The Pharmacist

Rachelle Atalla

Hachette

Scottish-Egyptian author and former pharmacist Rachelle Atalla’s debut novel was inspired by a visit to WWII-build bunkers deep beneath Berlin. It explores the social and psychological effects on individuals and communities living in such an environment.

The story, which opens with a depiction of self-harm that may distress some readers, is set in the aftermath of a nuclear exchange, with the bunker’s specially selected inhabitants seven months into a thirty-six-month stay. Life is tedious and strictly regimented: Food consists of NASA-designed pureed meals, three pouches per day; personal possessions – carried at all times lest they be stolen – comprise two regulation boiler suits and blankets (grey), a pair of gym shoes (without laces, to prevent suicide), a set of underwear and a toothbrush; the use of first names is discouraged, “cast-off from a life that no longer existed.”  

Despite this, 34-year-old pharmacist Sarah Wolfe, ID number 0377, is aware of how lucky she is to be here, her ex-lover having passed on her name and altered the paperwork to remove mention of her infertility. Now, she spends her days handing out antidepressants and sanitary products and doing what she can to stay sane. Everything changes, however, when she is summoned to the Leader’s private headquarters, where she is astonished to discover something much closer to ‘real’ life. Offering luxurious rewards like solid food and movie viewings, The Leader’s initial request for reports on specific individuals seems innocuous, but his demands soon escalate towards the unconscionable.

The means by which order within the community is maintained and enforced are believably depicted, as is the novel’s exploration of the ways people use fantasy (in addition to medication) to deal with their confinement. Wolfe and her upper bunk-mate address discuss the (non-existent) weather and promise to have dinner on the table at the end of the day. The woman on the bunk below undertakes imaginary world tours using the travel books, which, along with craft and light romance, make up the bulk of the bunker’s carefully selected library. But imagination is a two-edged sword, be it the Leader’s increasing paranoid fantasies or Wolfe’s increasingly tortuous self-justification.

Everything is narrated in the immediate first person, forcing us to witness Wolfe’s moral disintegration through her own eyes and influencing our judgement of her. By making us privy to how Wolfe rationalises her actions – not least her belief that she is already a bad person for walking away from friends and family without saying ‘goodbye’ or warning them of the coming disaster – Atilla invites us to empathise, if not sympathise, with her. Nor is this the only moral ambiguity The Pharmacist addresses. The slow corrosion of Wolfe’s personal and professional principles is distressing to witness. Still, its climax suggests it may have been necessary for a greater good (the conclusion is suitably ambiguous). It also reminds us that even at the end of the world, we will carry the best and worst aspects of humanity within us.