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Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that appears, now more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from states, and accumulating in the halls of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the control of rioters. "Some force is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and giving way."

The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path

Precisely what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives The Rose Field, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's concluding excursion into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first introduced 30 years ago, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of the real world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and think and act like us, but are accompanied by daemons, beings in animal form; where the air are populated with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, vehicles are caught and tea is sipped, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the first volume, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious protagonist of the earlier books, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, more doubtful. This restraint is heightened by her separation from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.

Converging Storylines

The daemon's resolve to go off in pursuit of that innocent part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and danger on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in action, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the faith's ruling body, and the author's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, bureaucratic malice – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who blames her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the role of head of the Magisterium's High Council, and is intent on using his recently acquired authority to extend the institution's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who carried baby Lyra to refuge along a flooded river as an child in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is sent to a key location to learn more about Delamare's intentions. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and valuable botanical extract which appears somehow to be the origin of a social and financial upheaval rippling out from Central Asia. The extract is seen by some as a tradeable commodity, by others as a research-based or mystical wonder, and by further factions – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an affront that must be obliterated. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.

Similar to the original trilogy, our protagonist's decisions, and her fate, are revealed to be inseparably connected with the future of the realm

In its predecessor, these storylines ran largely in tandem. In this final book, they come together. As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her path are shown to be inseparably woven with the fate of the realm. Her personal mission to reconnect with her companion and regain her creativity becomes the primary struggle in a broader battle with an oppressive regime which, as such regimes typically do, is attempting to quell freedom of thought, innovation and art: all the personal, resistant ways in which people can be liberated.

Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles

The book starts with the unveiling of a collection of strange cracks in the fabric of the planet's atmosphere: windows that appear to open into different dimensions. A particular opening appears to be the source of the highly contested botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its leadership, labels these openings as a threat to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict reason and back to instinct, nevertheless, her conviction that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously vital – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or whatever we name it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a poetic struggle between purity and experience is established.

Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution

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