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Things are collapsing in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a world that manifests, now more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from states, and pooling in the halls of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the grasp of rioters. "Some force is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and durable are weakening and failing."

Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path

Just what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that propels the concluding book, which continues where its predecessor left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last excursion into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting world he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography corresponds to that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the people look and think and behave like us, but are paired by daemons, souls in creature form; where the heavens are teeming with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, transports are caught and beverages is sipped, and mature scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the sharp and persistent heroine of the previous installments, but aged, melancholic, more cautious, more doubtful. This limitation is heightened by her split from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Merging Narratives

The daemon's resolve to leave in quest of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in motion, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the religious controlling power, and the author's deliciously chilling incarnation of austere, administrative evil – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the role of head of the authority's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his recently acquired authority to extend the religion's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who saved young Lyra to safety along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a secondary role in spycraft: he is assigned to Geneva to learn more about the antagonist's plans. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and costly rose oil which manifests somehow to be the source of a social and economic crisis rippling out from the region. The substance is viewed by various factions as a tradeable good, by different parties as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of evil; an affront that must be obliterated. The question of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.

Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions, and her future, are shown to be inseparably connected with the fate of the realm

In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they come together. As in the first trilogy, her movements and her path are revealed to be deeply linked with the fate of the universe. Her private quest to reconnect with her companion and recover her imagination becomes the central conflict in a larger conflict with an oppressive government which, as such authorities often attempt, is seeking to quell freedom of reason, creativity and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.

Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles

The book begins with the unveiling of a series of unusual openings in the makeup of the Earth's sky: windows that seem to lead to different dimensions. One such window seems to be the source of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with the antagonist at its head, designates these openings as a challenge to the church's doctrine and aims to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict rationalism and back to instinct, nevertheless, her certainty that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and their value is somehow vital – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a Blakean tussle between purity and knowledge is prepared.

Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution

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