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Tings are collapsing in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that appears, in this volume especially, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along new and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from governments, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of corporations, the hands of crowds. "Some force is at work, stealthily, gradually", says businessman a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and solid are deteriorating and collapsing."

Core Enigma and Her Quest

Precisely what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which continues where the previous book ended. This is, according to many, Pullman's final excursion into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose terrain aligns with that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, beings in creature form; where the air are populated with enchantresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and drinks is drunk, and mature professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but older, sadder, more cautious, less sure. This limitation is intensified by her separation from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Interwoven Plots

His choice to leave in pursuit of that childlike part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an quality which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with amazement and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the church's controlling power, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of austere, procedural evil – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's relative, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the position of president of the authority's governing body, and is set on using his fresh influence to extend the church's control. Another protagonist, who carried infant the heroine to security along a overflowing river as an child in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is assigned to the city to learn more about Delamare's plans. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and precious rose oil which seems somehow to be the source of a social and economic crisis emanating out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by certain groups as a commercial good, by others as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an affront that must be obliterated. The question of its source, its significance, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.

Similar to the first series, the heroine's decisions, and her destiny, are shown to be inextricably linked with the fate of the world

In its predecessor, these plots ran broadly in tandem. In the conclusion, they converge. Similar to the original series, her actions and her destiny are shown to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the realm. Her personal mission to reconnect with her soul and recover her vision becomes the central struggle in a larger battle with an authoritarian system which, as such authorities typically do, is striving to suppress autonomy of thinking, originality and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.

Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts

The story begins with the finding of a collection of curious openings in the structure of the Earth's sky: portals that look to lead to alternate realities. One such portal appears to be the point of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The authority, with the antagonist at its head, labels these windows as a problem to the religion's orthodoxy and endeavors to destroy them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict rationalism and revert to intuition, however, her conviction that these sites must be defended – that their significance and what they offer is in some way essential – grows. "The substance, or the substance, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a philosophical tussle between innocence and knowledge is prepared.

Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution

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