Jacqueline HarpmanRecensioner
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I Who Have Never Known Men av Jacqueline Harpman
When it comes to bleak dystopia, it is a genre that I am always attracted to, but usually leaves me frustrated. In that respect, this book was at the same level of uneasiness it caused me during reading as Oryx and Crake, but the concept in this one is muddled and there is less to hold onto.
I went into this knowing not to expect much of a plot or world-building. It wasn't really a spoiler as this is a novel of ideas. But, I felt a little bit let down. This ended up not being a feminist novel. The title was somewhat misleading in that respect even if it is factual.
On a more general level, it was only partially satisfying as a novel about what it means to be human. The main character remains strangely emotionally detached from the rest of the group, even though she seems to like one of the women who was a sort of mentor to her. It is impossible not to draw parallels with some traumatizing historical events and expect that such a level of trauma would inspire a much stronger emotional connection. But, I don't think the point of this novel is to be "realistic", it is just too abstract for that to matter. But for that level of abstraction, I personally expect a better concept than what we get from this novel.
It was difficult to believe it was written by a girl raised in a cage who could barely read and write, esp. since the prose is so good. But, overall this is an interesting novel that leaves you frustrated and with a lot to think about. It just isn't as polished as I wanted it to be.
I feel so bad for not loving this as much as I though I would. This is a really interesting book that I fully expected to be a 5 star read given that on paper, it contains everything that I generally love in a book despite it being set in a dystopian time period. For a piece of speculative fiction, I don't feel like I necessarily took any new insights away from the story. I favor reading longer books because it takes a lot for me to be invested in characters, so maybe this being just over 200 pages inhibited the way I was able to feel connected to the story. I've seen so many people say that this is a book that will stick with them for a long time, but ultimately I found it quite forgettable.
Philosophical, not really dystopian, although it has been described as such. Published in French in 1995.
A colleague brought it to my attention, she was about to start it herself. A new to me, Belgian author, I think only one other of her works in English.
stunning. bleak yet beautiful. about what it means to be human.
I would have given it more but the mood, and ending of this story is definitely not one I'd call happy - a bit too devastating for me to be a 5 star but so well done.
Belgian psychoanalyst and author Jacqueline Harpman (1929-2012) wrote over fifteen novels and won several literary prizes. I confess with some shame that I had never heard of her. Perhaps I might be forgiven considering the dearth of English translations of her works. Harpman’s 1995 novel Moi Qui N’ai Pas Connu les Hommes was the first to be translated into English (originally with the title Mistress of Silence) and, although I stand to be corrected, I believe that of her other novels, only the Prix Medicis prize-winner "Orlanda" is also available in English. Mistress of Silence has now been reissued by Vintage Books with the title I Who Have Never Known Men, in the translation by Ros Schwartz, a veteran translator from the French who was made a Chevalier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres in 2009.
The novel’s premise is simple: in an undefined period in the near future, we meet forty women who are kept prisoners in a cage in an underground bunker, guarded by a group of armed men, and supplied with just the basic necessities of modern life – electricity, food, water and medication. Eventually, the women manage to escape, only to find themselves roaming what seems to be an uninhabited, post-apocalyptic alien world. The older women hazily but fondly recall a different “normality”, one in which they went around the daily business of life – working, falling in love, raising families. The unnamed narrator is a teenager who has only known life in the bunker. She has no other recollections and is aware that she will never share the experiences which the other women wax nostalgic about. She tries to learn about the past, only to realise that it will serve her no purpose in this strange environment where she will “never know men”.
This new edition of the novel is very clearly meant to capitalise on the current interest in feminist dystopian fiction and it is surely no coincidence that it features a new introduction by Sophie Mackintosh, author of [b:The Water Cure|39335566|The Water Cure|Sophie Mackintosh|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1521604165l/39335566._SY75_.jpg|56832986]. Female prisoners guarded by men, escaping to form a utopia in which they manage to survive without the opposite sex… it certainly is a plot which invites a feminist reading. Yet, as Mackintosh perceptively notes, the novel “is not necessarily extolling this kind of existence” and might even be suggesting that “this settling is the downfall of the women”. Perhaps it’s fairer to say that rather than seeking to ponder “what it means to be a woman” or, for that matter, “a man”, Harpman is more interested to explore what it is that makes us “human”. The older women have memories of life on Earth to remind them of their humanity – the narrator is, on the other hand, a blank slate, with no preconceived ‘social constructs’ apart from what she has vaguely gleaned from her fellow prisoners. She has to discover anew the meaning of an existence to which there appears to be no mapped-out purpose.
This novel raises striking philosophical concepts and provides much food for thought. Depending on the reader’s tastes, this could also be its weakness. In fact, this is, in my view, an example of a “novel as thought experiment”. We are given just enough narrative on which to append philosophical discourse. Interesting as that is, anyone looking for page-turning thrills will likely be disappointed. On my part, I felt short-changed by the lack of cogent explanations behind several basic elements of the plot. I like some ambiguity in a plot, but this novel possibly leaves too much to one’s imagination.
