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Tings are unraveling in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that seems, now more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of business empires, the control of crowds. "Some force is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were stable and strong are faltering and failing."

Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey

Just what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that propels this final volume, which resumes where the previous book left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding foray into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a world whose terrain corresponds to that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are paired by daemons, souls in creature form; where the air are populated with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, vehicles are caught and drinks is consumed, and mature academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still clearly the prickly and tenacious protagonist of the earlier books, but aged, melancholic, more careful, less sure. This limitation is heightened by her split from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Converging Storylines

His choice to depart in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he represents as her "imagination"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and risk 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 brilliantly sinister incarnation of rigid, bureaucratic evil – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his fresh power to extend the church's control. A key character, who rescued baby Lyra to refuge along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a sideline in intelligence work: he is dispatched to the city to discover more about his plans. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and precious essential oil which manifests mysteriously to be the cause of a social and economic crisis rippling out from the region. The extract is seen by various factions as a tradeable commodity, by others as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of darkness; an insult that must be obliterated. The dilemma of where it comes from, its significance, and if it should be removed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.

Similar to the first series, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are revealed to be inseparably connected with the fate of the world

In the previous volume, these plots ran mostly in side by side. In this final book, they come together. Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions and her destiny are unveiled to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the world. Her private mission to reunite with her soul and rediscover her imagination becomes the central battleground in a broader conflict with an oppressive regime which, as such authorities always have, is striving to stifle freedom of thinking, creativity and culture: all the inner, resistant ways in which people can be free.

Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts

The book begins with the finding of a collection of unusual cracks in the fabric of the planet's air: portals that look to lead to different dimensions. An example of a window appears to be the point of the much debated rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its leadership, designates these windows as a challenge to the religion's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict reason and return to instinct, nevertheless, her certainty that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and what they provide is mysteriously vital – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a poetic conflict between innocence and maturity is established.

Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth

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