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Tings are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that appears, in this volume especially, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along novel and troubling lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from authorities, and pooling in the halls of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the control of mobs. "Something is at work, silently, gradually", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and solid are weakening and failing."

Core Enigma and Her Quest

Just what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives the concluding book, which resumes where its predecessor left off. This is, according to many, the author's final venture into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first revealed in the distant past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose geography corresponds to that of this world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, beings in creature form; where the heavens are filled with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, vehicles are taken and beverages is sipped, and mature scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a child in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the prequel, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the spiky and determined heroine of the prior volumes, but aged, sadder, more cautious, more doubtful. This restraint is amplified by her split from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Interwoven Plots

The daemon's resolve to depart in pursuit of that youthful part of her which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering journey across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with wonder and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of strict, bureaucratic malice – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's relative, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the role of president of the church's ruling assembly, and is set on using his fresh influence to extend the institution's rule. Another protagonist, who carried infant the heroine to security along a swollen river as an child in the prequel, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to the city to discover more about his plans. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which appears somehow to be the cause of a societal and economic disturbance rippling out from Central Asia. The extract is regarded by some as a commercial commodity, by alternate groups as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by further factions – the extremist "highland figures" – as a origin of evil; an insult that must be obliterated. The issue of its source, its meaning, and if it should be eliminated or preserved is becoming urgent.

Like the original trilogy, the heroine's actions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the world

In its predecessor, these plots ran largely in side by side. In this final book, they merge. Like the original series, the protagonist's actions and her path are unveiled to be inseparably woven with the destiny of the universe. Her individual quest to reunite with her companion and regain her vision becomes the key struggle in a larger war with an controlling government which, as such authorities often attempt, is striving to suppress freedom of thinking, creativity and culture: all the personal, resistant ways in which individuals can be liberated.

Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles

The book starts with the unveiling of a collection of unusual cracks in the structure of the Earth's atmosphere: gateways that seem to lead to different dimensions. A particular opening manifests to be the origin of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its leadership, classifies these openings as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and sets out to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict reason and return to instinct, yet, her conviction that these places must be preserved – that their significance and what they offer is somehow crucial – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a Blakean conflict between purity and maturity is established.

Narrative Pacing and Character Development

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