To refresh everyone’s memories, we’re currently re-reading Modelland after reading it as a Jealous Patrons Book Club selection in 2024.
While we’re back, the narrator isn’t. The narrator hasn’t been around for a couple of chapters now. Where are they? What are they doing? Have they abandoned us?
A few minutes later, Tookie stood in the doorway of the bedroom she shared with Myrracle.
This threw me off. I got the impression that they lived in a mansion. A shitty, falling apart mansion, but still something big and impressive, right? I can’t have been the only one thinking that’s what was being described.
A long piece of duct tape bisected the room, separating Tookie’s side from Myrracles […]
That’s very sitcom of you, Tookie. But the duct tape doesn’t help, because Myrracle just throws her shit everywhere, anyway. Tookie’s bed is buried beneath mounds of stuff, described in a paragraph-long list that probably could have been edited down. Sometimes, the amount of unnecessary detail makes me think Tyra had a hand in writing at least some of the text rather than just a rough outline because over-describing is one of those rites of passage for all writers.
[Ed. To this day, I have no idea how much of the actual prose was written by Tyra and how much was written by the ghostwriter, but I maintain that over-description is something all of us have to do while finding our feet.]
[…] and torn-out pages from Modelland magazines were scattered across the floor like leaves that had fallen from a fashion tree.
They said the name of the thing in the thing!
Tookie cleans off her bed so she can lay on it and think about the moment she had with Theophilus.
She closed her fingers around the now defective T O OKE button.
As one of our fellow Jealous Patrons pointed out: where the fuck did the K come from? It originally said “Vote For Love”. At best, the letters could have scraped off to say “T O O.”
I don’t think the button is going to matter that much, though, because when I was praying for death last weekend, I allowed myself to read ahead in this. I needed something to do that was fun, and this delivers.
Tookie fantasizes about one day marrying Theophilus:
We can call our boy Tookophilus and our girl Thoodie!
Now where did the D come from?! Does the alphabet work differently for Tyra Banks than it does for everybody else?
Tookie is kissing herself in the mirror when Myrracle comes in and catches her. She’s surprisingly supportive of kissing one’s self in the mirror, mostly because she isn’t all that impressed with actual kissing.
Then there’s a section break, and Tookie wakes up from sleepwalking to find her father in the living room, practicing his old acrobat tricks in the middle of the night.
An empty bottle of TaterMash, a colorless distilled beverage imported from Kremlingrad, lay tipped over on the floor.
Obviously, the world of Modelland is an alternate Earth, and on this Earth, Russia is named Castleville or something close to that. [Ed. I don’t find my sentence here particularly clear; what I was saying is that Kremlingrad translates to Castleville. And Modelland proves to be a mish-mash of locations analogous to Earth, as well as totally wild, otherworldly places.]
Tookie remembers how when she was younger, her father would ask her to assist him when he practiced, and it was kind of a sweet father-daughter thing. He was a huge star in something called Circo del Soul and let me tell you, this circus is “gouda on the popcorn” fancy. There are velvet seats and golden programs and the rings are surrounded by giant swords. While Tookie reminisces about her father’s glory days, we learn about the accident that destroyed his career.
Her father, the mighty Chris-Créme-Crobat, was going to execute a new move that evening. Circo del Soul had billed it as the first time any human had ever attempted such a feat.
There’s no indication as to what the feat is, so I have decided that it’s The Burning Woman Hurling Through The Air With Dynamite In Her Hair Over Sharks And Spiky Objects, Caught By The Man Locked In The Cage. It fits with the overall Dahlian flavor of the novel.
However, right as Tookie’s father had reached the seventh-story landing on the stage, Mrs. De La Créme pulled out her mirror to add a bit of Wrinkle Redux to her tanned and hideously lined face—”I want to look my best when the cameras all turn to me after his feat is done,” she murmured. But the mirror caught a beam of light that shone right into Chris-Créme-Crobat’s eyes, momentarily blinding him. In a panic, he lost his footing and fell seven stories. Most acrobats would have had extensive injuries or even died, but not Tookie’s nimble father. He tucked his body and landed smoothly on his upper back, propelling himself forward into a smooth tumble. The audience erupted into cheers. Chris-Créme-Crobat then arched upward to stand from his backbend and face his adoring, applauding, whistling, screaming fans. Ever the devoted showman, he thrust himself forward into a deep bow, impaling his eye on one of the five-foot swords at the perimeter of the stage.
I rarely laugh out loud at books. Honestly, I rarely show any outward sign of anything while reading. It’s just this blank stare most of the time. But this made me lose it. Like, this man fell seven stories and survived when a fall of four stories is considered universally fatal, then immediately stabs his eye out by accident?
