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Sunday, September 04, 2005
Underneath Faber's Novel
Under the Skin is artfully crafted by Faber to provide the reader with a new perspective of what it is to be human and/or otherwise. The us/other binary is given a totally new twist by a singular subversion of the definition of "human"; instead of "us" (as in the reader, the Homo sapien), the humans have come to be associated with the "other", the "alien", while the "other" have come to assume centrality in the story. This subversion of the us/other binary creates a powerful self-consciousness in the reader while reading the novel, which allows one to gain a new appreciation of the notions of alienation and oppression.
Perhaps the idea of the novel being a call for vegetarianism stems from this subversion. Because we are conscious of being the other, we become better able to empathise with the other. In this case, we are able to associate, albeit in a bizzare way, with the livestock that we rear and consume in our normal world. There is no denying that the captive vodsels bear a sinister resemblance to the chickens/pigs/cows which are kept for the sole purpose of human consumption. Even the way the vodsels are fed - in well-partitioned spaces comfortable enough only for them to feed and fatten up - carries a powerful reminder as to the practical but hardly moral ways we keep and feed our livestocks. The deconstruction and reconstruction of the terms "food" and "consumer" is what succeed in forcing us to reassess our meat-eating habits.
In the centre of this disharmony is the protagonist Isserley. She is the hunter and harvester for her people, working hard to satisfy the cravings of the Elites with this newly found delicacy. (PG: The mere thought of the vodsels/us being served on plates and eaten for food may send shivers down some of the more sensitive ones.) Yet, the unfortunate demands of her work has made her into one of the vodsels/us. This in turn generates a kind of cannabalism in the novel - remember the moment when Isserley is offered a piece of vodsel meat from Hilis and describes it as being "so tender" - which serves again to destablise the reader.
The destabillisation is given a further development by Faber when we consider Isserley's ambiguity. Indeed, Isserley suffers from several layers of oppression. On the one hand, she is human. Yet, on the other, she is physically vodsel-like. This makes her an alien in her own community. Although Isserley looks like a vodsel and even speaks their language, she thinks and behaves differently from the rest of them. This makes her a queer female in the eyes of her many male passengers/victims. This is further juxtaposed and heightened by the lack of female characters in the story.
Isserley suffers also from gender oppression. Despite her present mutilation, Isserley was famed to have been beautiful; this impression, combined with the notion of the other (ie. vodsel) makes her something exotic and desirable, especially to the working males who are hidden underneath the farmstead and who do not see other female humans. Even Amlis concedes, at one point, that Isserley "is beautiful...in her own strange, strange way". This sexual tension is another theme that reverberates throughout the novel.
While Isserley is oppressed, she also oppresses. This is especially evident in her denial of the vodsels' language to Amlis, probably in part to protect his good opinion of her. Nonetheless, this reveals another important theme in the novel - that language lies beneath any form of power struggle. A language is the tool of communication for any community. To Isserley, it is also what marks civilised beings from the barbarians - hence vodsels can never be humans because they lack, in their vocabulary, terms and concepts like "slan" and "chail". By positioning the humans' language against all other languages in his novel, Faber upsets the centrality of the vodsels/us and their/our language, and confers power onto the humans.
To use the language that we know, we need to articulate the words that belong to that particular language. The cutting of the vodsels' tongues further removes them from their humanity and power. This act is symbolic in the humans' contention for absolute power - what you cannot articulate you are unable to control. By depriving the vodsels of their speech, Faber reduces them into mere "animals" which are only able to make grunting sounds no different from the pigs and chickens in our world. The act therefore allows the humans to justify their actions and Isserley to assure Amlis that they are merely eating "animals".
At the end, Under the Skin is a novel that can be neatly summed up to be a display of Faber's remarkable ability for word-playing. The conscious subversion of the us/other binary serves as both the fundamental tension and appeal of the novel to a careful reader.
Under the Skin is artfully crafted by Faber to provide the reader with a new perspective of what it is to be human and/or otherwise. The us/other binary is given a totally new twist by a singular subversion of the definition of "human"; instead of "us" (as in the reader, the Homo sapien), the humans have come to be associated with the "other", the "alien", while the "other" have come to assume centrality in the story. This subversion of the us/other binary creates a powerful self-consciousness in the reader while reading the novel, which allows one to gain a new appreciation of the notions of alienation and oppression.
Perhaps the idea of the novel being a call for vegetarianism stems from this subversion. Because we are conscious of being the other, we become better able to empathise with the other. In this case, we are able to associate, albeit in a bizzare way, with the livestock that we rear and consume in our normal world. There is no denying that the captive vodsels bear a sinister resemblance to the chickens/pigs/cows which are kept for the sole purpose of human consumption. Even the way the vodsels are fed - in well-partitioned spaces comfortable enough only for them to feed and fatten up - carries a powerful reminder as to the practical but hardly moral ways we keep and feed our livestocks. The deconstruction and reconstruction of the terms "food" and "consumer" is what succeed in forcing us to reassess our meat-eating habits.
In the centre of this disharmony is the protagonist Isserley. She is the hunter and harvester for her people, working hard to satisfy the cravings of the Elites with this newly found delicacy. (PG: The mere thought of the vodsels/us being served on plates and eaten for food may send shivers down some of the more sensitive ones.) Yet, the unfortunate demands of her work has made her into one of the vodsels/us. This in turn generates a kind of cannabalism in the novel - remember the moment when Isserley is offered a piece of vodsel meat from Hilis and describes it as being "so tender" - which serves again to destablise the reader.
The destabillisation is given a further development by Faber when we consider Isserley's ambiguity. Indeed, Isserley suffers from several layers of oppression. On the one hand, she is human. Yet, on the other, she is physically vodsel-like. This makes her an alien in her own community. Although Isserley looks like a vodsel and even speaks their language, she thinks and behaves differently from the rest of them. This makes her a queer female in the eyes of her many male passengers/victims. This is further juxtaposed and heightened by the lack of female characters in the story.
Isserley suffers also from gender oppression. Despite her present mutilation, Isserley was famed to have been beautiful; this impression, combined with the notion of the other (ie. vodsel) makes her something exotic and desirable, especially to the working males who are hidden underneath the farmstead and who do not see other female humans. Even Amlis concedes, at one point, that Isserley "is beautiful...in her own strange, strange way". This sexual tension is another theme that reverberates throughout the novel.
While Isserley is oppressed, she also oppresses. This is especially evident in her denial of the vodsels' language to Amlis, probably in part to protect his good opinion of her. Nonetheless, this reveals another important theme in the novel - that language lies beneath any form of power struggle. A language is the tool of communication for any community. To Isserley, it is also what marks civilised beings from the barbarians - hence vodsels can never be humans because they lack, in their vocabulary, terms and concepts like "slan" and "chail". By positioning the humans' language against all other languages in his novel, Faber upsets the centrality of the vodsels/us and their/our language, and confers power onto the humans.
To use the language that we know, we need to articulate the words that belong to that particular language. The cutting of the vodsels' tongues further removes them from their humanity and power. This act is symbolic in the humans' contention for absolute power - what you cannot articulate you are unable to control. By depriving the vodsels of their speech, Faber reduces them into mere "animals" which are only able to make grunting sounds no different from the pigs and chickens in our world. The act therefore allows the humans to justify their actions and Isserley to assure Amlis that they are merely eating "animals".
At the end, Under the Skin is a novel that can be neatly summed up to be a display of Faber's remarkable ability for word-playing. The conscious subversion of the us/other binary serves as both the fundamental tension and appeal of the novel to a careful reader.
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