Boy, do I love this book. Like BAD BRAINS, which I also re-read this year, I think I appreciated it more the second time around (about six years after I initially encountered it). Some of this is simply that Koja is a writer who rewards re-reading; once you're familiar with the plot, you can focus on the beauty of her sometimes difficult stream-of-consciousness prose and on pondering the questions her novels raise about the nature of love and artistic practice. Some of it, though, is that my tastes have matured in the past half decade. I think I have a lot more patience for novels with unconventional plot structures and pacing than I did a few years ago.
In the case of SKIN, the first third of the novel would be an excellent novella in its own right, with a conventional but satisfying dramatic arc: sculptor Tess and dancer Bibi meet, get along like a house on fire, and form a performance art troupe that becomes a surprise success in the local underground scene. They push themselves and their growing entourage of performers to more and more ambitious heights, pulling all kinds of obviously very dangerous stunts at their shows, until, inevitably, something goes horribly wrong and a performer is accidentally killed onstage in a gruesome way, arresting their troupe's meteoric ascendancy and shattering it forever.
But although it could stop there, SKIN continues for another 200 pages or so. At first, the novel feels formless and a little slow in the wake of the tragedy, as if echoing the grief Tess and the others are laboring beneath. Tess withdraws into her studio and works obsessively, but no longer has any interest whatsoever in showing her art to anyone. Bibi also becomes obsessive and compulsive, getting piercings and scarifications regularly, participating in poorly-negotiated and unsanitary BDSM edgeplay, cutting herself, starving herself, and becoming convinced she can reach spiritual and artistic apotheosis through the mortification of her flesh. Tess and Bibi reunite and, without the performance art troupe as a conduit for their passions, begin a more conventional romantic/sexual love affair with one another. They can't accept, understand, or handle each others' coping mechanism-slash-artistic philosophy and break up after a few months. Their mutual friend Michael acts first as a kindly, seemingly well-intentioned mediator between them, but gradually becomes-- or reveals himself to have always been-- a kind of Iago, sleeping with both women, egging them on towards self-destruction, and poisoning them against each other. Bibi is obviously succumbing to psychosis. Tess is obviously succumbing to depression. Things get worse and worse, darker and darker-- but slowly, over the course of a couple years in-story, the way these things tend to get worse in real life. There *is* a second climax of even more shocking, tragic violence, but it comes late, in the novel's last twenty or thirty pages.
Anyway, I remember losing patience with the novel's second and much longer leg a few times on my first reading because I felt it was kind of aimless and dreary. How wrong I was! Not only does this section have 1.) the lesbian sex and 2.) most of the really thoughtful and inventive meditations on art's purposes and powers, it's a beautiful evocation of the way life drags on after loss and trauma-- also of how difficult it can be to let go of certain loves even when it's obvious a relationship won't work/is impossible. To be honest, this is probably my favorite of what I think of as the "Abyss trio" (THE CIPHER and BAD BRAINS being the other two), and it really shows early 90s Koja maturing as a writer and a thinker.