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Things are unraveling in the last installment of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that appears, here more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along novel and troubling lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from states, and gathering in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of rioters. "Something is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and solid are weakening and giving way."

The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey

Just what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that animates this final volume, which resumes where its predecessor ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's last excursion into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first introduced 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a world whose terrain maps on to that of this world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and think and act like us, but are accompanied by daemons, beings in beast form; where the air are populated with sorceresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, transports are taken and drinks is sipped, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a child in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the first volume, the origin story with which the author began the series, is now a mature individual: still clearly the spiky and determined main character of the prior volumes, but more mature, more sorrowful, more careful, less sure. This limitation is intensified by her separation from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.

Interwoven Plots

His choice to depart in quest of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and risk on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of austere, administrative evil – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the role of president of the church's ruling assembly, and is set on using his newfound power to extend the institution's control. Another protagonist, who carried young Lyra to safety along a swollen Thames as an child in the first book, is now an university scholar with a sideline in espionage: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about the antagonist's aims. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and costly essential oil which appears mysteriously to be the cause of a social and financial disturbance emanating out from the region. The oil is viewed by various factions as a commercial good, by others as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by further factions – the extremist "highland figures" – as a source of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be eliminated or protected is becoming urgent.

As in the first series, our protagonist's actions, and her fate, are shown to be inextricably connected with the fate of the realm

In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they come together. Similar to the original series, Lyra's movements and her path are revealed to be deeply woven with the fate of the world. Her private quest to reconnect with her companion and recover her creativity becomes the key struggle in a broader conflict with an oppressive regime which, as such authorities always have, is attempting to suppress freedom of thinking, originality and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which humans can be free.

Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles

The story begins with the finding of a set of curious openings in the makeup of the Earth's atmosphere: gateways that appear to lead to different dimensions. A particular portal appears to be the point of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The Magisterium, with its leader at its head, labels these openings as a threat to the church's doctrine and aims to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from strict rationalism and return to feeling, however, her certainty that these sites must be preserved – that what they stand for and their value is somehow vital – grows. "The substance, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a Blakean conflict between purity and maturity is prepared.

Narrative Pacing and Character Development

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