A man without a face infects the lives of others, becoming the person he discovers to be most interesting, feasting on their flaws, peering into their peculiarities in order to fulfill their meaningless desires. The main protagonist of the novel has lost his identity in favor of, much like a genie, being able to adopt, accentuate, and adorn the identities of others. He cannot remember his past or how this condition came to be; for all he knows, he's always been faceless and invisible, forced to watch others, reading their eyes, interpreting every facial gesture, while seeking the most interesting flaw. He is one of the people, if only the people would notice him standing there, right next to them, staring back, as if to say, "Hey, I know you..."
When you have the face of any other, you see the cracks peeling apart a person's face, showing bone, bleeding with the hidden anguish of hushed nerves. You feel each and every nerve tensing, and you feel for them--for everyone--when they buckle, unable to bear the burden of each daunting episode. When you spend all your time and energy making sure the people around you are happy, no one will question whether or not you feel the same way. No one is there to question your motivations.