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Tings are unraveling in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that appears, here more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of business empires, the control of mobs. "An element is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were stable and durable are weakening and giving way."

The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey

Exactly what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that propels The Rose Field, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's last foray into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling world he first revealed three decades past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the people look and think and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in beast form; where the skies are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but below, buses are ridden and tea is drunk, and mature academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the first volume, the introductory book with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the sharp and determined main character of the prior volumes, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, ironically, 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 trait which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and danger on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the faith's controlling power, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, administrative wickedness – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's uncle, who blames her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the church's governing body, and is set on using his recently acquired power to broaden the church's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued baby Lyra to refuge along a overflowing river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an academic with a sideline in intelligence work: he is assigned to a key location to find out more about his intentions. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and costly botanical extract which appears mysteriously to be the source of a social and financial crisis spreading out from Central Asia. The extract is regarded by various factions as a commercial good, by others as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an affront that must be eradicated. The question of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or protected is escalating in importance.

Similar to the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her destiny, are revealed to be inseparably connected with the future of the realm

In the previous volume, these storylines ran mostly in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. As in the first trilogy, Lyra's actions and her destiny are revealed to be inseparably woven with the destiny of the world. Her private quest to rejoin with her soul and rediscover her creativity becomes the key struggle in a larger battle with an controlling regime which, as such regimes often attempt, is striving to quell independence of thinking, originality and expression: all the internal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.

Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles

The novel opens with the discovery of a collection of strange cracks in the makeup of the Earth's atmosphere: gateways that appear to open into alternate realities. One such window appears to be the origin of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The church, with Delamare at its helm, labels these portals as a problem to the institution's doctrine and sets out to destroy them. As the heroine begins to shift from rigid rationalism and return to feeling, however, her belief that these locations must be defended – that their meaning and what they provide is in some way crucial – increases. "Dust, or rose oil, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a philosophical tussle between innocence and experience is prepared.

Story Tempo and Character Development

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