During the few weeks I have without any textbooks or papers to worry about, I try to take advantage of the rare freedom to read whatever I damn well please. Last week, I indulged in The Hunger Games trilogy. It was quite the enthralling tale, however, a few things keep nagging at me so I thought, what better place than a near-abandoned blog to get it out in the open? Spoilers follow, so I'd avoid reading further if you haven't finished all three.
Admittedly, I was skeptical from the outset, before I had even opened the first installment. For some reason, the favourable testimonials plastered on the back cover from Stephen King and Stephanie Meyer did not fill me with a great deal of confidence. To be honest, I'm still not entirely sure what I think. Entertaining? Yes. Hollow and annoying at times? That too.
Based on what I know about the Twilight series, I can see why Meyer liked it. Both series share the withholding of sex as a major point of tension, and in The Hunger Games, the mere suggestion of sex occurs only within the confines of marriage, which is, of course, strictly of the heterosexual variety. That narrative plays itself out and unsurprisingly reinforces itself within the neat little package of the epilogue. Another similarity is Collins' portrayal a young woman waffling between two young men with the belief that she needs to choose one of them. That being said, there are some obvious differences. Collins' Katniss is certainly not a passive character. To the contrary, she is a constant source of action, which is enhanced by the author's choice of narrative style, and she certainly doesn't fit into the traditional mold of what a young woman should be. However, even so, it would be difficult to describe Katniss as a feminist character, as it often seems that she's unable to make a decision without being informed by a man (her father, Gale, Peeta, Haymitch, Cinna, Boggs, Finnick, Snow, etc.). It's also somewhat suspect that on the rare occasions in which Katniss confides in and trusts the advice of another female, they tend to be killed (Rue, Prim), though, to be fair, a lot of men she trusts are killed as well. If there's any reasoning to be found for Katniss' comparative closeness to the males within the story, we can justifiably assume that her actions are probably dictated by her desire to regain the relationship she lost when her father was killed in the mining accident, at which point, by no coincidence, both Gale and Peeta first step into Katniss' life. In the brief period following the accident when Katniss assumes the role of provider for her family, before meeting either of the two boys, she shows tremendous strength, resilience and determination, and yet, as she repeats in hindsight, she could not have survived without the help of Gale and Peeta. This might not even be a problem, except that this series seems to me to disguise itself as something of a girl-power epic. But once again, in an arena even larger than the world contained within the book, it seems Katniss is just another figurehead for the ideologies of someone else.
Aside from my discomfort with the conservative subtexts, another theme I found moderately bothersome was the thinly veiled undertone of present-resentment. A finger of blame continually rises off the page and trains itself squarely at me as the cause of the dystopian disaster called Panem. I minded it less as it grumbled along quietly under the pages but was outright irritated at the end of Chapter 6 in Mockingjay, when it was evidently decided that the message was not yet clear enough: "Frankly, our ancestors don't seem much to brag about. I mean, look at the state they left us in, with the wars and the broken planet. Clearly, they didn't care about what would happen to the people who came after them". Loaded statements to say the least, and it's not that I don't agree with the sentiment behind them, but I feel the conclusions would be better observed if the reader was left to arrive at them himself. On top of that, it seems almost paradoxical to question the state of the world within a book that is, indeed, quite entertaining for the very reasons the indulgent citizens of the Capitol find the perverse tradition of the Hunger Games so intriguing. We are certainly meant to draw parallels there, which we can take to our lives outside of the book, but I also can't help but feel slightly conflicted about my life inside of the book, wondering what kind of person is captivated by the seemingly endless murders of children. The books do invite a good deal of reflection but is it valuable reflection? Or will it only breed a new generation of Twi-hards whose main source of concern is whether they are Team Gale or Team Peeta? With the first Hunger Games movie slated for release next year, it will certainly be interesting to see.
The books are an easy, interesting read, and the plot will keep you turning the pages. I'm still on the fence as to whether I'd give them a thumbs up or thumbs down. Maybe one of each. But I suppose I recommend giving them a chance. Something to think about, anyways.
