I’ll admit it. I’ve read ahead. And you know what? I’m still loving this book.
[Ed. Spoiler: I will keep on loving it.]
I still think there have been missteps, largely regarding who the appropriate audience for this book was, but I’m still loving how absolutely bananas this thing is.
Our narrator welcomes us into this chapter, asking us if we can smell, feel, and taste T-DOD, and I’m going to not put that in here because I feel a little sexually harassed by the “ooooh” in that part, so we’ll move on to where the narrator describes the sound:
Think about the loudest, most riotous crowd you’ve ever been in…and quadruple it. Then multiply that by the power of ten!
In other words, it’s as loud as people whispering backstage during a quiet scene.
The whole world is flooding to Metopia to see the delectable spectacle unfold. It takes place all over the planet, of course—on the sexy beaches of Terra BossaNova, on the strip of Striptown, round the Taj Gardens in Chakra—but there’s nowhere like Metopia for the most authentic experience. Modelland is right there, after all!
Previously, on these recaps, I struggled to understand whether or not Metopia was the entire world. Now, we know there’s a Brazil, a Las Vegas, and an India, as well as the previously mentioned Russia. I continue to be baffled by the geography and function of this place, but I’m willing to roll with it.
Here’s where some of the shit gets sinister:
But some visitors don’t trek from their corner of the globe just to see the Scouts’ initial descent. Some come to experience something else.
The Aftermath. The madness that affects the forsaken, the rejected, the unchosen, and the denied once all the Discovery after-parties have ended.
There’s this actual “plague,” which sounds a lot like the Messianic delusions some Christians have after visiting the Holy Land (I think that’s called Jerusalem Syndrome), but it causes physical symptoms like sweating and headaches during the onset. It’s caused by the disappointment of rejection and leads to:
Those intrepid females—the Pilgrims, as they are called—have tunnel vision so laser-focused taht no one can convince them they’re mistaken.
And it’s so nasty that the narrator compares it to the Black Death:
The plague is worse than the one you might already be familiar with—the B one. Bubonic, that is. That plague induces seizures, fevers, chills, gland swelling, the upchucking of blood, and the decomposition of skin while one is still alive.
This is the part where Jenny, a massive hypochondriac, fact-checks this: Bubonic plague doesn’t cause all that. Septicemic plague does. Septicemic plague happens when Bubonic plague goes untreated, but you can still just die of Bubonic plague without it developing into the septicemic plague. This sounds a lot more like Ebola.
Again, just bringing it up because I’m constantly paranoid about diseases and how I’m going to die from Marburg or something.
The more you know, I guess. [Ed. As it turns out, knowing more about ways to die actually doesn’t lessen existential dread.]
The narrator says they’d rather have Bubonic plague than the Pilgrim Plague, since you can just take antibiotics for the former but the latter is always fatal. Why fatal?
The Pilgrim Plague, however, is terminal, dahling. And I am not referring to an airline departure lounge. None who have journeyed up the mountain have ever made it to Modelland. And none have returned to Metopia alive.
And people come to watch this. They see these people exhibit symptoms of the disease, watch them take off their fatal quests, and just… what? Don’t stop them? Because it’s entertaining? You’d think someone would be trying to find a cure or a treatment or locking these women up so they wouldn’t die.
But in all this explanation, something that really stuck out to me is that only women are allowed into Modelland, apparently. What’s the deal with that? Are there no male models in the world of this book? How do people know which underwear to buy? This is chaos. This is anarchy.
[Ed. Men are allowed in Modelland, and we meet the male models later on. However, T-DOD is consistently referred to as an activity girls participate in. I guess the guys get their names chosen out of a hat.]
When the narrator is finished, we join the De La Créme family in their car, driving into LaDorno.
By the way, this is the most unbelievable part of the book, for me. They’re able to just drive into this part of the city on a day when thousands of people are cramming the streets? They didn’t have to book a hotel months in advance just to secure parking? They’re not stuck in a traffic backlog so long, they have to abandon their car and try to make it on foot? I can’t suspend my belief that hard, I’m sorry.
An unnaturally bleached-blond, orange-tanned, middle aged man […]
This is just a description of a random cotton candy seller, but did you picture Donald Trump instantly? I did.
