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Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a realm that seems, in this volume especially, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from governments, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the coffers of business empires, the hands of crowds. "An element is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and strong are deteriorating and giving way."

The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey

Just what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, reportedly, the author's final foray into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting universe he first unveiled three decades past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a world whose terrain maps on to that of the real world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the people look and think and behave like us, but are paired by external spirits, souls in animal form; where the skies are teeming with witches and mythical beasts, but below, buses are caught and tea is drunk, and older scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a child in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the spiky and determined main character of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, less certain. This limitation is intensified by her split from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.

Interwoven Plots

The daemon's resolve to leave in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an trait which he represents as her "creativity"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and danger on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in action, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the faith's controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of strict, procedural evil – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's uncle, who blames her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the position of leader of the authority's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his fresh influence to expand the church's rule. Another protagonist, who saved infant Lyra to security along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in spycraft: he is sent to a key location to discover more about the antagonist's intentions. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and precious botanical extract which manifests in some way to be the source of a social and economic crisis rippling out from the region. The extract is viewed by various factions as a commercial commodity, by alternate groups as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by others still – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of darkness; an insult that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its source, its significance, and if it should be removed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.

Like the first series, Lyra's actions, and her future, are shown to be deeply linked with the destiny of the realm

In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran mostly 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 inseparably entwined with the future of the world. Her individual quest to reconnect with her soul and recover her vision becomes the primary struggle in a larger conflict with an controlling government which, as such authorities always have, is seeking to stifle autonomy of thought, innovation and art: all the internal, defiant ways in which people can be free.

Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles

The story begins with the unveiling of a set of curious openings in the fabric of the world's sky: portals that look to lead to different dimensions. An example of a portal manifests to be the origin of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The church, with its leader at its leadership, designates these portals as a problem to the institution's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to move from rigid logic and revert to feeling, nevertheless, her certainty that these places must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is somehow essential – increases. "The substance, or the substance, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or whatever we name it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a philosophical struggle between innocence and maturity is prepared.

Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth

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