Under the Skin

Hugely muscular hitchhikers are picked up by Isserley. She herself is little, looking up over the driving wheel like a child. She wears the biggest corrective glasses anybody has ever seen, yet she has an amazing face. Her posture raises the possibility of a spinal issue. Maybe implants, since her breasts are flawless. She is both fragile and menacing, and somehow sensual but also hideous. Her hitchhikers are a diverse group of individuals, including traveling postgraduates, bullies, philosophers, and trailer trash. However, Isserley is solely concerned with their family status and level of muscle. The only thing left to consider is how long she can put up with her bodily and spiritual suffering and their chat. Some have compared Michel Faber's writing to a cross between Franz Kafka and Roald Dahl, or likened it to Somerset Maugham hanging out with Ian McEwan. Under the Skin is a heart-pounding journey into perilous territory—our own moral inclinations and the limits of compassion—that is both horrific and sympathetic at the same time.