There are people selling merch, including a bunch of stuff with Ci~L’s picture on it.
The ravishing Intoxibella’s intoxicating eyes entranced Tookie, pulling her in.
No, I’m sorry, our judges would have accepted, “The ravishing Intoxibella’s intoxicating eyes intoxicated Tookie.” When you’ve already used a similar word twice, you might as well go for the hat trick.
Protesters also lined the sidewalks, holding up signs that said WOMEN, DON’T WALK! IT’S ALL A SHAM! T-DOD’S A CROCK, A PHONY EXAM!
I really dig that the worldbuilding includes opposition to the dominant culture. This book could have easily been like, “Everyone loves T-DOD and there’s nothing more to think about,” but as we continue along, things feel more and more damning of the fashion industry, to the point that, after reading about the plague and the commercialism, you kinda agree with these protesters.
If there is one signature feature of this book that I will remember to my grave, it’s the lists of descriptions. For example, this description of the girls showing up to walk in T-DOD:
Homely girls, riveting girls, short and tall girls, droopy-eyed and doe-eyed girls, shapely-hipped and pigeon-toed and slew- and flat-footed girls, twig-limbed and ample-figured and athletic girls.
I need some commas in there, because I’m definitely seeing a shapely-hipped, pigeon-toed, clumsy, flat-footed girl, and another girl with twig limbs and an ample-yet-athletic figure.
Hey, let’s check in with Tookie, who continues to be the most likable heroine we’ve ever met in any of our book club selections:
Tookie had forgotten that not all the participants were exactly Intoxibella quality. She stared at them as they passed, envious of their guts and determination.
Instead of thinking about how ugly and pathetic they are or dismissing them as vapid and beauty-obsessed, Tookie finds a good quality about them that she admires. Tell me Feyre or the Zodiac Twins would have that kind of attitude. [Ed. And considering the way our Blood of Hercules read is going over on Patreon, we’re just lucky there are some other female characters in this.]
While they park the car, Creamy lectures Myrracle about not dancing during the walking portion, and again, I cannot suspend my disbelief:
He pulled into a handicapped parking space, beating another car to the spot.
Zero chance there aren’t just a bunch of non-handicapped stickered cars parked in those spaces already, with zero consequences. They’re parked in the access lanes, too, guaranteed.
T-DOD takes place in the LaDorno town square, which faces the mountain. It’s crowded with thousands of spectators and participants.
An enormous, exquisitely carved eight-story clock stood on the north side, and screens flanked the perimeter, many projecting images of the approximately one thousand other cities hosting chaotic Day of Discovery events all over the world.
So, do the Modelland scouts visit all these places, too? If not, why do they have their own celebrations? And if so, why do people come from all over the world to this particular one? I know it’s closest to the mountain, but it’s not clicking for me.
A third depicted a massive crowd of young ladies gathered around an auto racetrack in the city of FiveHundred.
Oh, thank god. Indiana still exists in this fantasy world. I was wondering.
There was an opening that offered a panoramic view of the Modelland mountain. Three obelisks stood at the base, pointing straight up into the sky—one sparkling ivory, one golden, one bisque that was covered with spots. No one knew who had built them—they’d appeared overnight six months ago. But the Obscure Obelisks, as they’d come to be called, attracted their own gathering of spectators, many carrying religious icons, who believed that the structures were significant to them.
Having recently read The Fifth Season, this fills me with dread.
Tookie likes the obelisks because of their mystery, so hopefully that’s a plot thread that we hear more about. But I’m super bummed to know that the sequels never materialized, and whatever is left unresolved in this book will never get resolved.
The family finds a spot and sets up a tent for Myraccle to get ready in.
Brian unzipped the bag crammed with Tookie’s escape gear. “What the hell is this?” In each hand, he held a flashlight and a pillow. His eyes settled on Tookie.
Uh-oh. She’s caught.
“Oh, honey! Good thinking!” Mrs. De La Créme said, running to the bag. “Brian, bind these two flashlights to the tents ceiling for extra light. The pillows are perfect for Bellissima to nap on. And…green bananas…Tookie, you didn’t!”
