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Things are collapsing in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a realm that manifests, now more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and accumulating in the halls of theocrats, the coffers of business empires, the grasp of rioters. "Something is at work, silently, very subtly", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and strong are weakening and failing."

The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey

Exactly what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that drives The Rose Field, which picks up where the previous book ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding venture into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting world he first unveiled three decades past, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a world whose terrain corresponds to that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and reason and behave like us, but are paired by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the skies are filled with witches and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, vehicles are ridden and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged academics carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious heroine of the earlier books, but aged, melancholic, more cautious, less certain. This circumscription 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.

Converging Storylines

Pan's decision to depart in quest of that childlike part of her which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he represents as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and risk on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in play, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the religious governing authority, and the author's masterfully eerie incarnation of austere, administrative wickedness – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who faults her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the position of leader of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his fresh influence to broaden the institution's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who carried infant the heroine to security along a swollen river as an child in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in espionage: he is dispatched to the city to find out more about Delamare's intentions. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and costly botanical extract which seems somehow to be the cause of a societal and financial crisis emanating out from that area. The extract is regarded by various factions as a tradeable commodity, by different parties as a scientific or spiritual miracle, and by yet others – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a source of darkness; an insult that must be eradicated. The issue of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.

Like the original trilogy, the heroine's actions, and her future, are demonstrated to be inextricably connected with the fate of the realm

In the previous volume, these narratives ran broadly in tandem. In this final book, they converge. Like the first trilogy, Lyra's actions and her fate are unveiled to be deeply linked with the future of the world. Her private journey to reunite with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the central battleground in a larger battle with an controlling system which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to quell independence of thinking, creativity and culture: all the internal, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.

Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles

The novel begins with the finding of a set of curious openings in the structure of the world's sky: windows that seem to lead to other worlds. A particular window seems to be the source of the highly contested rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its head, designates these portals as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to move from strict rationalism and return to intuition, however, her certainty that these sites must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously vital – grows. "Dust, or the extract, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean conflict between naivety and knowledge is prepared.

Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth

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