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Tings are collapsing in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a realm that manifests, in this volume especially, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from states, and gathering in the chambers of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the grasp of crowds. "Some force is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and durable are weakening and collapsing."

Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey

Just what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that propels The Rose Field, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final foray into the elaborately built, deeply captivating realm he first revealed three decades past, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a world whose landscape maps on to that of the real world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and think and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, essences in animal form; where the air are populated with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, buses are caught and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a child in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and determined heroine of the prior volumes, but more mature, melancholic, more cautious, more doubtful. This circumscription is heightened by her division from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.

Merging Narratives

Pan's decision to go off in quest of that innocent part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw the protagonist undertake a wandering journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in motion, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the church's controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of strict, administrative malice – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who blames her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the position of leader of the church's High Council, and is determined on using his newfound authority to broaden the church's dominium. Another protagonist, who rescued baby the heroine to refuge along a swollen river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to a key location to find out more about the antagonist's intentions. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and valuable essential oil which seems in some way to be the origin of a social and financial upheaval emanating out from the region. The substance is regarded by some as a tradeable good, by others as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a source of darkness; an challenge that must be destroyed. The question of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be eliminated or preserved is becoming urgent.

Like the original trilogy, Lyra's decisions, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably connected with the fate of the realm

In its predecessor, these storylines ran largely in tandem. In this final book, they merge. As in the first trilogy, the protagonist's actions and her path are shown to be deeply woven with the destiny of the realm. Her individual journey to rejoin with her soul and regain her creativity becomes the key conflict in a broader conflict with an authoritarian regime which, as such regimes often attempt, is seeking to stifle independence of thought, innovation and culture: all the internal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.

Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts

The story begins with the unveiling of a series of curious openings in the makeup of the planet's sky: gateways that seem to give on to different dimensions. A particular portal seems to be the origin of the highly contested mystical extract. The church, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these portals as a threat to the religion's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from inflexible reason and back to instinct, however, her belief that these places must be preserved – that their significance and what they offer is somehow essential – grows. "Dust, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a philosophical tussle between purity and maturity is set.

Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution

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