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Things are falling apart in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that seems, now more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reassembling themselves along new and troubling lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from states, and pooling in the halls of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the grasp of rioters. "Something is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and solid are weakening and giving way."

Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey

Exactly what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that animates the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's final foray into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating realm he first unveiled in the distant past, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose terrain aligns with that of the real world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, essences in creature form; where the heavens are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and beverages is drunk, and older scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a adult: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is heightened by her division from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.

Merging Narratives

The daemon's resolve to depart in quest of that youthful part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in action, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the church's governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of rigid, procedural wickedness – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the role of head of the authority's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his fresh power to broaden the church's control. Another protagonist, who saved infant Lyra to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an young boy in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to Geneva to discover more about Delamare's intentions. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable rose oil which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a social and financial upheaval rippling out from that area. The oil is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by alternate groups as a empirical or esoteric phenomenon, and by others still – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an affront that must be destroyed. The dilemma of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.

Similar to the original trilogy, our protagonist's actions, and her future, are revealed to be inextricably linked with the fate of the universe

In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran mostly in parallel. In The Rose Field, they converge. Similar to the original series, her movements and her destiny are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the world. Her private mission to reconnect with her daemon and recover her creativity becomes the primary battleground in a larger battle with an oppressive government which, as such regimes always have, is striving to suppress autonomy of thinking, creativity and expression: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.

Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles

The story starts with the discovery of a series of unusual fissures in the makeup of the Earth's atmosphere: portals that seem to open into alternate realities. One such window seems to be the point of the much debated rose oil. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its helm, classifies these windows as a challenge to the church's doctrine and endeavors to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict reason and back to feeling, yet, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and what they provide is mysteriously crucial – grows. "The substance, 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 innocence and experience is set.

Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth

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