head of the church's governing body, and is set on using his fresh authority to extend the religion's dominium. A key character, who saved baby the heroine to security along a swollen Thames as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in espionage: he is assigned to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's plans. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and precious essential oil which manifests mysteriously to be the cause of a societal and economic disturbance emanating out from Central Asia. The oil is seen by some as a commercial good, by alternate groups as a scientific or spiritual miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a origin of darkness; an insult that must be obliterated. The issue of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.

As in the first series, Lyra's actions, and her future, are shown to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the world

In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran largely in side by side. In The Rose Field, they converge. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her fate are unveiled to be deeply woven with the destiny of the world. Her personal journey to reunite with her soul and regain her imagination becomes the key battleground in a broader battle with an authoritarian regime which, as these systems often attempt, is seeking to suppress freedom of reason, innovation and art: all the internal, defiant ways in which individuals can be free.

Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts

The novel begins with the unveiling of a collection of curious cracks in the structure of the planet's atmosphere: gateways that look to open into alternate realities. A particular portal seems to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with Delamare at its head, designates these windows as a threat to the church's orthodoxy and sets out to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict logic and revert to instinct, yet, her conviction that these places must be defended – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow vital – increases. "The substance, or the extract, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a philosophical struggle between purity and knowledge is established.

Plot Rhythm and Character Development

At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the