Book Review: The Hunger Games

A while back, Dri read the Hunger Games trilogy.  She kept mentioning to me that these were books I needed to read, but I wasn’t fully convinced that I had the time or the interest.  When the movie came out to theaters, she told me she wanted to go see it, and I agreed to go.  The problem was, I’ve always had a “read the book first” approach to movie adaptations.  If I was to stick to that, it was time to sit down and at least read the first book of the series.

I dug into The Hunger Games on Sunday evening.  I finished it just over four hours later.  The next night I cracked open Catching Fire, the second installment.  And on Tuesday, I wrapped up the third and final book, Mockingjay.  Three books in three days.  In my defense, I’ve always been a fast reader.  But I suppose it’s rather obvious that the storyline successfully captured my attention.

I really did thoroughly enjoy the series, so I thought I’d write down some thoughts I had on each book over my next few blog posts.  I wrote “Book Review” in the title of this post, but that’s probably not very accurate.  My intent is not to do a synopsis or give a recommendation as to whether or not you should read it.  I’d rather discuss a few thoughts I have on the construction of the narrative and the underlying (and substantive) subtext.  To do so will require a thorough examination of the plot, which means I’ll be assuming you’ve already read the series for yourself.  If you haven’t but would like to, don’t read on.  There will be spoilers.

[hr] Prior to reading the book, I had cobbled together a few basic components of the story based on what I had seen or heard from others about the books or film.  One of these components was a love triangle between the main protagonist and two boys.  That sounded eerily similar to another recently popular book series — one that I had very little interest in.  I suppose that accounts for my initial hesitation to jump into The Hunger Games.

I was pleasantly surprised by what I found.  Katniss and her evolving (and at times confusing, even for her) relationship with Peeta is a prominent theme throughout the first book, no doubt.  But her struggles with her family, her fellow tributes, and her government (not to mention the vast amount of moral ambiguities that she faces in the arena and beyond) are equally, if not more compelling.

One thing I immediately noticed was the first-person present tense method of storytelling that the book employs.  It’s jarring at times, but in the end, I think it serves the story well.  You experience everything as Katniss experiences it, which allows more insight into the difficult (if not impossible) emotions, situations, and choices that her character is facing.

I have a special place in my heart for most “first installments” of a given series, because the creator, author, or director must spend ample time introducing you to the universe they’ve created. In Harry Potter, you experience the wonder of the wizarding world right along with Harry. In The Hunger Games, you likewise peer through Katniss’ wide eyes at the grandeur of the capitol and its citizens, as well as the scope of the brutality associated with the games themselves.

Perhaps it’s because I work in media for a living, but one of my favorite elements of the first book is the focus on what a production the Hunger Games are.  Endless outfits, makeup, preparation, interviews, and propaganda.  It’s a show, and a  lot of it is staged and manipulated.  Katniss quickly realizes that playing to the audience works in her favor, and she spends almost as much energy and effort towards this end as she does trying to eliminate her competitors.  Furthermore, the book paints an unflattering picture of the capitol population’s fascination with suffering and death as a form of entertainment.   You can’t help but wonder if our real-life culture’s obsession with reality television means we’re not all that different.  I’d be the first to admit that my favorite part of American Idol in recent years has been watching hopelessly untalented hopefuls make fools of themselves in front of a national audience.  It’s not child violence, of course, but is humanity sliding down that slippery slope over the course of a few hundred years really as unbelievable as we’d like to think it is?  After all, gladiatorial-style games are already a permanent part of our human history.

One frustration I had after completing the first book is that the narrative seemed to find an easy way out rather than forcing Katniss to make difficult moral decisions.  She kills in the arena only after she (or her ally) is directly threatened.  The rest of the competitors take care of each other on their own.  The oft-mentioned (and most haunting question) in the book is what Katniss will do when she inevitably must kill Peeta or be killed by him instead.  I found the fact that she was almost inexplicably bailed out of this predicament disappointing.  I suppose the capitol intended to force them into this scenario be rescinding their rule change near the conclusion of the games, but they gave up on it pretty quickly.  This strange inability of the capital to allow Katniss and Peeta to kill themselves is explained (and punished) in the subsequent book, but at the time seemed quite out of character indeed.

My frustration in this area, however, was short-lived.  Katniss had no shortage of difficult moral decisions in her future…  [ To Be Continued ]