EVEN AFTER THE SUBSTANTIAL GREETING party at the airport, the roads leading up to the palace were lined with masses of people calling out their well-wishes.

Because there’s just that many people with that much time on their hands.

If it hadn’t been set up so poorly, I could roll with this.  It’s not like parades for royals is a new concept, and this is obviously not a regular event.  But when the whole Selection is introduced to me as ‘dumber than the Bachelor’ and then gets treated with this much grandiose?  I just can’t play along.  This book has already used up all its credit with me, and I simply can’t cut it any more slack.

And that’s to say nothing of the terrible worldbuilding in this novel that just makes it all the more confusing.  We’re in the capital city (which doesn’t have a name) but we don’t know who’s in it.  Are these Ones and Twos lining the streets and cheering?  If so, well, that’s a hell of a lot of rich people.  Is it the ‘varying shades of bad’ castes?  If so, well, what the fuck are they doing watching her car drive by instead of slavishly trying to get that next paycheck/meal? 

Many adored us, but there were people out there who wouldn’t be above hurting us to hurt the prince.

Everything about this just fails.  First of all, why are these girls adored?  They haven’t done anything yet.  They just got picked for being pretty.  I can see people having favorites based on looks, but things like that don’t garner this level of fangirlism.  People who have crowds of cheering fans are people who do stuff, even if its ultimately meaningless stuff.  Fans need something, some personality, to connect with if they’re to form an emotional attachment to a celebrity.  I don’t care if that thing is a simple as making a funny face at the paparazzi or carrying around a particular book while walking to and from sets.  That stuff at least let’s people go “Oh, they’re goofy and fun loving” or “Oh, they enjoy hobbies similar to mine.”  The girls in this book haven’t even done that much yet.  It’s entirely too early to have crowds of adoring fans.

I mean, you don’t see mobs of perfect strangers showing up on day one of American Idol auditions with signs.  They save that shit for, like, day three at least.

Second, no, killing the Selection girls would not hurt the prince.  The prince hasn’t met them yet, and just like the crowds, he doesn’t have a reason to care.  You know who does have a reason to care?  The general population.  Yes, the citizens shouldn’t be lining up with signs, but they should care, if just because these girls are symbolic.  We’re told in Chapter One that the Selection is a thing because it makes the average citizen feel more connected to their leaders.  Attacking the girls would be a symbolic severing of that connection.  It would be an attack on the normal people, not an attack on the prince.

This could all be fixed if the author would just slow the fuck down.  She’s so eager to have America and the other girls loved that she does it right from the get-go, and she neglects to properly establish stuff in-universe first.  All of this would work fine (sorta) if the story had just waited a week or so.

Apparently Marlee has the most signs out of any of the four girls in that car, which means she’s the most popular.  Celeste is pissy and thinks Marlee did something underhanded to get more popular.  I don’t see why she would bother, since this isn’t a competition that’s decided by popular opinion. 

America points out that Marlee doesn’t have any money to bribe people with, so Celeste counters that she could have used sex for barter instead. 

Normally YA books are fairly sexless.  I mean, it’s pretty wall-bangy to have a story where sex would logically be an issue, and then for no reason everyone is chaste.  But that, at least, is far better than this book.  This book seems to take the stance that sex is dirty, dirty, nasty and only performed by sluts, unless you’re married of course.  (And probably only in the missionary position after that.)  Celeste brings up sex as a bartering tool, and America reacts with shock and thinks that Marlee is far too “innocent” to even think of such things.  But she didn’t think there was anything wrong with money bribes, so it must be the sex itself that is ‘wrong.’

Girls, sex isn’t wrong.  Bribing someone with sex isn’t wrong.  You know what is wrong?  Bribing someone with sex if the other person doesn’t know they’re being bribed.  (i.e., lying to your sexual partner and promising more than you’re prepared to give.)  You know what else is wrong?  Being or feeling forced into giving sex for some necessary thing.  It’s true that there’s a lot that go wrong with sex, but it generally pertains to surrounding circumstances, not to the act of bumping uglies. 

(Also, the word ‘innocent’ bugs the shit out of me.  What, you can’t have sex without also knocking over a liquor store?)

On top of that, who would Marlee be bribing?  Is there some shady guy out there paying people to stand in the crowd and hold up pro-Marlee signs?  Are there candidate-specific commercials or fansites for these girls?  What am I even saying; THIS ISN’T EVEN A POPULARITY CONTEST!  WHY DOES ANYONE CARE?

