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Things are collapsing in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that appears, here more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along new and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is draining from states, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the hands of rioters. "Some force is at work, silently, very subtly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and strong are faltering and giving way."

Core Enigma and Her Quest

Precisely what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that propels The Rose Field, which continues where its predecessor ended. This is, reportedly, the author's final venture into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling universe he first introduced 30 years ago, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose landscape maps on to that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and reason and behave like us, but are paired by daemons, souls in animal form; where the skies are filled with enchantresses and gryphons, but underneath, vehicles are ridden and beverages is sipped, and mature scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the spiky and persistent heroine of the earlier books, but more mature, sadder, more careful, more doubtful. This circumscription is intensified by her split from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.

Interwoven Plots

Pan's decision to go off in quest of that childlike part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an trait which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which chronicled Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and risk on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's masterfully eerie incarnation of strict, administrative evil – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's family member, who blames her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the position of leader of the church's governing body, and is determined on using his fresh authority to broaden the religion's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who saved baby the heroine to safety along a swollen Thames as an child in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in spycraft: he is sent to a key location to learn more about the antagonist's plans. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and costly essential oil which manifests somehow to be the source of a social and financial crisis spreading out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by certain groups as a marketable product, by different parties as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by further factions – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a source of darkness; an insult that must be destroyed. The question of where it comes from, its meaning, and if it should be removed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.

Similar to the first series, our protagonist's actions, and her destiny, are shown to be inseparably connected with the fate of the realm

In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran largely in side by side. In this final book, they converge. As in the first trilogy, the protagonist's actions and her destiny are shown to be inextricably woven with the destiny of the realm. Her personal journey to rejoin with her daemon and rediscover her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a wider battle with an controlling regime which, as such authorities often attempt, is seeking to quell autonomy of thinking, originality and expression: all the internal, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.

Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles

The story starts with the finding of a series of curious fissures in the fabric of the planet's air: gateways that appear to give on to different dimensions. An example of a portal appears to be the source of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The church, with the antagonist at its head, classifies these openings as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from inflexible rationalism and back to instinct, yet, her belief that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously essential – strengthens. "The substance, or the substance, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or whatever we name it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a Blakean struggle between naivety and knowledge is established.

Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution

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