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Tings are falling apart in the last installment of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, now more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along novel and troubling lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is draining from governments, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of business empires, the hands of mobs. "An element is at work, stealthily, gradually", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are weakening and giving way."

Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path

Precisely what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that propels this final volume, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, by all accounts, the author's final excursion into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose terrain maps on to that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, essences in animal form; where the heavens are filled with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but below, vehicles are taken and tea is drunk, and older academics carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still clearly the spiky and persistent protagonist of the previous installments, but older, more sorrowful, more cautious, less sure. This restraint is intensified by her division from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.

Converging Storylines

Pan's decision to leave in search of that childlike part of her which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with amazement and peril on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of austere, bureaucratic malice – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the office of leader of the church's ruling assembly, and is set on using his fresh power to extend the church's control. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued baby Lyra to security along a swollen river as an child in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in espionage: he is sent to the city to learn more about Delamare's aims. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and precious botanical extract which seems in some way to be the origin of a societal and economic upheaval rippling out from Central Asia. The oil is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by others as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a source of malevolence; an affront that must be destroyed. The issue of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.

Similar to the first series, the heroine's decisions, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply entwined with the future of the realm

In the previous volume, these narratives ran broadly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they converge. As in the original series, the protagonist's actions and her path are revealed to be inextricably woven with the future of the world. Her individual journey to reconnect with her companion and regain her creativity becomes the key conflict in a broader war with an authoritarian government which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to suppress freedom of thought, creativity and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.

Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles

The novel opens with the unveiling of a set of unusual cracks in the fabric of the world's sky: windows that appear to give on to other worlds. One such opening manifests to be the source of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The Magisterium, with its leader at its helm, classifies these windows as a challenge to the institution's orthodoxy and aims to destroy them. As the heroine begins to turn away from strict rationalism and back to feeling, yet, her conviction that these sites must be protected – that what they stand for and what they offer is somehow vital – grows. "The substance, or rose oil, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical conflict between naivety and maturity is prepared.

Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth

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