This is yet another example of why this book doesn’t work as a YA. The over-the-top tone is better suited to middle grade. By the time a kid is reading YA, this would strike them as ridiculous in the bad way. It would remind them of the books they read as a kid that had these outlandish scenarios, and it would just feel babyish. As an adult, I can read this and feel the way I felt reading James and the Giant Peach, still one of my all-time favorite books owing to the character of the centipede, whom I desperately wish was a real dude I could hang out with.
Seriously, the utter chokehold the little illustration of the centipede singing his song had on me was unreal. I was convinced that every bug on that peach would love me, but I knew in my heart that Centipede and I would get along best.
Tookie’s mother didn’t handle the accident very well:
“Don’t you see?” she cried in Tookie’s face. “This is the end for him. He only has one damn eye. He’s damaged. Defective. Done!” Her mother had then calmed down and held Tookie’s shoulders. “It was a freak accident, okay. You and I do not have any idea where that beam of light came from that made him fall.”
“You didn’t hear it/You didn’t see it/You won’t say nothing/To no one/Ever in your life/You never heard it/How absurd it will seem/Without any proof.” Now that I’m thinking about it, Tommy was very much like a Roald Dahl story, too.
In the present, Mr. De La Créme notices that Tookie is watching him. He gets embarrassed that he’s wearing his old outfit and reliving the glory days, but Tookie tells him that she thinks he’s still good at his tricks. She offers to spot him. He takes her up on it, saying that if it looks like he’s going to fall, she’s supposed to warn him. She’s also supposed to warn him if Creamy comes in.
Tookie stared at her father’s flabby stomach and glass eye. Her mother obviously loved him less, or had fallen out of love completely, now that he was defective. In a way, it only made Tookie connect with her father more: they were two defectives in a world tha twas obsessed with perfection.
While Tookie is thinking about the wreck of her parents’ marriage, she totally misses the signs that her father is going to fall. He hits his legs on the coffee table and the moment of father-daughter bonding from the olden days is shattered.
Her father stared at her for a long moment, carefully examining her. A startled, disgusted expression flashed across his face as if a light had flipped on inside his head. It was a look Tookie had seen before—but one he’d never explained.
“Just go. For all of us,” he said, waving her away.
This all seems a little dramatic, right? I mean, she just accidentally did a bad job spotting for her father’s acrobat routine in the dark, right? But oh ho, dear Patron, I have read on.
That’s the end of the chapter, and we go on to chapter six. And look who’s decided to join us again:
Now it’s time to dish about LaDorno, dahlings, the most desirable quadrant in all f Metopia. Sunny skies. Pleasant seventy-eight-degree temperatures at all times—except on the beaches, where it’s a wonderful eight-five. Warm, sweet-smelling seawater. Low humidity, without a cloud for miles. And when you breathe in, you inhale only fresh, crisp, unpolluted air. You want to live in this place, right?
You and the rest of the world, dahling.
The narrator explains that in order to live in LaDorno, people have to prove themselves worthy. There’s a council who looks at how much money you have in your bank accounts, what you’re buying, who your family and employer are, and they even go to your house and make sure you’ve only got designer stuff. Which, I guess, explains why Creamy is buying new stuff all the time, because there’s no way she doesn’t want to live in LaDorno someday.
One thing to know, though, is that there is a sect of people that does not have to be subjected to LaDorno’s sadistic entrance challenges in order to be allowed to live within the quadrant’s guarded gates. And who might they be? I’m sure you’ve guessed it by now, but let me clue you in: the names of these sacred souls begin with I and end with -ella. And guess what.
We’re just about to sneak a peek at a few of them.
7Seven of them, to be exact.
Tookie is shopping with her mother and Myrracle for a dress that will go with the SMIZE, and we get two really incredible descriptions. The first one is of the mall where they’re shopping:
One of her favorite parts of the Esplanade was the smell: a jumble of parfums and eaux de toilette, fountain chlorine, and a variety of ethnic cuisines from the one hundred and six restaurants scattered among the stores.
This is like one of those “you can’t hear a picture” things. I can smell this text. I think anyone who has ever been inside a mall (and that experience is dying out, lemme tell ya) can smell this paragraph.
The second description that really impressed me was:
T-DOD pandemonium assaulted them immediately. Hundreds of mothers and daughters pawed frantically through the mall, their foreheads beaded with sweat, the bags heavy under their eyes and on their arms.
“[…] the bags heavy under their eyes and on their arms.” WHAT? That is INCREDIBLE. Like, without that line, the paragraph would be like, okay, we get it, the moms and daughters are frantically shopping. But that? Chef’s kiss.
