
This deeply disturbing novel has a group of women held in an underground bunker, none of whom knew one another before they arrived there and who don’t have any memory as to how they got there. Our narrator is the youngest, all the others were adult when put in the cage and have memories of life before, working, having children, living normal lives, but the unnamed narrator was a small child when incarcerated and this is all she knows.
There were forty of us living in that big underground room where no one could hide from the others. At five-metre intervals, columns supported the vaulted ceiling and bars separated our living area from the walls, leaving a wide passage all around for the guards’ relentless pacing up and down. No one ever escaped scrutiny and we were used to answering the call of nature in front of one another. At first – so they told me, my memories didn’t go back that far – the women were most put out, they thought of forming a human wall to screen the woman relieving herself, but the guards prohibited it, because no woman was to be shielded from view.
Other things were also forbidden such as physical contact, the women may not touch each other, suicide or self-harming were also banned, any attempt at escaping from the relentless monotony of their existence in the cage by killing or injuring themselves would instantly cause the guards to crack their whips close to the prisoners. The guards never entered the cage or spoke to the women even in the early days when they would cry out to try to find out what had happened to them and why they were there. Apart from constantly watching the women, the guards delivered the food, meat and vegetables with occasional pasta, which had to be boiled as that was the only means of cooking available. The knives the women needed to prepare the vegetables were blunted, they were not allowed to sharpen them in case they were used to injure and they had to be returned after use. The cage is large enough for the tables for food preparation, two toilets, a water supply and on the remaining floor just enough room to spread out forty mattresses for the women to sleep on, these would then be stacked to make something to sit on during the ‘day’. It is clearly costing somebody a lot of money to supply electricity and food and sometimes scraps of material to repair or fashion rudimentary tunics for clothing and pay for the constant guards over the dozen or so years the women have been held here but why?
Around a third of the way through the book everything changes. During the time of food serving a siren suddenly goes off and the guards simply run away leaving the keys in the serving hatch lock in their panic to get away. When the women realise they are alone the narrator, known only as ‘the child’ although by now she is probably fifteen years old, retrieves the keys and manages to unlock the main door to the cage. Exploring the rest of the bunker reveals a vast food store, enough for many years, but no guards or indeed much in the way of indication that they had ever been there. A staircase rises to a cabin and then to the outside. It has taken eleven minutes from the siren to the first women setting foot on the surface but there is no sign of the guards, where are they and how have they vanished from a vast open plain so quickly?
They decide to explore to find anyone else who might be there and eventually after four weeks they discover another cabin with stairs down. This also has the same layout as their prison with a cage but this time with forty corpses as these women had not been so fortunate when the guards left them. Eventually they come across hundreds of similar bunkers all with forty or maybe slightly fewer dead prisoners always unisex sometimes female sometimes male, a huge store of food and no guards. Just what was going on and where are they, is this even Earth?
The development of the relationships between the women is one of the driving themes of the book along with the increasing authority of ‘the child’ as she ages and develops useful skills. There is also the mystery as to what is going on. Jacqueline Harpman was born in Belgium in 1929 and as part of a Jewish family escaped to Morocco when the Nazis invaded at the start of WWII and the isolation of that time possibly influenced the isolation of the women. Returning to Belgium after the war she eventually trained as a psychoanalyst and this knowledge of how the mind works can be seen throughout the novel. ‘Moi qui n’ai pas connu les hommes’ published in 1995 was her tenth novel and the first to be translated into English, although it didn’t achieve major success in English until being reprinted in 2022 with a literal translation of its title rather than ‘Mistress of Silence’ which it was called in 1997. I loved this short book and cannot recommend it enough.








