Blue Ticket

A wonderful piece of original and haunting prose about choice and knowledge, set in a future dystopia and discussing the fundamental question of motherhood. Blue Ticket clearly pays homage to Atwood's Handmaid's Tale, but there are also echoes of much more modern female writing too, such as that of Emily St. John Mandel and Rosa Rankin-Gee. Stylistically, the world evoked by Mackintosh is both of this world and also otherworldly, intense and dreamlike, reminiscent of Ishiguro, or, as one critic put it, if David Lynch had been an author. The premise of the novel relates to the decision made by a nameless authority (about which we frustratingly never know more — unlike in Atwood's classic) that awards every girl a ticket when their first period commences. Blue means you are “free” and can live an independent life, but not be a mother; white means the inverse. Calla, the narrator, is “blue”, but becomes increasingly convinced that she should have been “white”. What follows is inevitable: she removes her contraceptive device, gets pregnant, and is then forced to live with the consequences. On the run, the threat of being captured is offset by the novel experience of pending motherhood, both physical and emotional. Mackintosh rightly asks why women should be categorised or judged based on this very fundamental and also highly personal life choice. The most poignant moment of the novel arguably comes at its close. Calla is forced to give up her baby, but does at least learn that the lottery was, and always will be, random. Why, we never learn. Achieving perfect closure is hard, but done so here. 10/10.

By Sophie Mackintosh