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Things are collapsing in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that seems, now more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of business empires, the grasp of rioters. "Some force is at work, silently, very subtly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and strong are weakening and collapsing."

Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path

Precisely what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that propels this final volume, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last foray into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling universe he first revealed in the distant past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose terrain corresponds to that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, souls in creature form; where the air are filled with witches and gryphons, but below, buses are ridden and drinks is sipped, and older academics carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a child in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which the author began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still clearly the prickly and determined main character of the previous installments, but older, more sorrowful, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is intensified by her split from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Interwoven Plots

Pan's decision to leave in quest of that youthful part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with wonder and danger on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the faith's controlling power, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of austere, procedural evil – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. The antagonist – our protagonist's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is set on using his newfound influence to extend the religion's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued infant the heroine to refuge along a flooded river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in espionage: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about the antagonist's aims. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which manifests mysteriously to be the cause of a social and financial disturbance emanating out from the region. The substance is seen by various factions as a tradeable commodity, by different parties as a research-based or mystical phenomenon, and by others still – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a origin of evil; an challenge that must be eradicated. The question of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.

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

In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran mostly in side by side. In this final book, they come together. Like the first trilogy, her actions and her path are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the realm. Her personal quest to reconnect with her daemon and recover her vision becomes the key struggle in a broader battle with an controlling regime which, as these systems always have, is attempting to suppress autonomy of reason, creativity and expression: all the inner, rebellious ways in which humans can be independent.

Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles

The book begins with the unveiling of a set of unusual cracks in the structure of the Earth's air: portals that seem to give on to alternate realities. A particular opening seems to be the origin of the much debated rose oil. The authority, with Delamare at its head, classifies these openings as a challenge to the church's beliefs and aims to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict logic and back to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be protected – that their meaning and what they provide is mysteriously essential – increases. "Dust, or the extract, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a philosophical conflict between naivety and maturity is set.

Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth

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