I’m not sure I’ve ever read a good line in any of our past selections.
But then:
Dresses lay helter-skelter over the racks, on the counters, and on every inch of floor space: Feathered dresses; sequined dresses; tiered, bustled, and ruffled dresses. Dresses with sweetheart necklines, dresses with one shoulder; off-the-shoulder, strapless, and open-backed dresses. Halters. A-line and asymmetrical dresses. Sundresses and cocktail dresses. Prom dresses. Ombres. Metallics.
Yup. Those are certainly dresses, all right. I cannot think of a dress that’s not represented in that description and, frankly, that’s a problem.
Amid all the noise and tussling, Tookie felt a pang of longing. Normal mothers helping their normal, single-color-eyed daughters. Tookie thirsted for a drink of it.
First of all, I’m still not understanding how having mismatched eyes is considered an ugly thing. Second… is anyone else finding this book shockingly subversive? Like, this is a book with a supermodel’s name on the cover and so far, the heroine is an outcast in an extremely shallow world obsessed only with fashion. The fashion industry is depicted as being extremely predatory and operating without regard for human life, dignity, and agency. This was not what I was expecting Tyra Banks to sell to me.
It’s kind of making me wonder if ANTM, wherein the modeling hopefuls are subjected to degrading, demoralizing challenges to “prove” that they have what it takes to survive the fashion industry, isn’t just an exposé disguised as a reality show.
[Ed. I haven’t watch the ANTM documentary on Hulu yet. Don’t spoiler it for me.]
They find the dress for Myrracle and leave the mall, and on the street, there are tons of people selling T-DOD souvenirs and merchandise demanding to know where Ci~L is.
Tookie paused, staring longingly at the Intoxibella’s face on the cheap T-shirt, beguiled by her hypnotizing matching green eyes.
Okay, so, again… not getting what makes matching eyes so superior. I thought the point of modeling was to have a unique look so you stand out enough to be memorable to casting agents and shit like that.
Ci~L was the only Intoxibella in history to grace the cover of Modelland magazine twelve times in a row, every month for an entire year. There were six top cosmetics brands in the world, and Ci~L had had contracts with all of them—simultaneously.
You may be thinking, how does that work? But that’s the point, and that’s another aspect that makes this book so over-the-top. Obviously, you never have deals with direct competitors, but we’re talking about a model who is so in-demand that brands are willing to share her. And that wouldn’t fly in a YA because the age group is going to demand more realism than that.
While they’re walking, Tookie notices a man sitting on a bench by a mall entrance.
A man she’d seen on her walks home from school. He had broad, football-player shoulders, but today he was so drooped over that his body made a shrimp shape on the bench. His skin was faintly wrinkled, and his root-beer-brown eyes looked sad. He mumbled softly to himself, just like he always did, and held on to the laces of an enormous battered wingtip shoe slung over his shoulder. The shoe was why Tookie had given him a secret nickname: Wingtip.
Okay, we’re not gonna accuse Tookie of having a great imagination here. But you know what? It’s kind of cool that she isn’t. [Ed. Isn’t what, Jenny? Did you have more of a thought there, or did you mean “doesn’t?” But yes, in any case, Tookie is a great FMC specifically because she’s not exceptional at everything she does or tries.]
Creamy tells Tookie to avoid the guy because he’s “demented” and “dangerous,” but Wingtip starts talking to her. Before Tookie can answer him, something starts to happen:
Everyone turned and gaped at the mountain in the center of town. All at once, huge waves of the mountain’s golden fog began to vanish, and beams of gold light that transformed to golden shadows cascaded down the ridge and swept over every street. Tookie heard a soft, alluring giggle in her ear. She felt a swipe of satin brush up against her arm. The smell of blood oranges filled the air.
This is the first time we’ve seen supernatural occurrences in this book, and it comes without explanation or worldbuilding that prepares us for it. Again: this is a middle-grade book squeezed into a YA skin. Younger readers just accept magic without complicated explanations or world consistency. Magic is still a natural part of a story for that particular audience. It’s only when readers become a little older that magic needs an explanation or tone to it before, say, page sixty-six. [Ed. What concerns me about this paragraph is that I was clearly considering SMIZEs a naturally occurring phenomenon. I mean, Modelland still has the overall tone of a middle grade read, but this is not an example of that. Maybe I’d landed on some kind of explanation for a SMIZE that made it seem not-supernatural. Like it was a fungus or it was placed in the water supply on purpose.]
The fog on the mountain had completely evaporated, revealing the top of the mountain, which glowed like a metropolis at dusk.
Could have just said, “revealing the top.” But I’m going to let this slide because I feel charitable toward this book.
