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Tings are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that manifests, in this volume especially, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reassembling themselves along new and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is draining from states, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the coffers of business empires, the control of mobs. "An element is at work, silently, gradually", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and durable are deteriorating and failing."

Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey

Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives The Rose Field, which resumes where the previous book ended. This is, according to many, the author's final venture into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting realm he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a world whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and act like us, but are paired by animal souls, beings in beast form; where the skies are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but below, vehicles are taken and tea is drunk, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still recognisably the prickly and determined main character of the previous installments, but more mature, melancholic, more careful, less sure. This limitation is heightened by her split from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.

Merging Narratives

His choice to leave in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a wandering voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with wonder and risk on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of rigid, procedural evil – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's family member, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the office of president of the church's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired authority to expand the institution's rule. A key character, who carried baby Lyra to safety along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in spycraft: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about his plans. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and valuable botanical extract which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a social and economic disturbance spreading out from Central Asia. The oil is viewed by various factions as a tradeable product, by others as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of evil; an insult that must be obliterated. The dilemma of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be removed or protected is escalating in importance.

As in the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her fate, are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the world

In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran largely in side by side. In The Rose Field, they converge. Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her destiny are revealed to be inseparably woven with the destiny of the world. Her private mission to reconnect with her daemon and regain her vision becomes the key battleground in a wider battle with an authoritarian government which, as such authorities often attempt, is attempting to quell autonomy of thought, originality and art: all the inner, resistant ways in which humans can be liberated.

Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles

The story begins with the discovery of a collection of curious cracks in the makeup of the planet's sky: gateways that appear to give on to different dimensions. One such portal manifests to be the origin of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The Magisterium, with its leader at its leadership, labels these windows as a challenge to the church's orthodoxy and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from inflexible rationalism and return to intuition, however, her conviction that these places must be protected – that their meaning and what they provide is in some way vital – strengthens. "Dust, or rose oil, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a Blakean conflict between innocence and knowledge is established.

Story Tempo and Character Development

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