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Tings are falling apart in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a world that manifests, here more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is draining from authorities, and gathering in the halls of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the grasp of crowds. "Some force is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and strong are weakening and failing."

Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey

Just what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that propels The Rose Field, which resumes where its predecessor ended. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding foray into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling universe he first unveiled in the distant past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose landscape corresponds to that of this world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by daemons, essences in beast form; where the air are populated with enchantresses and gryphons, but below, transports are caught and tea is sipped, and middle-aged scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a adult: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, more doubtful. This circumscription is intensified by her division from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.

Interwoven Plots

The daemon's resolve to leave in pursuit of that youthful part of her which she may have forgotten (an quality which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with amazement and peril on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in play, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the faith's governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of rigid, procedural malice – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his fresh power to extend the institution's dominium. A key character, who carried infant Lyra to security along a overflowing river as an child in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to Geneva to find out more about Delamare's intentions. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and precious essential oil which manifests somehow to be the source of a societal and economic crisis rippling out from the region. The extract is viewed by various factions as a commercial product, by others as a empirical or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be obliterated. The dilemma of where it comes from, what it stands for, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.

Similar to the original trilogy, Lyra's decisions, and her fate, are revealed to be deeply entwined with the future of the realm

In its predecessor, these storylines ran mostly in parallel. In The Rose Field, they converge. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's actions and her fate are revealed to be inseparably linked with the future of the universe. Her personal quest to reunite with her soul and rediscover her creativity becomes the central conflict in a larger battle with an oppressive regime which, as such regimes typically do, is seeking to suppress autonomy of reason, creativity and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.

Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles

The book opens with the discovery of a collection of curious fissures in the structure of the planet's sky: gateways that seem to open into other worlds. A particular opening manifests to be the origin of the much debated rose oil. The church, with the antagonist at its leadership, labels these windows as a challenge to the religion's doctrine and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from inflexible rationalism and return to feeling, however, her certainty that these places must be protected – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow vital – strengthens. "Dust, or the substance, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a poetic conflict between naivety and maturity is set.

Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution

At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the