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Things are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that manifests, now more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from states, and pooling in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of business empires, the control of mobs. "An element is at work, silently, gradually", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and solid are faltering and collapsing."

The Central Mystery and Her Quest

Precisely what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that animates the concluding book, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's final foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating world he first revealed in the distant past, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose geography maps on to that of the real world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the people look and think and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in beast form; where the skies are teeming with enchantresses and gryphons, but below, vehicles are caught and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the prequel, the origin story with which the author began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but older, more sorrowful, warier, less certain. This circumscription is amplified by her split from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Interwoven Plots

Pan's decision to leave in quest of that childlike part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an quality which he represents as her "creativity"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with amazement and peril on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of rigid, procedural wickedness – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's family member, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's High Council, and is intent on using his fresh power to extend the church's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who carried young Lyra to refuge along a swollen river as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a sideline in spycraft: he is sent to a key location to learn more about Delamare's aims. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and valuable essential oil which seems somehow to be the origin of a societal and economic disturbance spreading out from that area. The substance is viewed by certain groups as a commercial good, by different parties as a research-based or esoteric phenomenon, and by further factions – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of darkness; an affront that must be eradicated. The question of its origins, its significance, and whether it should be removed or preserved is escalating in importance.

Like His Dark Materials, the heroine's decisions, and her fate, are shown to be deeply linked with the future of the universe

In the previous volume, these narratives ran mostly in tandem. In this final book, they come together. Similar to His Dark Materials, her movements and her path are unveiled to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her personal journey to rejoin with her daemon and regain her imagination becomes the primary struggle in a wider war with an oppressive regime which, as these systems typically do, is striving to stifle independence of reason, innovation and art: all the inner, defiant ways in which individuals can be liberated.

Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles

The novel starts with the finding of a set of strange openings in the fabric of the planet's atmosphere: portals that appear to open into other worlds. A particular window seems to be the point of the highly contested rose oil. The church, with its leader at its leadership, designates these openings as a problem to the church's orthodoxy and endeavors to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to shift from inflexible reason and revert to feeling, nevertheless, her certainty that these places must be preserved – that their significance and their value is in some way vital – strengthens. "The substance, or rose oil, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a poetic struggle between purity and experience is prepared.

Plot Rhythm and Character Development

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