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So yeah, what did I read... I'm both satisfied and not satisfied, so basically I'm just confused. On the one hand, I'm not a plot reader, so I really appreciated the psychological aspect of this novel, the deep dive into the character's inner world. On the other hand, I need lore - and lore is what I didn't get.

"I Who Have Never Known Men" is an exploration of isolation more than anything. It's coined as dystopia, but I'm reluctant to call it that. Because the story could have been placed in any setting and any time period, real or imaginary, with the same outcome. From the first page, we are confronted with a nameless protagonist, a young girl, trapped in a cage alongside 39 other women, watched over by silent guards. Why are they there? Is this an experiment? A prison? A forgotten remnant of some apocalyptic event?

Then, just as abruptly as the premise is established, the guards disappear. Are they dead? Gone? Abandoned their post? It doesn’t matter—what follows is a desperate attempt at survival in a desolate world. Jacqueline Harpman refuses to give clear answers, leaving us to piece together the world from fragments, though the more we learn, the more disturbing it becomes.

One of the author's most puzzling choices is the lack of chapters. This structure forces almost an unbroken reading experience, which works because of the book's short length. But the structure is also a mirror of the protagonist’s existence, where time flows without clear divisions other than the almost seamless change of seasons, and life continues without guidance or interruptions. It’s frustrating at times, but it works, creating an atmosphere of endless uncertainty.

Just before I started reading this book, I went to a bookclub where we discussed Kazuo Ishiguro's "Never Let Me Go", a book I read last year and which I didn't particularly resonate with. The two novels are similar in that they both follow protagonists who start as children and have no model for expressing emotion, despite being raised among adults. Their emotional growth is stunted and whatever they feel - if they feel anything at all -, they cannot express. But unlike Ishiguro’s restrained and emotionally distant characters, Harpman’s Child, while unfamiliar with traditional human relationships, not only experiences profound feelings of curiosity, frustration, unbearable loneliness, but is capable of making me, as a reader, feel them as well.

The entire book is a mystery. We, as readers, are called upon to decipher everything about the world, the women, the protagonist's past, piece by piece, in search of an answer and in search of hope. Every now and then, the Child would say something that would hint to a certain future, but we don't want to believe her, as it would be too horrific. I feel that these snippets from the future stripped some of the tension from the narrative, by giving us too much too soon, but still, when the ending came, it was distressful, to say the least.

I have so many theories and even more questions. This is not the kind of novel that packs everything neatly with a bow. But it is one of the best psychological studies on loneliness I have ever encountered. To be alone, truly alone, with no one to share a single word with, is a fate few books explore as deeply as this one.