If you walked into a bookstore in the early 2000s and picked up a copy of Under the Skin by Michel Faber, you probably thought you were getting a standard sci-fi thriller. The cover was usually moody. The premise sounded like a B-movie: a woman drives around the Scottish Highlands picking up hitchhikers. But then you start reading. Honestly, it’s not really about the "alien" stuff, at least not in the way Independence Day is. It’s a book about how we treat bodies. It's about corporate greed. It’s about that specific, lonely feeling of being a cog in a machine that doesn't care if you live or die.
Isserley is the protagonist. She’s had her body mutilated to look human. She drives a red Toyota Corolla. She's looking for "big" men—hitchhikers with plenty of muscle mass. Why? Because to her employers back home, these men are just meat. They are "voddsel."
The horrifying reality of the voddsel
Faber doesn't give you the "twist" right away. He lets you sit in Isserley’s head for a long time first. You feel her back pain. You feel the way her scars pull when she moves. It’s visceral. When the realization finally hits that she is basically a glorified farmhand harvesting humans for an intergalactic delicacy, it doesn't feel like a "gotcha" moment. It feels like a tragedy.
Most people who talk about Under the Skin by Michel Faber focus on the vegan subtext. It’s hard to miss. The way the humans are processed—tongues cut out, fattened up, kept in underground pens—mimics industrial factory farming perfectly. But Faber is doing something deeper than just a "meat is murder" PSA. He’s looking at class.
Isserley isn't a villain. She’s an employee. Back on her home planet, the air is unbreathable and the elite live in luxury while people like her work in the "estates," which are essentially underground slums. She took this job—this horrific, body-destroying job—just to see the sky. It’s a dark mirror of our own world. How many people do jobs they hate, or jobs that actively harm others, just because the alternative is starvation? It’s a heavy question for a book about "aliens."
💡 You might also like: Kiss My Eyes and Lay Me to Sleep: The Dark Folklore of a Viral Lullaby
Why the 2013 movie is a different beast entirely
You’ve probably seen the Jonathan Glazer film starring Scarlett Johansson. It’s a masterpiece, sure, but it’s almost nothing like the book. The movie is an exercise in mood and visuals. It strips away the dialogue. It strips away the corporate backstory. In the film, the "alien" is an observer.
In the novel, Isserley is a participant. She has opinions. She has a biting, cynical wit. She looks at the Scottish landscape with a mix of awe and resentment. If you've only seen the movie, you're missing the most important part of the story: the internal struggle of a being who is starting to realize that her "prey" might actually have souls.
The body horror of being "human"
One of the most unsettling things about Under the Skin by Michel Faber is how he describes Isserley’s physical state. To look like a human woman, she had to undergo agonizing surgeries. Her legs were broken and reset. Her breasts are implants that hurt. Her spine is a mess.
Faber uses this to comment on the male gaze and beauty standards. Isserley uses her "attractiveness" as a trap, but she hates her body. She finds human anatomy repulsive. She thinks we look like weird, hairless monkeys. There is a specific kind of irony in the fact that she has to become "beautiful" by human standards to perform a job that involves butchering those same humans.
📖 Related: Kate Moss Family Guy: What Most People Get Wrong About That Cutaway
It’s gross. It’s painful. It’s brilliant.
Breaking down the corporate satire
People forget that a huge chunk of the book takes place at the farm, which is run like a middle-management nightmare. There’s a character named Enis who represents the clueless, entitled upper class of her planet. He visits the farm like he’s on a "poverty safari." He doesn't understand the work. He doesn't understand the pain. He just wants to see how the "delicacy" is made.
Faber’s writing here is sharp. He captures that specific corporate language where "murder" becomes "processing" and "torture" becomes "efficiency." This is why the book still resonates today. In an era of gig-economy exploitation and faceless corporations, Isserley’s plight feels uncomfortably familiar. She’s just a "contractor" trying to earn her retirement.
What we get wrong about the ending
I won't spoil the very last page, but it’s not the explosive action sequence you’d expect from a sci-fi novel. It’s quiet. It’s about atoms. It’s about returning to the universe.
👉 See also: Blink-182 Mark Hoppus: What Most People Get Wrong About His 2026 Comeback
A lot of readers find the ending depressing. I get that. But honestly, it’s sort of beautiful. Isserley spent the whole book trapped—trapped in a suit of skin, trapped in a job she hated, trapped on a planet that wasn't hers. The ending is the first time she’s actually free.
Essential takeaways for new readers
If you’re picking this up for the first time, keep a few things in mind. First, don't expect a fast-paced thriller. It’s a slow burn. Second, pay attention to the descriptions of the landscape. Faber lives in Scotland, and his love/hate relationship with the Highlands bleeds through every page. The fog isn't just weather; it's a character.
- The "Voddsel" perspective: Notice how the humans are never given names by the aliens. They are just "specimens."
- The physical toll: Track how often Isserley mentions her medication. It’s a reminder that her "humanity" is a constant, painful performance.
- The moral pivot: Look for the moment Isserley stops seeing the hitchhikers as animals and starts seeing them as individuals. It’s subtle.
Practical ways to engage with Faber’s work
If this book ruined your life (in a good way), you shouldn't stop there. Michel Faber is a shapeshifter. He doesn't write the same book twice.
- Read The Crimson Petal and the White. It’s a massive Victorian pastiche. It couldn't be more different from Under the Skin, but it deals with similar themes of the female body and social class.
- Watch the documentary "The Corporation." If the farm sequences in the book bothered you, this will show you the real-world logic that inspired them.
- Explore the Scottish Highlands. If you ever drive the A9, you’ll never look at a hitchhiker—or a red Toyota—the same way again.
Under the Skin by Michel Faber remains a landmark of 21st-century literature because it refuses to be just one thing. It’s a horror story. It’s a socio-political critique. It’s a heartbreaking character study. Mostly, though, it’s a reminder that empathy is the only thing that keeps us from being "voddsel" ourselves.
To get the most out of your reading, focus on the "Aml Vess" chapters toward the middle of the book. This is where the political structure of the alien world is most clearly laid out, providing the necessary context for Isserley’s desperation. If you've struggled with the book's pacing before, try listening to the audiobook; the narrator's ability to handle Isserley's detached, weary tone makes the long drives through the Highlands feel much more immersive. Once finished, compare the book's depiction of the "farm" to the real-world history of the Highland Clearances to see how Faber weaves Scottish history into his alien narrative.