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Things are unraveling in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a realm that seems, here more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along new and troubling lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from authorities, and accumulating in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of rioters. "Some force is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are faltering and giving way."

Core Enigma and Her Quest

Just what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that drives The Rose Field, which resumes where its predecessor ended. This is, according to many, the author's last venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating realm he first unveiled three decades past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose landscape maps on to that of the real world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the people look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by daemons, essences in beast form; where the skies are populated with witches and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, buses are ridden and tea is consumed, and middle-aged professors carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious heroine of the earlier books, but more mature, sadder, warier, less sure. This limitation is heightened by her split from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.

Converging Storylines

His choice to depart in pursuit of that youthful part of her which she may have forgotten (an quality which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with amazement and danger on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in motion, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of austere, procedural wickedness – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – the heroine's uncle, who blames her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the position of president of the authority's governing body, and is determined on using his newfound power to extend the institution's control. Another protagonist, who rescued baby Lyra to refuge along a swollen Thames as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in espionage: he is dispatched to a key location to learn more about the antagonist's plans. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and costly rose oil which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and economic crisis rippling out from the region. The oil is viewed by certain groups as a marketable commodity, by others as a research-based or mystical miracle, and by others still – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an affront that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.

Like the original trilogy, our protagonist's deeds, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply linked with the destiny of the world

In its predecessor, these narratives ran mostly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they merge. As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her fate are revealed to be deeply linked with the fate of the realm. Her individual quest to reunite with her daemon and recover her creativity becomes the primary struggle in a wider battle with an oppressive government which, as such authorities often attempt, is seeking to stifle autonomy of thinking, innovation and culture: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.

Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles

The novel opens with the discovery of a collection of curious openings in the fabric of the planet's atmosphere: gateways that look to lead to alternate realities. A particular window seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The Magisterium, with its leader at its head, designates these windows as a threat to the religion's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to move from rigid rationalism and revert to feeling, however, her conviction that these sites must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is mysteriously vital – increases. "The substance, or the substance, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or whatever we name it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean struggle between naivety and knowledge is prepared.

Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth

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