I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman | book review
Dystopian novel devoid of hope, with a spurt of innate human curiosity
Tip: Do not read I Who Have Never Known Men when you’re already in a ~low mood.
I had just finished reading a string of rather long books, including Hello Beautiful (416 pages) and Butter (464 pages), and wanted a shorter book to cleanse my palate. I Who Have Never Known Men fit the bill at 208 pages. Dear reader, learn from my mistake: short ≠ light.
In hindsight, what did I expect from a dystopian book? Again, not my finest hour, particularly when I couldn’t sleep at 2AM, having been in slight mental funk for a few weeks already, and decided to finish this book.
Aside from the catalyst at the start, which was both exciting and purposeful, I Who Have Never Known Men is almost entirely devoid of hope. It is stoic drudgery, simply survival from one day to the next.
In that regard, it is perhaps a reflection of society. We (or some of us) start out life hopeful. We see spurts of inspiration, have good cause to dream. But as life goes on, sometimes it reduces to going from one bunker to the next when we run out of food or need new boots. Sometimes we fell timber to build houses; others, we watch people retreat into the houses we built together, shutting us off from each other.
The quest that the 40 women start out with slowly turns into aimless wander, then stasis as they forget what hope means. Even when the Child narrator (who becomes an adult in the early days of freedom) discovers something that assists survival, there is no joy, because what is the purpose of survival?
We had survived the prison, the plain and the loss of all hope, but the women had discovered that survival is no more than putting off the moment of death.
I wonder whether I would prefer to be one of the 39 women who experienced life before—therefore knowing both what they have lost and its innate beauty and pleasures—or to be the Child, who has no point of comparison. The 39 seem more ready to leave this life, though surprisingly most live out their natural days, whilst the Child keeps living for each day, perhaps because she has no hopes for what comes next.
The Child, though she does not have particular hopes, does have a deep curiosity I admire, despite the fruitlessness of it. It is a curious observation of humans: how, even devoid of hope, we still find things to cling to, still seek knowledge, even if its form is markedly different from what we expect.
Because I want to know! Sometimes, you can use what you know, but that’s not what counts most. I want to know everything there is to know. Not because it’s any use, but for the pleasure of knowing, and now I demand that you teach me everything you know, even if I will never be able to use it.
I am fascinated by how all the characters are women, aside from one male guard who is the object of the Child’s initial fantasies, and brief observations of the dead male prisoners they encounter in their quest. The relationships formed by these 40 women are both atypical, yet so common. When a group of people are forced together, as they do in regular life, little alliances form. The love within those small groups seems to suffocate outside, however. Perhaps it is because they are not natural friends; perhaps it is because each of these women, aside from the Child narrator, knows what it is to lose people they love, and further, struggle to find any meaning in their current reality.
Death had begun its work. Who would it single out next time? A vague melancholy set in. I think they were wondering why they were wearing themselves out trying to survive from day to day in this alien land where only the grave awaited them, but they didn’t talk about it. They no longer chatted endlessly about nothing, but came and went in silence, slowly, as if weighed down by inevitability.
Having read this, I’m more keen to read The Handmaid’s Tale, which it has been compared to. I would also read another dystopian book, though perhaps I will time it better next time. I Who Have Never Known Men was originally published in French in 1995, then translated into English in 1997.
Book information
Title: I Who Have Never Known Men
Author: Jacqueline Harpman
Translator: Ros Schwartz
Published: 1995; 1997 in English
Length: 208 pages
Book description
Discover the haunting, heartbreaking post-apocalyptic tale of female friendship and intimacy set in a deserted world.
Deep underground, thirty-nine women are kept in isolation in a cage. Above ground, a world awaits. Has it been abandoned? Devastated by a virus?
Watched over by guards, the women have no memory of how they got there, no notion of time, and only vague recollection of their lives before. But, as the burn of electric light merges day into night and numberless years pass, a young girl - the fortieth prisoner - sits alone and outcast in the corner.
Soon she will show herself to be the key to the others' escape and survival in the strange world that awaits them above ground. The woman who will never know men.
it's a beautiful book and definitely not uplifting 😭
I’ve been wanting to read this book, and your description sealed the deal! Love your review ❤️