Jacqueline Harpman

"Je me rendais parfaitement compte que je n'avais fait qu'ajouter une question aux autres, mais elle était nouvelle, et cela, dans le monde insensé où je vivais, où je vis toujours, c'était le bonheur", dit l'énigmatique narratrice de Moi qui n'ai pas connu les hommes. A l'issue de quelle obscure catastrophe quarante femmes se trouvent-elles encagées dans une cave, sous la surveillance muette de gardiens impassibles ? Quelles lois régissent leur inéluctable survie, au rythme inintelligible de nuits et de jours artificiels, tandis qu'elles perdent peu à peu le souvenir de leur passé ? Quel hasard ou quel dessein ont jeté la narratrice encore enfant parmi ces adultes ? Elle est la seule à ne rien savoir, à ne rien se rappeler : c'est pourtant elle qui va réinventer le temps, la pensée le désir. Donc la révolte, qui restitue l'estime de soi à l'esclave. La mécanique narrative de ce superbe "thriller logique" est souveraine et soulève l'émotion tant on s'identifie à cette quête obstinée dont l'objet ultime, au coeur d'un mystérieux désert et d'une solitude sans recours, pourrait bien être l'accès à la condition humaine.

MOI QUI N'AI PAS CONNU LES HOMMES

Bekki

Obviously, I have no way of knowing how old I was. 

The others had been adult for a long time whereas I appeared to be prepubescent.

But my development stopped there: I started to get hair under my arms and on my pubes, my breasts grew a little, and then everything came to a halt. 

The woman told me I was lucky, that I wouldn't have to bother of bleeding and the precautions to be taken so as not to stain the mattresses. 

I'd be spared the tedious monthly task of washing out the tags they had to jam between their legs as best as they could, by squeezing together their thigh muscles, since they had nothing to hold them in place, and I wouldn't have to suffer stomach cramps like so many adolescent girls. 

But I didn't believe them: they nearly all menstruated, and how can you feel privileged not to have something that everyone has? 

I went over to Anthea who had always been the least hostile towards me. 

"Well, have you come to tell me your secret!"

"Don't be as stupid as the others" I said. "Look at them. They're pretending, they behave as though they still have some control over their lives and make momentous decisions about which vegetable to cook first. What are we doing here?"

"We can't talk about that either! You spend your time kidding yourself that you know things and you're using me, who doesn't know a thing, to convince yourself of your superiority! No one has any idea why we are being so carefully guarded and you're afraid to think about it!"

I could see they were giving me something very precious, and my lack of enthusiasm bothered me.

I drew aside the coarse, stiff fabric, went through and let it fall back into place. 

At one I had a curious expression of strangeness. My heart thumped. I felt light-headed. 

I glanced around: I could only see the thorny branches and the folds of the brown-coloured blankets that created the screen between the others and myself. I shivered. 

But I soon understood: this was the first time that I'd ever found myself alone. No woman could see me, and I couldn't see any of them. 

I found that very disturbing. I stood there at loss, contemplating my situation.

I discovered physical solitude, something so ordinary for all the others, but which I had never experienced. It immediately appealed to me. 

When the sun went down, Ross began to sing. 

I was amazed. I'd never heard music before, I was barely aware of it's existence. 

"Look how beautiful the sky is!" Annabelle exclaimed, and everyone turned to watch the sunset. 

The few cries or delight soon died away, faced with the unexpected splendor of the colours. 

I didn't recognise them, I'd never seen those shades of pink and mauve, only the grey of the bunker. 

Long trails of purple tingled with violet...some clouds had a greenish hue, shot through with golden light.

The sign took my breath away and I was about to question Anthea when rose's voice soared up, clear and strong, breaking the silence. 

I felt a sort of tremor, like a distant echo of the eruption, but it lasted longer and brought tears to my eyes. 

As she talked, she kept saying: "But it's all so ordinary, it's the same as everyone else."

As if she wasn't aware that for me, nothing was ordinary, since nothing had ever happened to me. 

I told myself that I'd been hypocritical and, since I had no one to lie to, I discovered that you can lie to yourself, which felt very strange. 

Was I missing companionship more than I thought and making myself into another, a witness, if only to deceive her? 

I pondered this thought for a long time, but I couldn't see how to develop it further.

I was as much a prisoner outside this empty land as I had been in the cage during my early years.

I acquired a perfectly useless knowledge, but I enjoyed it.

I felt as if I had embellished my mind and that made me think of jewels, those objects which women used to adorn their beauty, in the days when beauty had a purpose. 

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