Yet, there’s no escaping the effectiveness of the novel’s bleak imagery, and I have this suspicion that it will remain with me for a long time.
https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2019/04/i-who-have-never-known-men.html
The main character has no name, and very little in the way of human feelings, and the setting is bleak and unchanging, so of course this was never going to be a cheerful novella. However, I really struggled to get through the story - I wanted answers about the cabins and the siren, not meditations on society and humanity. And I could certainly have done without the bleating about men making the world go around - ‘Men mean you are alive, child. What are we, without a future, without children? The last links in a broken chain' - even if the women prove that sisters are doing it for themselves. The narrator was intriguing and (worryingly) sympathetic to start with - 'Since I barely venture outside these days, I spend a lot of time in one of the armchairs, rereading the books' - but her practical and rather detached personality quickly became rather repellent. And apart from the occasional discovery - the other cabins, a bus, an underground bunker - she and other women just walk and talk. Like a dystopian Tenko.
A dark yet thoughtful story - if you're in the right mood! I don't think I was, sadly.
Belgian psychoanalyst and author Jacqueline Harpman (1929-2012) wrote over fifteen novels and won several literary prizes. I confess with some shame that I had never heard of her. Perhaps I might be forgiven considering the dearth of English translations of her works. Harpman’s 1995 novel Moi Qui N’ai Pas Connu les Hommes was the first to be translated into English (originally with the title Mistress of Silence) and, although I stand to be corrected, I believe that of her other novels, only the Prix Medicis prize-winner "Orlanda" is also available in English. Mistress of Silence has now been reissued by Vintage Books with the title I Who Have Never Known Men, in the translation by Ros Schwartz, a veteran translator from the French who was made a Chevalier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres in 2009.
The novel’s premise is simple: in an undefined period in the near future, we meet forty women who are kept prisoners in a cage in an underground bunker, guarded by a group of armed men, and supplied with just the basic necessities of modern life – electricity, food, water and medication. Eventually, the women manage to escape, only to find themselves roaming what seems to be an uninhabited, post-apocalyptic alien world. The older women hazily but fondly recall a different “normality”, one in which they went around the daily business of life – working, falling in love, raising families. The unnamed narrator is a teenager who has only known life in the bunker. She has no other recollections and is aware that she will never share the experiences which the other women wax nostalgic about. She tries to learn about the past, only to realise that it will serve her no purpose in this strange environment where she will “never know men”.
This new edition of the novel is very clearly meant to capitalise on the current interest in feminist dystopian fiction and it is surely no coincidence that it features a new introduction by Sophie Mackintosh, author of [b:The Water Cure|39335566|The Water Cure|Sophie Mackintosh|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1521604165l/39335566._SY75_.jpg|56832986]. Female prisoners guarded by men, escaping to form a utopia in which they manage to survive without the opposite sex… it certainly is a plot which invites a feminist reading. Yet, as Mackintosh perceptively notes, the novel “is not necessarily extolling this kind of existence” and might even be suggesting that “this settling is the downfall of the women”. Perhaps it’s fairer to say that rather than seeking to ponder “what it means to be a woman” or, for that matter, “a man”, Harpman is more interested to explore what it is that makes us “human”. The older women have memories of life on Earth to remind them of their humanity – the narrator is, on the other hand, a blank slate, with no preconceived ‘social constructs’ apart from what she has vaguely gleaned from her fellow prisoners. She has to discover anew the meaning of an existence to which there appears to be no mapped-out purpose.
This novel raises striking philosophical concepts and provides much food for thought. Depending on the reader’s tastes, this could also be its weakness. In fact, this is, in my view, an example of a “novel as thought experiment”. We are given just enough narrative on which to append philosophical discourse. Interesting as that is, anyone looking for page-turning thrills will likely be disappointed. On my part, I felt short-changed by the lack of cogent explanations behind several basic elements of the plot. I like some ambiguity in a plot, but this novel possibly leaves too much to one’s imagination.
Yet, there’s no escaping the effectiveness of the novel’s bleak imagery, and I have this suspicion that it will remain with me for a long time.
https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2019/04/i-who-have-never-known-men.html
Yes, I found a Dystopian novel I love more than 1984 and The Handmaid’s Tale.
Forty women live in a prison cell. The world as we know it doesn’t exist anymore. People have been imprisoned and the guards are watching them non-stop. How did the women find themselves there? Why? Where are they? What destroyed every social structure we have taken for granted? Is this Earth or another planet? No one can answer these questions and the days pass in terror and silence. The youngest woman is the one that tries to understand, her spirit still unbroken.
