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Tings are unraveling in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a realm that manifests, here more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reassembling themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from states, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the hands of crowds. "An element is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says trader a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were stable and strong are deteriorating and giving way."

Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey

Exactly what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that drives this final volume, which picks up where its predecessor ended. This is, according to many, the author's final foray into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling realm he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose landscape corresponds to that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the people look and reason and behave like us, but are paired by external spirits, essences in creature form; where the skies are populated with witches and mythical beasts, but underneath, buses are caught and drinks is drunk, and mature academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the spiky and tenacious protagonist of the earlier books, but more mature, more sorrowful, more cautious, less certain. This limitation is amplified by her division from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Interwoven Plots

Pan's decision to leave in pursuit of that youthful part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an trait which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which chronicled Lyra undertake a adventurous trek across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and peril on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of austere, bureaucratic evil – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's family member, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of president of the authority's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his newfound power to broaden the institution's dominium. Another protagonist, who carried young the heroine to security along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in spycraft: he is dispatched to a key location to learn more about his intentions. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which manifests in some way to be the origin of a societal and economic upheaval emanating out from that area. The oil is viewed by some as a commercial product, by others as a empirical or spiritual wonder, and by others still – the zealous "highland figures" – as a source of darkness; an insult that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.

Like the first series, the heroine's actions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be deeply connected with the fate of the world

In the previous volume, these storylines ran mostly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they merge. Like the first trilogy, the protagonist's movements and her destiny are unveiled to be deeply linked with the destiny of the realm. Her individual journey to reunite with her soul and recover her vision becomes the central battleground in a larger battle with an authoritarian regime which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to stifle independence of thought, innovation and culture: all the personal, defiant ways in which individuals can be independent.

Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles

The story starts with the unveiling of a set of strange openings in the structure of the world's sky: windows that look to give on to other worlds. An example of a portal manifests to be the source of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The authority, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these portals as a challenge to the institution's doctrine and aims to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict rationalism and back to instinct, yet, her conviction that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously essential – grows. "The substance, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a poetic conflict between naivety and maturity is prepared.

Story Tempo and Character Development

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