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Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that appears, in this volume especially, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and troubling lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from states, and accumulating in the offices of religious leaders, the coffers of corporations, the hands of crowds. "An element is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and giving way."

The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path

Just what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates the concluding book, which picks up where its predecessor concluded. This is, according to many, the author's final excursion into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first introduced in the distant past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose landscape maps on to that of this world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and think and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, beings in beast form; where the skies are populated with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and drinks is sipped, and middle-aged professors carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a adult: still recognisably the prickly and persistent protagonist of the previous installments, but aged, melancholic, more careful, less sure. This circumscription is amplified by her split from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Merging Narratives

Pan's decision to depart in search of that childlike part of her which she seems to have lost (an quality which he represents as her "vision"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed the protagonist undertake a adventurous voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and danger on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in action, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister embodiment of rigid, procedural malice – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. The antagonist – Lyra's family member, who faults her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the office of head of the church's High Council, and is determined on using his fresh influence to extend the religion's control. Another protagonist, who saved young Lyra to security along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in spycraft: he is dispatched to a key location to find out more about his aims. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and precious rose oil which seems somehow to be the origin of a societal and financial crisis spreading out from Central Asia. The substance is viewed by certain groups as a marketable commodity, by others as a scientific or mystical miracle, and by others still – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of evil; an affront that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be eliminated or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.

Like His Dark Materials, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inextricably linked with the fate of the realm

In its predecessor, these narratives ran broadly in tandem. In the conclusion, they come together. Like His Dark Materials, the protagonist's choices and her destiny are revealed to be inextricably linked with the fate of the universe. Her individual quest to reconnect with her companion and recover her imagination becomes the central battleground in a wider conflict with an controlling government which, as these systems often attempt, is striving to stifle autonomy of thinking, innovation and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which people can be independent.

Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles

The novel opens with the unveiling of a set of curious cracks in the makeup of the world's atmosphere: gateways that appear to lead to different dimensions. One such opening appears to be the origin of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its leadership, labels these openings as a threat to the religion's orthodoxy and aims to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from rigid rationalism and revert to intuition, however, her belief that these sites must be preserved – that their meaning and what they provide is mysteriously vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we name it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a poetic conflict between innocence and knowledge is prepared.

Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth

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