Personification puts the finishing touches on an upended world. As the effects of ice-nine ripple across San Lorenzo, Papa Monzano’s castle “groaned and wept aloud.” In Chapter 116, it looks out haggardly at the frozen horizon:
The palace, its massive, seaward mask now gone, greeted the north with a leper's smile, snaggle-toothed and bristly.
The palace’s personification makes for resonant symbolism. Built by emperor Tum-bumwa, the palace traces its inspiration to a work of fiction—the brutal emperor enlisted 1400 people in its construction upon seeing a “design in a child’s picture book.” Yet in this moment of destruction, it has lost its “seaward mask.” Like a performer setting aside their costume, the fortification gets stripped of its illusions. Papa Monzano’s castle reveals itself for what it truly is—a barren, useless structure whose fortifications “never defended anything.” The imploding castle speaks to San Lorenzo’s condition at large, as Bokononism, science, and American democracy all fail the island. Papa Monzano’s modernizing regime has destroyed the world. Pledges of freedom fall about as quickly as Hitler’s caricature planted in the sea. Meanwhile, the San Lorenzans follow Bokonon’s instructions to their pathetic deaths on Mount McCabe.
Beneath the palace’s “seaward mask” is a “leper’s smile, snaggle-toothed and bristly”—ghastly descriptions that seem to expose reality’s brutal and unforgiving truths. Shorn of its lies and self-comforting fables, San Lorenzo is once again a useless, forgettable tropical wasteland. Humans are base, irrational creatures who manage not only to play with fire but, in this case, ice. The palace—like the world—gives up its game of appearances and shows its disappointing, sickly reality instead. The world admits its difficult truths, stirring to life for the first time before freezing forever.