I Who Have Never Known Men
Ratings236
Average rating4.3
A novel that flourishes in its scarcity. Both in plot and in the style of the prose. The questions heap up and little, if anything, is answered. We are forced to imagine what a world would be like without men - but only after men (we presume) have destroyed all that we have known.
I loved the way this story forced me to reckon with absurdity. The narrator is, in some ways, an caricature of ourselves: one who knowns little to nothing of the world, who has provided no reasons for their existence or any other, but who is bound to the great Us.
There is great hope here, despite how bleak things seem, despite the certainty that nothing will be found. A hope that is resigned, reticent, tenacious, moving.
I love when a book that is not the type of book I would usually enjoy manages to surprise me. Going into this book, if you had told me that there is basically no plot, the mystery is never solved, and there were barely scenes let alone chapters, I absolutely would have assumed I would be cynically dragging my feet through the book, unable to connect and probably complaining a bit. Instead, I found myself nearly immediately clicking with the structure and voice of the story, and detaching from any subconscious expectations for where it would take me.
If my 4am existential crises were put to paper in a creative, yet comprehensible, fashion, I'd imagine it would end up looking something like this – and in one of those 4am moments, when I write things down that I know no one will ever read, I will definitely think of this book.
Unsettling, but superb. I kept hoping that we would get some answers, but the book makes you sit with the realization that we aren’t really in control of anything and often never get answers to our own mysteries and questions. I am really surprised this book hasn't gotten more attention before now.
The most beautifully written ending I have ever witnessed. The prose is immaculate, it's described as ‘cool water' in the introduction, and I agree. It has a smooth, breezy, calm, collected flow to it until the very end when Jacqueline Harpman starts firing on all cylinders. The writing and passion are dialed up to a whole new level and pure emotion emanates from deep within the heart. She saved the best for the last and you feel the ignition, nothing is held back. It's fiery, magnificent and hauntingly poetic. It felt personal, like she did not want to go down without a fight. That as this bleak tale set in a bleak world draws to its eventual end and the spark starts to fizzle out, some aftershocks must be left that will continue to reverberate for years to come.
Perhaps never to go down without a fight is what this book is about, at least that is what I will take away from it. No matter if the world is stripped away of all its familiar warmth and comfort and be basically rendered sterile, we can find a way to look death right in the eye and exhibit beauty even in the direst of circumstances.
It took me a ridiculous amount of time (considering the number of pages) to finish this one because i wanted to pay attention to the writing.
Idk if i loved it, but it's a book that will definitely sit in my mind for a long time.
‘'My memory begins with anger.''
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
It's fine. I just don't have time for it in my reading schedule. I got it from the library after hearing a BookTuber haul video that made it sound appealing.
Read this in one sitting, I was so belligerently hopeful for a twist that I could not put it down. The narration is simple by design, which was a bit grating at first but grew on me as I read.
It checks my “leaves me with more questions than answers” box, which makes it at least 3 stars and I was left wanting more, which makes it 4.
It was a short and thought-provoking book! I can't say I got something incredibly powerful out of it, but perhaps I just didn't... get it?
Finishing this book, I still find myself wandering through the melancholic and bleak world in my head. What is life without connection or purpose? Do we create connection and purpose to soothe the knowing that there really isn't anything out there - or that maybe there is, but we will never know for sure.
This isn't a page turner. I wasn't hanging on by the edge of my seat. A lot is left unknown, but it's stuck with me. The first few pages has some of the most hauntingly poetic descriptions of grief. It took me a while to finish this one. I think that initial bit of grief hit me a bit too hard but the last half I read in one sitting. It's a beautiful story.
Having just finished Kawakami’s Under the Eye of the Big Bird, it is almost shocking just how much better this work is. The premise is stronger, execution is better, ideas explored in a deeper way without bogging you down in the muck of philosophical musings. Feminist speculative SF that appeals way beyond any narrow target demographic. A mystery opened and never fully explained without frustrating the reader. Extremely impressive.
WOW! I really wasn't sure what to expect out of this book, but it moved me in unexpected ways. It's written like a diary, almost. I think that makes it feel deeply personal and raw. I feel like it's a tragically beautiful take on the importance of familiarity, which is not something that I've considered before. With so many questions to still be answered about this story, I'm definitely rethinking the things I know, and I feel even more grateful that I'm able to connect with other people over shared experiences. It's something I never realized I'd been taking for granted, but I'm glad that I was reminded to appreciate it.
6.5/10 - interesting concept, i did feel a bit tapped out tho bc the MC is so emotionally distant. lots of big questions unanswered (but that's probably the whole Point) - although i'm a simple girl so i'd prefer some answers
(I am writing this part shortly after starting it) I spent the first bit having immense Deja Vu, like literally feeling like I have read this before only to realize I have this on my iPad and started it at one point and completely forgot lol ><
(After finishing it) Wow. I will say the afterword help clear up some perspectives I was getting inklings of and really appreciated it. The writing was fantastic, the plot amazing. I really love the perspective that our main character brings and the growth she incurs throughout the story. This is definitely a story I hope to read again in the future! On the favorite shelf it goes.
I would recommend this heavily ><
The most intriguing part of this was that we never really knew what happened or why they were in the cage in the first place. This seals the deal for me because the narration was so peaceful and calm that all you can do is listen.
this one's for my dad because “five stars needs an explanation” and maybe he's right sometimes and this book at least deserves one.
this book is very [trying to find a word that isn't beautiful or chilling or sad or harrowing or wondrous but somehow all those words together]. it's somehow detached and also extremely humanised. i think you can feel the empathy the author has for her characters, for the world that they are made to live in, even if the narrator has a hard time verbalising that empathy herself. even has a hard time understanding that what she feels is empathy, and understanding.
and then at the end, it wraps up inevitably, in a way that makes you want to restart it immediately to re-read the beginning with an understanding you didn't have before.
I am right now trying to decompress from finishing this book. Emotionally, it is like Cormac McCarthy's The Road. It is bleak and harrowing and there is a tension that underlines every moment.
But it is also an intimate journey with a naive stranger, who sees the world and its people differently than we do, and in that difference there is courage and curiosity and determination.
Ultimately this is a book that gnaws at something in the very core of us and leaves us somewhat raw, ready to grow back better.
Maybe it's an unusual end. We never expect in any book!
So it feels disappointing. But then, That world is dark. It's ambiguous. So it's just like that. She is a tiny part of that vast world.
It gives hope as well as disturbs it!
4.5 one of those books that will probably stick with me for a long time. kind of frustrating because all i kept thinking was how did this happen?
‘You are the only one of us who belongs to this country.'
‘No, this country belongs to me. I will be its sole owner and everything here will be mine.'