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Tings are collapsing in the last installment of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from governments, and gathering in the chambers of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the grasp of mobs. "Something is at work, stealthily, gradually", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and durable are faltering and giving way."

The Central Mystery and Her Quest

Precisely what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that drives The Rose Field, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding foray into the elaborately built, deeply captivating universe he first revealed 30 years ago, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose landscape maps on to that of our world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and think and act like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the heavens are teeming with witches and gryphons, but underneath, buses are ridden and tea is drunk, and middle-aged scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious protagonist of the prior volumes, but older, sadder, more careful, more doubtful. This circumscription is intensified by her split from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.

Merging Narratives

Pan's decision to leave in pursuit of that innocent part of her which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and peril on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of austere, procedural malice – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. The antagonist – our protagonist's family member, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of president of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired influence to expand the religion's control. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued infant the heroine to safety along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is sent to a key location to find out more about the antagonist's intentions. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and precious essential oil which seems somehow to be the source of a social and economic crisis spreading out from the region. The substance is regarded by some as a tradeable good, by alternate groups as a research-based or mystical phenomenon, and by others still – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of malevolence; an affront that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.

Like the first series, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be inseparably connected with the destiny of the world

In its predecessor, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they merge. Similar to His Dark Materials, the protagonist's choices and her path are unveiled to be deeply woven with the fate of the world. Her personal quest to reunite with her soul and regain her creativity becomes the key battleground in a larger conflict with an oppressive regime which, as such authorities always have, is seeking to stifle autonomy of thought, creativity and expression: all the inner, defiant ways in which individuals can be independent.

Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles

The book begins with the unveiling of a series of curious openings in the structure of the planet's atmosphere: gateways that look to give on to different dimensions. A particular portal manifests to be the source of the highly contested botanical substance. The authority, with its leader at its head, classifies these windows as a threat to the church's beliefs and endeavors to destroy them. As Lyra begins to turn away from inflexible rationalism and return to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be protected – that what they stand for and what they offer is somehow vital – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a Blakean tussle between purity and experience is prepared.

Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution

At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the