Yeah, you’re right, I didn’t, Tookie thought bitterly. those green bananas were supposed to last for a week, for her and Lizzie.
Phew. She’s not caught. And not-caught in such a way that it reinforces how oblivious and self-absorbed Tookie’s mom is. Because this book is actually fucking delightful.
Oh, but just for clarity, the “tents” typo is in the book, not a result of my bad typing.
As they get Myrracle ready, Tookie decides to talk to her mom about the whole “factory dependent” thing she overheard the night before.
“Uh, C-C-Creamy?” she said softly. “After Myrracle is chosen, n-nothing has to change, right?” You’re not going to send me away to become a Factory Dependent, are you?
“Tookie, your father has made some hard decisions, but he is my husband, and I have to honor them,” Mrs. De La Créme murmured absently, applying gloss to Myrracle’s lips. “I should imagine things will change quite a bit.”
Tookie gasped. “So does that mean…”
But Mrs. De La Créme had already turned away.
Tookie’s mouth hung open. So that was it. They really were sending her away. Tears pricked her eyes.
Myrracle puts the SMIZE on, and people around them lose their minds over it. One mother actually looks like she’s going to commit violence to take it. Tookie thinks that her sister is more beautiful than the 7Sevens they just saw the day before, because this isn’t ACOTAR and our main character supports other women.
A shrieking whistle filled th eair and all eyes turned skyward. A bowling ball-shaped man with a full white beards and mustache, twinkling little eyes, and a jutting chine, wearing a white top-hat, swept straight down into the now-empty square, supported by a harness. Tookie recognized him as Devin Rump the Sixth, the mayor of Metopia.
It would have been funnier if “Devin Rump” was descripted like the orange-tanned dude earlier, but in fairness, this book was written before Trump began slowly morphing into a traffic cone.
The Mayor gives a little speech, including talking about all the different girls that could get picked. Maybe it would be only blonde girls, maybe just brunettes, will they be tan, what will their eyes look like, etc.
Tookie used to watch the mayor every year on television on The Day of Discovery, wishing, hoping he’d utter, Will it be girls with one brown and one green eye? but it had never happened.
The eye color thing is still weird to me. This society is fashion-obsessed, but they have an issue with people who have two different colored eyes? When they’re all trying to stand out out on T-DOD? I get that Tookie needs to be beautiful but with some kind of flaw, but surely there are colored contacts in this image-obsessed world, right?
“And if you are not chosen, don’t fret. Metopia has many wonderful jobs manufacturing clothes, accessories, and beauty products. Holding a job in a factory is just as worthy of esteem as being an Intoxibella!”
The crowd isn’t buying it, which makes them so much smarter than people in real life, frankly. These folks fully recognize that blue-collar jobs aren’t some kind of moral victory and that they’re living in an unfair system in which only a handful of people are raised from impoverished lives by factors they can’t control.
Myrracle is getting nervous and holds Tookie’s hand, asking if she looks okay.
Tookie looked at her sister, suddenly feeling a protective and loving rush. It wasn’t Myrracle’s fault their parents were horrible people. Myrracle might not have been the best sibling, but she was all Tookie had. “You look absolutely beautiful,” she said. “Breathtaking. Really. Now, remember, Myrracle. Dance in your spirit but not with your body, ‘kay?”
Justice for Modelland. But I can see why this wasn’t a popular book. YA at this time was loaded with Not Like Other Girls™ who loathed anything pretty or popular and could not summon up any kindness. Just self-pity and bitterness toward other women. Which more or less explains “influencer” culture.
God, the ’10s really did a number on teen girls.
Tookie had a sudden revelation: This might be it. The last time she would see Myrracle.
And she’s sad about it. Not because she’s jealous or worried about what’s going to happen when Myrracle gets chosen—which even Tookie believes is a foregone conclusion, she believes in Myrracle so much.
JUSTICE FOR MODELLAND.
The chapter ends on the mayor announcing the beginning of the T-DOD walk. I had originally planned to combine two chapters for this recap to try and catch up, but frankly… T-DOD is the most bizarre thing I’ve ever read, and it deserves its own recap. It’s really where it embraces being a book-version of a John Waters movie.