They get to the palace, and America and the girls are split up and rushed inside.  America admits they are late because she was chatty at the airport, which shocks her guides.  So, yeah, we’re going right along with the idea that America is so special for just not ignoring people.

They go inside to a bunch of make-over stations, because that’s really what we need to complete the teenage girl trifecta: boys, bitchy enemy-girls, and makeovers!

America gets a stylist who asks her what kind of image she wants to play up. 

“I’m not changing everything about me to cater to some guy I don’t even know.” Or like, I added in my head.

“Oh, my. Do we have an individual here?” he sang, as if I were a child.

What?  Did I miss something?  The guy specifically asked you how you want to present yourself and gave you the option of picking out of anything.  Seriously, blank slate here.  He didn’t pop up and say “this is my vision for you and therefore we’re just going to roll with it.”  He literally said “How do we want to make you look?”  That’s about the opposite of changing everything about you.  Unless you were to tell him to change everything, of course.

And what’s with his reply?  He gives her the option to individualize her makeover and then is shocked she’s an individual?

Fine, then. We won’t change your image, we’ll just enhance it.

How is this any different from before she objected?

I need to polish you up a bit, but your aversion to all things fake might just be your greatest asset here. Hold on to that, honey.

When did she become adverse to all things fake?  When did anyone even suggest that she do anything fake?  Also, fuck off, she’s already worn make-up so far in this book.  It’s not like that shit grows on trees.

And, for the record, I would like to deliver a kick to the spleen on this whole ‘fake is bad’ idea.  I mean, yeah, photoshopping magazine models into being physically impossible standard-setters is bad, but that’s more an issue of the ‘physically impossible’ part.  Girls: if you don’t like something about yourself and want to change it, and if you can do so safely, do it.  It’s your body.  Wear clown make-up and get a dozen piercings and dye your hair purple.  Hell, get a nose job if you want.  As long as you do it to make yourself happy instead of someone else, then don’t listen to anyone telling you it’s wrong.  Be as happy as you can be, be confident, enjoy life, and flip the middle finger to all those haters.

Naturally, America rolls right along with this whole “unfake” thing because she’s ‘really’ beautiful.  Because that’s the real message of books like this: you have to be pretty, but you have to be born pretty.  If you weren’t born pretty and you try and ‘make’ yourself pretty, then you’re a horrible person who should be ashamed.

Then the man walks away and a bunch of women come in give America her own personal spa day.  She gets scrubbed and lotioned and manicured.  (Because, you know, vanilla scented lotion is ‘natural.’)

I told them I’d prefer not to have my nails painted, but they looked so disappointed that I told them they could do my toes. The one girl picked a nice neutral shade, so it wasn’t too bad.

Now nail polish is bad?  But vanilla lotion is good?  Where is all this coming from?  Where is the line between what the author thinks is acceptable and what’s not?  Does she even have a line, or is she rehashing the concept from other books without sparing one second of thought about the implications behind it?  Hm, I guess I just answered my own question.

America chats up a girl named Sosie who angsts about how her stylist wants to dye her hair because it’ll match her skin tone better.  Apparently this is a bad thing.  Um…even without pictures, I’m going to go ahead and side with the stylist.  I mean, not all of us can be perfectly color-coordinated like America.  If a stylist says she’d look better as a blonde, then I’d take his advice over that of some brat who apparently has never had to worry about her own looks before.

Sosie and America bond over how they both think fake stuff is bad, then over how they both think Celeste is a bitch.  Apparently she yells every few minutes at the maids.  I’m inclined to think that Celeste is just over-stressed, and possibly that there are people in her way.

I know, I know.  I’m making excuses for one character and then judging another one harshly.  However, that’s part of the readership process.  I, as a reader, am an emotional being.  I’m going to feel things about these characters.  If I like a character, or just feel sorry for a character, I’m more inclined to give them some slack.  If I hate a character, I’m more inclined to judge them harshly.  That’s part of human nature.  An author should be aware of this fact and try to make their characters sympathetic if they don’t want us to overly judge them.

My hair was washed, conditioned, hydrated, and smoothed… it was several inches shorter and had layers. I liked those; they made my hair catch the light in interesting ways.

Because that’s just so natural you guys.  Nothing at all artificial about cutting your hair to a flattering style.  Not like those evil guys that want to use dyes and highlights, oh my!

Lots of the other girls looked a little older or younger or just nicer after the makeup. I still looked like me when I was done.