The women are using their hair as thread because every tool is forbidden. No one can console a crying child because they aren’t allowed to touch each other. You are not allowed to stay awake when sleep refuses to come. There is no 24-hour day. No religion to give you comfort. You can’t feel the wind or the rain. You can’t see the moon and the sun. You have to urinate and defecate in public. You are not allowed to kill yourself.
‘’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. Perhaps, somewhere, humanity is flourishing under the stars, unaware that a daughter of its blood is ending her days in silence.’’
Harpman’s writing excels when the women are suddenly free. And this is not a spoiler because the heart of the story can be found after this pivotal moment. It is exactly then that everything becomes more frightening, when the struggle for survival in an unknown world begins. The youngest woman has to learn all there is to know about her body, language, everything the rest of the women can recall from a life wrapped in mists, long and forgotten. But what happens when it is your spirit, not your body that needs nourishment?
The prose is exquisite, the dialogue is sparse, poetic and cryptic. There is a tranquility and a subtlety that reminded of The Handmaid’s Tale and even the hardest moments are described almost melancholically. There is no vulgarity, no shock for the sake of it. We often use the words ‘’raw’’ and ‘’haunting’’ and they are absolutely suitable to characterize this novel. Don’t look for pseudo-feministic messages or divisions between the two sexes, this isn’t such a story. This is about freedom and survival and hope and these notions weren’t created exclusively for women or men. In that sense, the title is a tiny bit unsuccessful.
I would be negligent if I overlooked the beautiful and poignant introduction by Sophia Mackintosh. For me, this novel is equal to The Handmaid’s Tale. Possibly even better I really love Atwood’s classic. There are so many intense moments and such a rich narrative of a community populated only by women while Death is all around. This novel made me experience feelings that no other dystopian novel ever did. I would compare it to Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel and Into the Forest by Jean Hegland in terms of atmosphere and tone. I sincerely hope that it will become more appreciated with the new paperback release because most of us weren’t even aware of its existence. Perhaps its themes aren’t loud enough or feminist enough to follow the new cultural reality and become a TV-series of dubious quality but it is a masterpiece. The final pages verify it.
‘’All of a sudden, I found myself at the top. I was in what we later called a cabin, three walls and a door, also open, the plain spreading out before me. I bounded forward and looked. It was the world.’’
Many thanks to Penguin Random House UK and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com
In hoeverre is een mens wat anderen willen dat hij is? hoeveel van jezelf leeft verdrukt in een hoekje van je ziel?
For example, our narrator has never known anything but the cage she lived in with 39 other women, the handful of male guards who watched them without speaking, and the barren landscape outside. Why then would she only be having orgasms over men? True they are absent or dead men, but that is way more interesting than the fact that they are men! She can only get off on the idea of physical contact, on the carefully elaborated fantasy of a world other than the one she has known, while even embracing her dying friend is a struggle against her fear and disgust of real-world physical contact. That is a super interesting idea to explore rather than some kind of inevitable heteronormativity!
You'll be bored and frustrated and then sad. It does take on an interesting tone though when you find out the author is the child of concentration camp survivors. Plus, a dodgy translation might be to blame for some of the book's woodenness.
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tiffbelinda | 20 andra recensioner | Apr 21, 2011 |
tiffbelinda | 20 andra recensioner | Apr 21, 2011 | Review: I Who Have Never Known Men is this bizarre little introspective book, a relatively straightforward dystopian sci-fi novel that nevertheless reads more like an extended philosophical musing, a book that is quiet and haunting and heartbreaking and frustrating and thought-provoking, all at the same time. The entire novel asks what it really means to be human; where that humanity comes from, and whether it can survive under the most dehumanizing conditions, or in the complete absence of other people. I don't know that the novel ever comes to any firm conclusions on those points, but it does provide a lot of food for thought (especially given its length), and I can see this book working wonderfully well as a discussion starter for a book club or high school lit class.
This book didn't just leave its philosophical questions unanswered; it also never clarified a lot of its plot points. The plot sticks entirely to the narrator's viewpoint, and the readers aren't given any additional information; we never find out why the women were in the cage, or what happened in the past, or even where they are. This is the sort of thing that typically frustrates the hell out of me, but in this case, I found it less annoying than one might think. Perhaps because all of those worldbuilding-type points are peripheral to the point of the novel; it matters less why she's there than what she's going to do about it.
Overall, while I didn't find it a completely satisfying novel, it packs a lot of narrative heft for such a slim book, and it's definitely the type of book that I'm still going to be thinking about for a long time after I've turned the last page. 4 out of 5 stars.
Recommendation: I'm having a hard time categorizing this book into a genre, let alone coming up with read-alikes to suggest. Ursula K. LeGuin, maybe? But I don't think this book is only for sci-fi fans; although the basic premise is technically sci-fi, I think the story and the narrative voice will appeal to a much broader range of readers.
3 fyrefly98 | 20 andra recensioner | Apr 15, 2011 |
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