The Hunger Games trilogy and I, we’ve had quite a month! I’m going to attempt to type this post quickly, as I’m already about to cry, and blurry vision never did make writing easy. Truth be told, I didn’t know what to expect from the series, but I certainly didn’t predict an undeniable love of nearly ever character (bad, bad, BAD idea) or a shocking realization that a trilogy cannot be a trilogy if there is a fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh or 39th book. The following are my surface thoughts on the stories, including my loves and dislikes. Because honestly, if I tried to give an in-depth analysis, I would be writing for the rest of my life.
~Spoiler alert! If you have not read The Hunger Games, but plan to do so at some point, I would suggest returning to this post later on, when your life is three books better off.~
The father who mined
The mother who tried
The sister who died
The one who survived
With that…
What I love: The characters. The characters, the characters, the CHARACTERS. My love of fictional people put me at a kind of disadvantage when reading this series, but I couldn’t help it. Katniss, Peeta, Gale, Haymitch, Prim, Finnick, Johanna, Effie, Rue, Mags, Madge, Delly, Greasy Sae, Hazelle, Darius, Cinna, Octavia, Venia, Caesar, Boggs, and Annie…. I love Buttercup, for crying out-loud! These characters make the story what it is, from Katniss’s long lists of debts to Annie’s strange habit of blocking out total silence. It’s who they are. It’s what they do. They’re all just so special.
And, of course, what’s a good story without a little romance? Staged or true, Suzanne Collins did a wonderful job creating a love triangle that put me on the edge of my seat until the very end.
Jingle bells, Haymitch smells
Happy Hunger Games!
Prim gets picked, the odds are flipped
And Katniss becomes famous.
Jingle bells, Quarter Quells
Happy Hunger Games!
Peeta dies, Katniss cries
And Finnick saves the day. Hey!
So, I’m walking around, subconsciously singing the song above, and Brody yelps, “Peeta DIES‽” So then, of course, my mom walks in, and she’s all, “Peeta DIES‽” So I attempt to explain– actually, no. He only dies for a minute– but no one believes me. Best of all, my mom thinks it was Peeta I was crying over a few nights ago, not poor Prim. Oh, well. She’ll figure it out soon enough.
Peeta: Are you seriously going to sit there all day and watch old CSI reruns?
Katniss: Yep. Do you have a problem with that?
Peeta: I do, actually. Cake Boss is on.
Katniss: That’s a real shame, huh?
What I don’t love: Katniss’s utterly traumatized nature at the end of Mockingjay. Peeta’s hijacked state. Gale’s whipping. Haymitch’s reliance on wine. Prim’s explosion. Finnick’s tragic death. Johanna’s fear of love. Effie’s unfair treatment. Rue’s untimely death. Mags’s death. Madge’s disappearance. Delly’s inability to see things as they really are. Greasy Sae’s destroyed business. Hazelle’s traumatized state. Darius’s transformation into an Avox. Cinna’s horrifying death. Octavia and Venia’s mistreatment. Caesar’s Capitol state of mind. Boggs’s death. Annie’s madness. It hurts to watch people whom you love be mistreated. It hurts even more to watch them die. I cried over Primrose for two days before telling myself that she was never alive in the first place. But then again, she lives in us, does she not?
I also don’t love President Snow, Cato, Brutus, Enobaria, Mrs. Mellark, Thread or President Coin. Their flaws are fairly obvious.
All in all, I love the Hunger Games, and I can’t say that I’m particularly sad to be reliving them as my mom dives into the reading. Actually, now that my time with the series is up, I’m heartbroken. But as you know, lovelies, I never was unable to reread a good story…
Roses are white,
Nightlock is blue,
It’s called Catching Fire,
Not “Hunger Games 2.”
Anxiously waiting to see Catching Fire (with tears showering my laptop),
Aquinnah