And the other girls look like…not themselves?  You know, it’s the ‘nicer’ part of that quote that makes it really damning.  See, America looked ‘nice’ before the makeup, so it’s okay for her to wear it.  But if make-up actually improves your looks, well that’s just unacceptable.  (And what’s wrong with wanting to look ‘a little’ older or younger?)

Celeste also looks good, but because “she insisted upon piling it on.”  Fuck off, America.  If she looks good, then she looks good.

Next it’s dresses, and then an ‘after makeover’ interview.

But we want to make them really pull for you. And that won’t happen unless they can get to know you.

Uh, yeah, here I was thinking the book just didn’t understand that concept.  Apparently it does understand, it just put crowds of cheering fans outside anyway.  Because fuck logic, that’s why.

“I have to be honest, you don’t look like you changed too much to me. Can you tell us what happened in your makeover today?”

I thought. “They put layers in my hair. I like that.” I ran my fingers through the red strands, feeling how soft my hair was after professional care. “And they covered me in vanilla lotion. I kind of smell like dessert,” I said, sniffing my arm.

…you’re an idiot. 

She honest to god comes off as a small child in this section.  Just look at her; she’s sniffing her arm on national television.  And this books wants us to think she’d make a good queen?  She gives more bland answers in response to bland questions, and the whole thing is really just so fucking bland.

“Marlee! Look at your hair!”

“I know. They put extensions in it. Do you think Maxon will like it?” She looked genuinely worried.

“Of course! What guy doesn’t like a gorgeous blonde?” I said with a playful smile.

Damnit, book.  Now what are you trying to say?  That fake is okay so long as the person is nice?  Then how do you know all those other girls you’ve been constantly judging all through this book weren’t nice, too?

Then Marlee gushes about how America acted at the airport.

I lowered my head, a little embarrassed for being complimented over something that seemed so obvious.

You and me, both.  I think this is supposed to show America as humble, but it doesn’t work very well when it’s blatantly true.

A woman comes by to take a group of them on tour.  She says that the room they were just in is called the ‘Woman’s Room.’  That’s the stupidest fucking name for a room I’ve ever heard.  First, it implies that only women get beautified.  (When we first saw Prince Maxon, America bitched about how he was too polished.)  Second, it implies that beautification is all women do. Third, it’s just a damn awkward name.  Why not call it what it is: a spa.  I would say salon, but in a residence, that word has a different meaning.  Also, it seems only the queen and a few other ladies get pampered there, even though it’s big enough to handle makeovers for 35 girls at once?  Well then why not open that room up and let some of the other noble ladies have a crack at it.  Why not pamper the wives of visiting dignitaries or the daughters of political bigwigs?  It would go a long way toward that thing I’ve been talking a bit about called diplomacy. 

They see more rooms, blah blah, no going where the royal family lives, standard stuff.  Then they’re told they can’t go outside without permission.

This is merely a safety restriction. Try as we may, rebels have gotten within the grounds before.

Then your palace is not safe.  No, I’m serious.  These grounds are behind a huge, solid wall and in the middle of a city.  The only thing separating the ‘grounds’ from the ‘palace’ is glass, since this palace has fucking windows. 

If the situation is so dire that even the home of the royals isn’t safe, why are they having this selection at all?  Why couldn’t they wait a few years?  Maxon isn’t going to turn infertile…well, ever, technically.  There’s no reason they have to hold this bullshit gameshow right now.

High windows let in light, and it smelled like flowers and sunshine.

Guess what else high windows let in?  Shrapnel.

Here’s a fun fact: when grenades explode (really, when any explosive goes off),it’s safest to be on the ground.  Shrapnel goes out in a cone pattern, leaving a wedge of space just above the ground relatively debris-free.  The second story, on the other hand, gets a face full of lead.  (The girls on the second story.)

Another thing: how does light smell like flowers?  I can’t believe I almost missed that in thinking about exploding windows, but what the fudge?

Large paintings hung on the walls, depicting the kings of the past and a few renderings of old American and Canadian leaders. At least, that’s what I guessed they were. They didn’t wear any crowns.

So, yup, this world doesn’t have a history class.  Unless you’re a Six and go to public school, I guess.

Finally, America goes to her very own private room and meets her very own three private maids.  The maids are just so super-happy that she’s there, because America really needs even more of a fanclub.  I mean, it’s not like she gets enough attention for being normal yet.

