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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 universe that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and troubling lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is draining from governments, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the hands of crowds. "Some force is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and solid are deteriorating and failing."

The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey

Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that drives the concluding book, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding venture into the elaborately built, deeply captivating realm he first unveiled three decades past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose landscape corresponds to that of this world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and behave like us, but are paired by daemons, essences in animal form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, buses are taken and tea is consumed, and mature professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a child in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the sharp and determined heroine of the previous installments, but aged, melancholic, more careful, more doubtful. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.

Merging Narratives

The daemon's resolve to go off in quest of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with wonder and risk on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in motion, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of strict, administrative wickedness – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of head of the authority's High Council, and is intent on using his newfound authority to expand the church's control. Another protagonist, who carried young Lyra to safety along a flooded Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a sideline in intelligence work: he is assigned to the city to learn more about Delamare's aims. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which appears somehow to be the origin of a social and economic disturbance spreading out from the region. The substance is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable product, by others as a scientific or spiritual miracle, and by others still – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.

Like the first series, our protagonist's deeds, and her future, are demonstrated to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the world

In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran mostly in tandem. In the conclusion, they come together. As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's choices and her fate are shown to be inseparably entwined with the future of the realm. Her private journey to reunite with her companion and regain her creativity becomes the central struggle in a larger war with an oppressive regime which, as these systems always have, is seeking to stifle autonomy of thinking, creativity and culture: all the internal, resistant ways in which people can be free.

Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles

The novel starts with the unveiling of a series of curious fissures in the fabric of the Earth's atmosphere: gateways that seem to give on to different dimensions. A particular portal manifests to be the origin of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The authority, with the antagonist at its leadership, designates these openings as a problem to the church's beliefs and endeavors to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from inflexible logic and return to feeling, nevertheless, her certainty that these sites must be defended – that their significance and what they provide is in some way essential – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a poetic conflict between innocence and maturity is established.

Narrative Pacing and Character Development

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