The Declaration

Set in the Britain of the early 22nd century, this remarkably assured debut novel engages with those well known dualities, youth and age. Medical progress – if ‘progress’ is what it is – has been such that virtually everyone can live indefinitely; the population grows; the ruling powers decree that adults must sign ‘the declaration’ not to have children. Those ‘surplus’ children who manage to be born are placed in institutional care, in this particular case in the grimmer than grim Grange Hall, presided over by the sadistic Mrs Pincent: her regime is one of degradation and humiliation, in which daily beatings – some of them very graphically described – are the norm. It is on Anna, one of the ‘surplus’ residents, that the narrative centres and, more especially, on the relationship which develops between her and a new inmate, Peter, whose aim from the moment of his arrival is clearly to question and overthrow the system. So, two young teenagers take on an adult world which is appallingly cruel and repressive: it is a familiar theme, but one handled here with considerable freshness and, certainly, a great deal of energy. There are times, especially as the denouement approaches, when events threaten to lose their credibility, though generally the plotting is sufficiently skilful and well paced to maintain our interest. As a dystopian picture of how, just over a century from now, our world might have developed, Malley’s novel is extremely chilling and, in places, quite harrowing.