I Who Have Nev­er Known Men, writ­ten by Jacque­line Harp­man and trans­lat­ed by Roz Schwartz, was pub­lished by Tran­sit Books in 2022 and achieved cult sta­tus. Now, from the same author and trans­la­tor, comes We Were For­bid­den, a col­lec­tion of short sto­ries and novel­las. The themes and style of this col­lec­tion will be famil­iar to fans of I Who Have Nev­er Known Men; it explores iso­la­tion in com­mu­ni­ty, the mean­ing of des­o­la­tion, and the pass­ing of time dur­ing moments of pure sur­vival. Harpman’s style in trans­la­tion pro­vides a deep sense of pres­ence and immer­sion, sup­port­ed by a strik­ing, con­sis­tent clar­i­ty and simplicity.

“The Ardennes For­est” fol­lows a name­less sol­dier whose troop has been sent on a mis­sion dur­ing an unknown war to wan­der The Ardennes For­est until they are called back — when, or why, or how they will be con­tact­ed, and what will be required of them once called upon, remains unclear (per­haps for­got­ten). As they wan­der, they grow old, walk out of their dete­ri­o­rat­ing com­bat boots and wear through their already thread-bare uni­forms. It is only when they crest a hill to dis­cov­er an aban­doned town that they are remind­ed of their human­i­ty com­mu­ni­ty. This moment of reprieve caus­es the troop to con­front the soci­ety they have begun to for­get, yet are des­tined to pro­tect. The nar­ra­tor leads with a voice of some­one com­mit­ted to their mis­sion, resigned yet persistent.

Next, in ​“The Out­cast,” Schwartz offers brief bio­graph­i­cal con­text: Jacquline Harp­man, born in Brus­sels, took refuge in Moroc­co as a teenag­er with her fam­i­ly dur­ing World War II. The sto­ry is auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal, a reflec­tion on the ado­les­cent over­whelm of right and wrong, rea­son and emo­tion, the depth and con­fu­sion of friend­ship on a back­drop of destruc­tion. Drawn to her class­mate Hen­ri­ette Ser­ra­no as a friend, ene­my, and poten­tial intel­lec­tu­al equal, Harp­man describes a dis­agree­ment with Hen­ri­ette over a poem by Charles Péguy regard­ing the inher­ent hon­or of dying for one’s coun­try. This trig­gers a larg­er con­flict with her class­mates and teach­ers, through which Harp­man ven­tures to under­stand her own mind. While auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal, the first-per­son nar­ra­tive draws par­al­lels in style to Harpman’s oth­er works. It places the read­er firm­ly with­in Harpman’s ado­les­cent mind while pro­vid­ing sat­is­fy­ing glimpses of adult hindsight.

“The Broom Clos­et” is per­haps the most diver­gent sto­ry in the col­lec­tion with the nar­ra­tion seam­less­ly flow­ing between the per­spec­tive of an unnamed writer and her char­ac­ters. The writer enters the din­ing car of a train and is trans­port­ed to the 1920s where she comes to embody the char­ac­ter of Hort­ense d’Afflighem. The writer makes deci­sions for her char­ac­ters and sto­ry in real time, find­ing inspi­ra­tion in her envi­ron­ment and by fol­low­ing the instincts that her char­ac­ters begin to express. Putting the read­er in the mind of the writer, who puts her­self in the mind of her char­ac­ters, the sto­ry deep­ens the reader’s under­stand­ing of Harpman’s work and style.