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Things are collapsing in the last installment of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that appears, here more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is draining from states, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of crowds. "Some force is at work, stealthily, gradually", says businessman a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and strong are weakening and failing."

Core Enigma and Her Quest

Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that propels the concluding book, which picks up where its predecessor concluded. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's final excursion into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting world he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose landscape aligns with that of the real world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and think and act like us, but are joined by animal souls, beings in animal form; where the air are populated with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, buses are caught and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still clearly the prickly and tenacious main character of the previous installments, but more mature, sadder, more careful, less sure. This restraint is heightened by her separation from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Interwoven Plots

Pan's decision to depart in quest of that childlike part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and risk on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of rigid, procedural malice – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who faults her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of leader of the church's governing body, and is set on using his recently acquired influence to broaden the church's control. Malcolm Polstead, who saved infant the heroine to refuge along a swollen Thames as an child in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in intelligence work: he is sent to the city to discover more about Delamare's intentions. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and precious rose oil which appears in some way to be the origin of a societal and financial crisis rippling out from Central Asia. The oil is viewed by certain groups as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a empirical or esoteric wonder, and by others still – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of darkness; an affront that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, its meaning, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.

Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions, and her fate, are revealed to be inextricably connected with the future of the world

In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran mostly in parallel. In this final book, they come together. Similar to the first trilogy, her actions and her fate are revealed to be deeply linked with the future of the world. Her personal quest to reunite with her daemon and rediscover her vision becomes the primary struggle in a broader war with an controlling government which, as such authorities often attempt, is striving to stifle autonomy of reason, innovation and expression: all the internal, rebellious ways in which humans can be independent.

Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts

The story starts with the discovery of a series of curious fissures in the makeup of the world's sky: portals that appear to give on to different dimensions. A particular portal seems to be the source of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its head, designates these windows as a threat to the religion's orthodoxy and sets out to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to move from rigid rationalism and revert to feeling, yet, her belief that these sites must be defended – that their significance and their value is mysteriously vital – increases. "The substance, or the substance, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical conflict between purity and experience is established.

Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth

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