I Who Have Never Known Men

I Who Have Never Known Men is a speculative fiction novel by Belgian author Jacqueline Harpman. It was first published in French as Moi qui n’ai pas connu les hommes in 1995. Translated into English by Ros Schwartz, the book was released in 1997 as The Mistress of Silence before assuming a more direct translation of its French title. In the novel, 39 women and a young girl are locked in an underground cage until their captors disappear and they escape into a desolate, unfamiliar world, where they are the only survivors. Narrated from the perspective of the youngest prisoner, the work explores the themes of Humanity and Interconnectedness, The Intrinsic Value of Thinking and Knowledge, and Curiosity Versus Expectations.

This guide refers to the 1997 hardback edition published by Seven Stories Press.

Content Warning: The source material features suicide, assisted suicide, and suicidal ideation as well as human captivity.

Plot Summary

From the unnamed narrator’s earliest memory, she is imprisoned underground with 39 women, always watched by three guards. She never knew her name. Her companions call her “the child.” She reaches pre-pubescence but never develops further or has a period, and the women refuse to educate her about her body or sex because they say there is no use: She will never be with a man.

Angry at the women, the narrator turns inward. She develops elaborate fantasies about embracing the youngest guard, and she experiences erotic pleasure, which she calls “eruptions.” However, she also simply enjoys thinking critically about such things as power and secrets. When she ponders the reason for her imprisonment, it sparks a lifelong quest for an explanation.

The narrator asks Anthea, the most receptive woman, for information. Although Anthea says it is pointless to discuss the past, she divulges that no one knows why they are there or what happened to everyone else. She also explains that the women seem distant because the guards never allowed anyone to touch or comfort the child.

Afterward, the narrator is upset and cannot sleep. Instinctively, she throws herself into the arms of the woman next to her, and a guard’s whip cracks overhead. The narrator recoils, and from that moment, both feelings and touch repel her.

The narrator starts counting her heartbeats to measure time and becomes a human clock. This allows the women to follow a 24-hour day, despite imposed bedtimes and food deliveries. The prisoners regain a sense of rebellion and humanity, and the narrator gains inclusion in the group.

One day, as a guard begins to open a lock on the cage, a loud siren wails. The guards run out of the bunker, leaving the keys and allowing the women to escape. The narrator runs up the steps toward the outside world, excited about everything she can discover. The women, however, are terrified, as they do not recognize the vast, empty plain. They are not even sure they are on Earth.

Anthea and the narrator search the guards’ quarters, where they find tools, supplies, canned goods, and a freezer full of meat. The women camp at a nearby river and spend days bathing and eating. They are comfortable, but the eldest and most respected woman, Dorothy, soon decides the group needs answers and should explore.

Hoping for signs of civilization, the group treks for 26 days but sees only more wilderness. Then, they spot a cabin identical to the one atop their prison. Anthea, Dorothy, and the narrator descend the stairs to find a cage full of female corpses, prisoners who could not escape when the guards disappeared. After paying their respects, the women gather supplies from the bunker and leave. Soon, they find another cabin, one with a cage full of dead men. For two years, they travel from one mass grave to another.

Dorothy becomes ill but refuses to quit searching for information, so the women create a stretcher and carry her until she dies. When another woman, Mary-Jane, becomes sick and pained, the group stops. They set up camp near a bunker, where Mary-Jane hangs herself in the middle of the night.

Instead of exploring onward, the women build a village and settle down. They live off food from a nearby bunker, and life becomes routine bound. The narrator, however, gets restless, wanting to explore and learn everything that she can.

Many of the women pair into couples, which puzzles the narrator. Anthea explains the women’s physical relationships, confusing the narrator even more about the role of men. The narrator demands to know everything she can, regardless of its utility. Anthea then explains anatomy and reproduction in detail. Afterward, the narrator explores herself for erogeneity but determines that her underdeveloped body is incapable of physical stimulation.

As the women age and more are dying, Anthea is asked to end another’s suffering—by stabbing her in the heart. The request torments Anthea. She wants to ease others’ pain but cannot bring herself to kill. The narrator says she can do it, as she lacks the emotions that the other women have, and Anthea teaches her where to strike. Over the years, the narrator kills many suffering companions.

Anthea’s death is the most significant to the narrator, who—despite her dislike of contact—agrees to hold Anthea as she passes. Then, only four women remain in the village. The narrator believes many of her companions died of despair. Indeed, the last, Laura, seems to have a healthy body but an unwilling spirit.

After Laura’s death, the narrator plans to explore for the rest of her life. Although excited to be unincumbered, she has vague dreams of happily enjoying others’ company. She also has a dream about being around men, and she again experiences an “eruption,” her term for an orgasm. She briefly pities her solitude and asexuality, but her curiosity revives her spirit.

After two years of exploring alone, she discovers an underground residence, a luxurious bunker with a kitchen, bathroom, bed, and bookshelf. She continues to explore but makes that her home base. She reads every book, investigates every object, and still has no information about her world or imprisonment.

By her mid-sixties, she loses her drive for exploration and desperately desires companionship. She also becomes ill and experiences great pain. Her symptoms resemble Mary-Jane’s, so the narrator suspects she has cancer in her reproductive organs. She finds it strange to be harmed by a bodily system that was always silent. She sharpens a knife, and when she finishes writing her life story, she plans to stab her own heart.