These maids annoy me.  They’re described as overly-servile, as bowing and scraping constantly.  That’s not normal.  That’s not how a competent maid acts.  A competent maid (or manservant) will act like a fucking person with a job to do, not a bobble-head.  Bowing and scraping is a sign of submission and nervous fear.  It’s the act of someone who’s a little too eager to please, but who doesn’t quite know how to do it.  Now I’m kind of wondering if there’s a high turnover rate of maids at this palace, and these three girls are terrified that one wrong turn will put them out on the streets and in a situation like Aspen’s: unable to buy enough food.  That puts their attitude at a very creepy level.

America has to ask them several times to leave her alone, which makes fuck-all sense, even though I see it in fiction all the time.  A maid is an employee whose job is to do certain tasks as directed.  They’re not stupid.  If their employer says “do your job this way,” they’ll do the job that way.  It really shouldn’t be that hard a concept to understand that servants are not stupid, mindless automans.

America mopes, then the maids come back and dress her for dinner, even though she doesn’t need help dressing.

They were just so excited to be helpful, I couldn’t ask them to leave again.

These maids have only been in play for about a page, but it’s really, really disturbing how little consideration they are given.  America is talking about them here like they’re nothing more than slightly bright children.  Like they’d throw a temper tantrum if she said no, but they’re being good, so she’s going to give them a cookie instead.

They go back to the Women’s Room to watch the Friday news report.  Wait, so…the Stupidly Named Room isn’t just for primping?  It’s for whatever women do, regardless of what that thing is?

IS THERE ONLY ONE ROOM IN THIS PALACE WHERE WOMEN ARE ALLOWED TO GO?

DO I HAVE TO FUCKING BREAK SOMETHING?

Book, why do you hate women so much?  I mean, it’s bad enough that we’re explicitly told that the king and prince have a room where they work and the girls aren’t allowed to go there, but I assumed it was just these Selection girls because they are untested and unchosen.  But are you telling me that the queen, her maids, and her female relatives not only get spa-ed here, but they also socialize and do whatever else here?

Why, in a palace, are there not more rooms for everything the queen might want to do?  She should have an office, a room for visiting important guests, a room for visiting slightly-less-important guests, a room for her hobbies, etc.  Women are not so useless that the only rooms they’d need in a whole fucking palace are a spa and a bedroom.  That’s just…misogynistic.

So they watch the news, which has ‘the usual announcements.’

progress of the wars

Wars?  As in, multiple wars?  What the fuck, book.  Why are you having an expensive reality TV show at the same time as multiple wars and rebel attacks?

(Why are they rebel attacks instead of domestic terrorists?  ‘Rebels’ aren’t generally termed such except in hindsight and after they win, or by friendly foreign parties.  It’s too positive a name for an enemy to use on them.)

She was sitting next to Bariel Pratt… There was no mild way to put it: Her breasts were huge. They crept out of her strapless dress, tempting anyone to try and ignore them.

Guess what?  Big breasts are natural.  They’re a hell of a lot more natural than layers.  Big-boobied women?  Don’t consciously make them grow that way. 

Bariel was beautiful, but in a typical way.

Because this book never passes up a chance to deride women for their looks.

So, once again, despite there being several wars going on, the evening news focuses on talking about the Selection and each of the girls arriving at the airport.  (Also, seems the capital is in ‘Angeles.’  Los Angeles?  Really?  What a horrible choice.  Los Angeles isn’t close to anything.)

Lady Singer was the crowd darling at the airport, stopping to take pictures, sign autographs, and simply speak to anyone there. Miss America Singer is not afraid to get her hands dirty, a quality that many believe our next princess needs.

Yup, this announced just said, on national television, that shaking hands with the lower castes is ‘dirty.’  First: even if you think that, you don’t say that, because you really don’t want to give the rebels more to work with.  Second: America was one of those lower castes just a few days ago, but she doesn’t bat an eye at this.

Suddenly those stares made sense. My intentions didn’t matter. They didn’t know I didn’t want this. In their eyes, I was a threat. And I could see they wanted me gone.

Here’s a thought: Tell them you don’t want to be there.  I bet they’d hate you a lot less if you just said “Yeah, I really don’t want to be here, I’m just riding things out until I’m sick of pretty dresses.  Why pass up a free vacation, am I right?”

There continues to be no good reason why America can’t just say this shit, why she has to pretend to go along with all this.  Are they going to shoot her for a lack of enthusiasm?  Where is the drama in all this supposed to come from?