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Things are falling apart in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a realm that manifests, here more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along new and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and accumulating in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the hands of crowds. "An element is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an city cafe. "Things we thought were stable and durable are weakening and failing."

Core Enigma and Her Quest

Just what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that animates the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's final foray into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first unveiled in the distant past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose landscape maps on to that of this world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the people look and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, souls in creature form; where the air are filled with witches and legendary creatures, but underneath, transports are taken and beverages is drunk, and middle-aged scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still distinctly the sharp and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but more mature, melancholic, more cautious, less sure. This restraint is heightened by her separation from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Merging Narratives

His choice to leave in quest of that childlike part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he represents as her "vision"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the faith's controlling power, and the author's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, administrative evil – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's family member, who blames her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the position of head of the Magisterium's High Council, and is intent on using his fresh influence to extend the church's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who saved infant the heroine to safety along a swollen river as an child in the prequel, is now an academic with a sideline in spycraft: he is dispatched to a key location to learn more about the antagonist's intentions. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and costly essential oil which appears mysteriously to be the source of a social and financial upheaval spreading out from Central Asia. The substance is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by others as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by others still – the zealous "highland figures" – as a origin of evil; an challenge that must be destroyed. The dilemma of where it comes from, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.

Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's decisions, and her destiny, are shown to be inextricably connected with the future of the world

In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran broadly in parallel. In the conclusion, they merge. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's actions and her fate are unveiled to be inextricably woven with the fate of the realm. Her private mission to reconnect with her daemon and rediscover her creativity becomes the primary struggle in a wider battle with an controlling system which, as such authorities always have, is striving to suppress independence of reason, creativity and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be independent.

Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts

The book opens with the unveiling of a collection of curious cracks in the makeup of the world's atmosphere: windows that appear to open into other worlds. An example of a opening manifests to be the point of the much debated mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its helm, designates these windows as a challenge to the church's beliefs and aims to destroy them. As Lyra begins to turn away from rigid logic and return to intuition, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously vital – increases. "The substance, or the substance, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a Blakean tussle between innocence and knowledge is set.

Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth

At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the