The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins: A review

I don't usually read Young Adult fiction for the very good reason that I am not a young adult, but my younger daughter who is, and who is also a librarian, gave me this book and recommended that I read it. She liked it and thought it was something I might enjoy. Well, she didn't steer me wrong about Harry Potter so I decided to give it a chance, and she was right again. I did enjoy it.

The novel, as most of the reading world knows by now, is set in the dystopian landscape of what was once known as North America. The society that we are familiar with has been destroyed by a combination of man-made and natural disasters. Rising ocean levels have reduced the size of the continent to a shadow of its former limits. It is now the country of Panem which consists of a shining Capitol, set somewhere in what was once called the Rocky Mountains, and twelve Districts.

Each of the Districts has its specialty. District Twelve, located in what were formerly called the Appalachian Mountains, specializes in the production of coal. Its people, like the people in most of the Districts, are poor and live on the knife's edge of starvation. It is from this District that the story's protagonist, Catniss, comes.

At some point, there had been a rebellion in the Districts against the Capitol and, after putting it down, the Capitol keeps the Districts in line and reminds them of its all-powerfulness by demanding a "tribute" from each District every year. This "tribute" consists of two children, a boy and a girl, between the ages of twelve and eighteen. Each living tribute must fight to the death against all the other tributes on live TV, which all the other citizens of Panem are forced to watch. These are the Hunger Games.

Each District's tributes are selected by drawing their names from all the eligible ones at a public ceremony called the reaping. When Catniss is sixteen years old, she attends the reaping, as all citizens are required to do, with her mother and twelve-year-old sister, Primrose. When the girl tribute's name is read out, to Catniss' horror, it is Prim's name. As Prim walks to the stage, Catniss jumps in front of her and offers herself as a volunteer in her stead. This is allowed and so Catniss becomes a participant in the terror of the Hunger Games.

After the books that I've been reading lately (The Canterbury Tales, The Cat's Table, etc.), this one seemed very simple in structure and language. It was an easy and quick read, very fast-paced and hard to put down once one got into it. Suzanne Collins describes her settings and her characters very well and gives us empathetic characters to root for, an important feature I think for a YA book.

This is the first in a series of three books, again as all the reading world knows, and the trilogy was among the top ten books that were challenged in the past year, according to the American Library Association. The books were challenged for being anti-ethnic, anti-family, insensitive, having offensive language, occult/satanic references, and violence. The only part of that that I saw in this book was violence, but it was appropriate to the story. Reading the book was my way of doing my bit for celebrating the freedom to read in Banned Books Week.

I think that I probably will go on to read the other two books in the series. Not right away though. I need a break from dystopia and teen-age angst.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

Search This Blog