I Who Have Never Known Men : A review

I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman is a dystopian tale following the experiences of an unnamed young girl and thirty-nine older women living enclosed in an underground bunker, with no recollection of how they got there. Their keepers are male guards, silent and watchful, providing the women with the bare necessities and cracking a whip at any prohibited behaviour. The young girl, having known nothing but the cage, begins to explore what it means to think, feel, and understand, just as an alarm blares and the guards disappear, leaving their cage unlocked. What follows is an aching tale of discovery: discovery of friendship, intimacy, survival, humanity, meaning, and love.

Reading this felt like witnessing a person come into awareness of their autonomy

This novel is told in three parts: life in the bunker, the escape, and the events following it. In the first part, we experience the protagonist attempting to understand her humanity; her desire for the young guard, her questioning the authority of the older women, her realising the futility of their situation, and consequently her anger. Reading this felt like witnessing a person come into awareness of their autonomy, no longer being “inquisitive and docile” and no longer fearing the unavailing punishment of disobeying the false authority of somebody just as trapped and clueless. The girl’s sacred inner world invites the reader to think more deeply about the power we have within ourselves, and perhaps how this power could be one of the single most important things in a situation where having it is forbidden.

Harpman expertly stages the opposing forces of the protagonist and the other women in a narrative that attempts to make sense of their situation. A feeling of otherness is quickly established between the protagonist and the women, which I appreciated as a gateway inviting an outside perspective on which things us human, even something such as talking. Something that stood out to me was when the young girl said, “as if talking only served to make things happen. Talking is existing”, in response to being denied a conversation simply because it would not have changed their situation. The young girl is put in a frustrating situation where she, despite having known nothing but the cage, seems to be grasping at humanity more than even those who have experienced it. Later on, it was empowering to read how the women were able to make some sense out of their lives, such as learning to measure time, in such limited circumstances by simply talking, thinking, and existing without giving in to the temptation of futility.

The second part of this novel is a struggle for survival that keeps you waiting and wanting. As the women go from bunker to bunker, you can’t help but feel hope for something different every time; in this way, Harpman pulls you into the narrative where you, much like all the women, know deep down that you will not get the ending you desire. What I found to be really powerful was the transition from the initial sense of hope and freedom expressed by all the characters to the descent into apathy. It was even more heartbreaking to experience the deaths of the women, one by one, knowing that soon the protagonist would be completely alone. Reading this, part of me was glad for the women’s freedom from such an existence, wandering a desolate plain, meeting nothing but corpses and emptiness.

She had never known humanity, but asked questions we have wrestled with for millennia: why are we here? What does our existence mean?

Although it may be argued that most of the novel was repetitive or even idle, I would encourage readers to look at the women’s experience as surreal and, more importantly, encouraging deep reflection within oneself without external triggers. For me, this was what the novel was about: exploring the nature of humanity and what it means to be a human (and a woman, specifically), and, in a world where almost everything has been stripped away, what remains within us? The protagonist had never seen the world we know today, but she had experienced joy, anger, grief, exhaustion, arousal, and love; she had never known humanity, but asked questions we have wrestled with for millennia: Why are we here? What does our existence mean? What I got out of this novel was a profound and somewhat intimidating reminder of all the questions we ask ourselves, and how those questions may never be answered in our lifetime.

This novel is one I won’t forget for a long time. It is haunting, disquieting, and brave in the way that the author never gives us or the protagonist what we so desperately want in the end. If you read I Who Have Never Known Men, prepare for it to stay with you for the rest of your life.