Hovering above the mountain was an illuminated eye with its SMIZE flourishes made up of millions of birds from a myriad of species. Tookie had seen the phenomenon before, but never this close. A sleek yet enormous hand of smoke looped around the entire mountaintop and proceeded to spell a word with its white plumes of smoke.
Two things: I let mountain/mountain go, but now we’re doing smoke/smoke in the same paragraph? Come on, Modelland. Get your shit together. Second thing: “a myriad.” It’s grammatically correct. There’s no argument there. But if you ascribe to the theory of writing that fewer words are better? You can just say “myriad.”
What are the letters spelling out?
M-O-D-E-L-L-A-N-D.
They said the name of the thing in the thing!
Everyone stops to watch what’s happening, and a voice comes from the sky. A voice with what’s described as a “Gowdee’an” accent. I don’t know what that means yet or what the voice is supposed to sound like, so they probably should have covered that before, if it’s meant to have an impact.
The voice is coming from the BellaDonna, the leader in charge of everything on the mountain.
I also suspect that the BellaDonna may be our narrator: [Ed. I don’t remember if the identity of the narrator is ever actually revealed, so this re-read is going to be super exciting for me.]
“The Day of Discovery is less than one sunset away,” the BellaDonna went on. “And so, the time has come to present to you this year’s newly minted 7Seven. this is a glimpse at what your future might be, if you are lucky, if you are so divine, if you’re one of the most special girls in the world! Each and every girl on the planet has a chance to be one of the enlightened. Could it be you?”
I’m still a little confused as to whether Metopia is a city or the world because we keep hearing that this event takes place in Metopia and it’s Metopia that goes nuts about it and Metopia is the center of fashion in the world. Does T-DOD happen in different countries and cities? Again, looking at this like a YA, this is not a question. If they said Metopia was the entire world in a middle grade, I would just accept it. But as a YA, readers can read about tatermash from Kremlingrad and go, okay, is this the world, then? Like, our world?
“As you all know, only seven girls graduate from Modelland each year, and those talented seven join the ranks of the only famous people, known throughout the world. the Intoxibellas.”
But… Tookie’s dad was a famous person…
“Without further ado, I present the stunning, Statuesque, Strobotronic Stars with Stupefying Stratospheric Struts! The 7Seven! Please worship them as the Intoxibellas they have now become!”
What happens to the 7Seven when new girls are picked on T-DOD? I get that they become Intoxibellas, but are there more than seven of those?
So, I’m not going to cover the entire introduction of each of the 7Sevens, because they all appear and do their powers. Because they have powers. They wear these belts called Senturas that activate their powers, but apparently, they already have powers?
The powers have goofy names like “Chameeleoné” (the ability to change one’s looks), ThirtyNever (when you reach your thirtieth birthday, you become seventeen again, thus enabling you to stay Leonardo DiCaprio’s girlfriend forever), Excite-to-Buy (does what it says on the tin; her presence ramps up consumerism), Seduksheeon (which I could not for the life of me even sound out at first), SixxSensa (the ability to gauge trends), Teleportaling (teleportation), and of course, Multiplicity (a terrible Michael Keaton movie).
“Unfortunately, once again this year, Modelland has not produced the ultimate Intoxibella, a Triple7, a girl possessing all seven powers. […]”
Wait… if she’s a 7Seven, and she has all seven powers… where does triple come in?
One of the 7Seven’s names is Exodus, and Tookie takes that a sign that it’s time to run away with Lizzie. When Exodus comes out to greet the crowd, she sees Tookie and asks her what her name is, but before Tookie can say anything, Myrracle, assuming the 7Seven is talking to her, butts in and Exodus leaves.
Everyone is all caught up in the ceremony when Tookie spots Lizzie in the crowd.
Lizzie just stared ahead into nothingness, not at all unlike Wingtip. Then she spoke in a drone Tookie had never heard from her, as if she was a medium at a séance. “They took her last night. By her feet. The burning continued through the night. They cut open her blisters and poured liquid metal into her veins.”
Lizzie then raised the cuffs of her pants, which were dragging on the ground, revealing feet that looked like they had been dipped in battery acid, with open sores that oozed pus. The area near her arches had a hundred little cuts arranged in straight lines, as if they were soldiers ready for battle.
Okay, so maybe this would be a little strong for middle grade. Lizzie begs Tookie to run away the next day, but Tookie’s mom calls to her and when Tookie looks back, Lizzie has vanished.
Wingtip approaches Tookie and they have brief interaction in which the man tells her that she’s entitled to have a dream, and she should never give up on that dream or else she’ll become like him. Creamy is furious that Tookie stopped to talk to the guy, and the chapter ends.
