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Things are collapsing in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a world that manifests, here more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reassembling themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is draining from states, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the hands of mobs. "An element is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and durable are weakening and collapsing."

Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey

Just what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that drives the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final excursion into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first revealed 30 years ago, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose landscape aligns with that of this world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the people look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, essences in beast form; where the air are populated with witches and gryphons, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and tea is sipped, and middle-aged scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then revisited 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 persistent protagonist of the earlier books, but older, more sorrowful, warier, less sure. This limitation is heightened by her division from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.

Interwoven Plots

Pan's decision to go off in quest of that youthful part of her which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he represents as her "creativity"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of austere, procedural wickedness – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. The antagonist – our protagonist's relative, who blames her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the role of leader of the authority's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his newfound power to broaden the religion's rule. Another protagonist, who carried infant Lyra to safety along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in espionage: he is dispatched to the city to discover more about the antagonist's plans. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and precious essential oil which appears mysteriously to be the cause of a social and financial upheaval spreading out from Central Asia. The substance is viewed by various factions as a marketable commodity, by alternate groups as a empirical or esoteric miracle, and by further factions – the zealous "highland figures" – as a source of malevolence; an insult that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.

Similar to the original trilogy, Lyra's actions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply connected with the destiny of the universe

In the previous volume, these narratives ran largely in parallel. In this final book, they converge. As in His Dark Materials, her actions and her destiny are shown to be deeply entwined with the fate of the universe. Her personal quest to reunite with her soul and recover her creativity becomes the primary conflict in a wider battle with an oppressive system which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to stifle independence of thinking, originality and art: all the inner, resistant ways in which people can be liberated.

Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles

The novel begins with the finding of a set of curious cracks in the makeup of the planet's atmosphere: portals that appear to open into alternate realities. A particular portal seems to be the source of the highly contested mystical extract. The authority, with Delamare at its head, designates these portals as a threat to the institution's doctrine and sets out to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to move from rigid rationalism and return to intuition, yet, her conviction that these locations must be preserved – that their significance and what they offer is in some way essential – grows. "Dust, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a philosophical tussle between naivety and knowledge is established.

Narrative Pacing and Character Development

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