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Tings are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is draining from authorities, and pooling in the halls of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the grasp of mobs. "An element is at work, silently, very subtly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and durable are faltering and failing."

Key Puzzle and Her Quest

Precisely what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final excursion into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating realm he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose landscape aligns with that of this world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans appear and reason and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, essences in creature form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but below, transports are taken and tea is sipped, and mature scholars carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still clearly the sharp and persistent heroine of the earlier books, but older, sadder, more cautious, more doubtful. This restraint is heightened by her division from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Merging Narratives

His choice to depart in quest of that youthful part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with amazement and risk on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in action, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of strict, bureaucratic malice – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's relative, who blames her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of head of the church's High Council, and is intent on using his recently acquired influence to expand the church's control. A key character, who carried infant the heroine to security along a swollen river as an young boy in the first book, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to the city to learn more about his intentions. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable rose oil which manifests in some way to be the origin of a social and financial disturbance spreading out from that area. The substance is viewed by various factions as a marketable commodity, by alternate groups as a empirical or mystical wonder, and by others still – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of malevolence; an challenge that must be obliterated. The question of where it comes from, its meaning, and whether it should be removed or preserved is becoming urgent.

Similar to the original trilogy, Lyra's deeds, and her future, are demonstrated to be inextricably connected with the fate of the universe

In the previous volume, these plots ran mostly in parallel. In this final book, they merge. Like His Dark Materials, the protagonist's choices and her destiny are unveiled to be inseparably linked with the future of the world. Her individual journey to reconnect with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the primary battleground in a broader battle with an authoritarian regime which, as such authorities often attempt, is seeking to suppress autonomy of thought, originality and expression: all the internal, resistant ways in which individuals can be liberated.

Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles

The story opens with the discovery of a set of curious openings in the structure of the Earth's sky: gateways that look to lead to alternate realities. One such opening manifests to be the origin of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its leadership, designates these portals as a challenge to the religion's doctrine and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from inflexible reason and back to feeling, however, her belief that these sites must be protected – that their meaning and what they offer is in some way vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or whatever we name it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a Blakean conflict between naivety and maturity is prepared.

Story Tempo and Character Development

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