What does it mean to live a life unnoticed? Jaqueline Harpman’s 1995 novel I Who Have Never Known Men holds an eerie lifeforce that sticks with you in your quietest moments, dissecting the experience of selfhood in a deserted world.
This brief, dystopian fiction presents the life of a girl trapped underground with thirty-nine fellow women, not knowing the reason for her circumstances, only able to grasp the finite world presented to her. It holds quiet celebrations for a life without the restraints of social expectations, and for the camaraderie and sexuality of women without men. Yet, it is utterly human in depicting their gentle attempts at recreating social order in a place resisting their control.
In a world so harshly focused on accumulation and grand success, Harpman reminds us that a life is found in the smallest achievements and most dubious companions. Through our unnamed narrator, you see the world afresh, with books and games becoming finite resources. This book does not offer fulfilment or answers, but instead gradually teaches us that life, even in isolation, is a thing to seize and treasure. It heralds curiosity as the burning force that drives us, each moment of discovery posing a development of personhood for our narrator.
The novel’s deserted landscape is all-encompassing, uncomfortable to the human mind, and a true work of craft. The vast plains produce no solutions, only desperation. Yet, somehow, in a captivating way, this book remains a work of hope and gratitude. Once finished, it lives alongside you, enshrining the simplest moments of music, sexuality, and learning as gifts.
Our narrator ponders that, “Perhaps, somewhere, humanity is flourishing under the stars, unaware that a daughter of its blood is ending her days in silence. There is nothing we can do about it.” With this relinquishing statement, Harpman starkly reminds readers that we do exist amongst humanity, under the stars, and we ought to grasp that fate.
Book cover of ‘I Who Have Never Known Men’ by Jaqueline Harpman
