I Who Have Never Known Men

There’s no continuity and the world I have come from is utterly foreign to me. I haven’t heard its music, I haven’t seen its painting, I haven’t read its books, except for the handful I found in the refuge and of which I understood little. I know only the stony plain, wandering, and the gradual loss of hope. I am the sterile offspring of a race about which I know nothing, not even whether it has become extinct.

Highly recommended from me. This book is sort of a melancholy post-apocalyptic coming-of-age survival story, but with a dreamlike tint. It's uncompromising in not giving any pat answers to any of its questions. Why are these women here? Where has everybody else gone? Is this even earth? I feel like it explores a lot of ideas around trauma and knowledge and purpose, but at its heart I feel like it's really getting at what it means to be human when you are disconnected from past social structures but also disconnected from hope for the future.

It's hard to put into words what this book feels like when reading it that hasn't already been discussed in the afterword of the new edition.

The narrative simultaneously moves on ahead while also never progressing at all. We are shown great compassion alongside incomprehensible cruelty. There never seem to be any answers--only confusing contradictions.

And perhaps that's what being human is. We move forward, knowing all along that what waits for us is death. Some people spend their whole lives trying to make the world better and others do the opposite. Most are somewhere in the middle.

I think this book asks us to think about our humanity and what it means to us. To consider our actions in both macro and micro terms. It's a simple, yet difficult book. I enjoyed it and would like to read it again someday.

This book shall be my go-to reference for enjoyable stories that leave you with no answers for what is going on. We don't even know if they're on earth or not. Everything written in the book is learned through the main character who has never known life outside of the bunker. It adds an extra flair of surrealism as she gets to see and witness all these new things that the other women with her took for granted.

This copy contains an afterward referencing Jacqueline's family having to flee their home during the Nazi invasion and the likelihood that the other bunkers full of dead bodies was influenced by the concentration camps. This added an entirely new level to the book for me.

Another audiobook that was well-done. The narrator did a really great job at conveying the innocence that the MC would have had due to not knowing the world and that information being held from her because what's the point in teaching it since they will all die in the bunker and she will never experience a semblance of what life once was.

This is one that I will be buying a copy of. Highly recommend.

Expect only questions, no answers from this book.

Have you ever read one of those stories where after the apocalypse, or maybe on an uninhabited island, one person is left, seemingly the only person left alive at all? And the whole story arc is about them dealing with loneliness and trying to find another human? Usually they do, usually one of the opposite sex, the implication being that they'll procreate, thereby solving the loneliness problem for at least two generations. Have you ever thought about that second generation? The siblings who will either have to resort to incest or dying out one by one? I often did. I wondered what it would be like for the last sibling, truly the last person on earth now.

I Who Have Never Known Men is about that last person, an account of her life, and it's as bleak as you would expect it to be. Everywhere this is grouped as a feminist novel, which I think is a bit shallow. Sure, the topic of gender comes up, and all the characters are women, but it's one of those stories were if the genders were flipped, if it was about a sole male surviving the apocalypse, no one would see that as a statement on gender. Really, in my opinion, it's about the meaning of life, and how much would be left of it without the rest of humanity. What use are the women's attempts at rebuilding a semblance of their previous lives, at finding out why what happened to them happened to them, at passing down knowledge to the one child among them, if there are no other people to share it with, no next generation to pass it down to? The pointlessness is soul-sucking. And it never abates.

It takes a special kind of person to enjoy a book like this, but if you like bleak, questioning, open-ended narratives, with the grace to be short reads, you should definitely give this one a try.

I Who Have Never Known Men is a disturbingly haunting story. A woman recounts her life to us although, from her earliest memories until the time she finds pen, paper and the inclination to write, she has no idea where she is or why she is there. As readers, we have no idea either. We are told of her immediate surroundings - of the cage and the other women locked inside it - in detail. We learn of the deprivations of their daily lives and of the silent guards forever pacing up and down. We know that the women originally lived in a society like ours because they remember it, but where the girl came from, nobody knows. Are they all caged for their own protection or as a punishment? Is there anyone else? Anywhere?

Harpman's writing is perfect for this novel. Her skill in being able to tell an utterly compelling story while leaving out practically all the background information is genius! In the hands of a lesser author I would no doubt be bemoaning gaping plot holes or inconsistent information, but here our narrator's questioning of her circumstances exactly reflected my questioning and drew me towards her rather than pushing me away. At several points I paused to put myself into her position. How would I react?

I Who Have Never Known Men is all about our inner lives as women, how we find a purpose for ourselves and what we can achieve when we need to. I would not have been surprised if this novel had been written immediately post-war. I felt it had that sense about it - of escaping extreme trauma, of realising that survival isn't the end, it isn't enough. The dystopian emptiness of this land is terrifying, especially as the women become fewer in number, and its portrayal is also extremely timely. The current rate of species extinction on Earth means Harpman's imagined desolation might not be so far away after all.