The Hunger Games series has been the defining piece of dystopian fiction. 17 years later, it is still a pivotal piece in popular culture that is being discussed and dissected. And now, Suzanne Collins is adding a fifth addition to the series, Sunrise on the Reaping.
Set between The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes and the original trilogy, Suzanne Collins has promised readers that this new book will explore Haymitch’s Games. Particularly looking at themes like propaganda, disinformation, and how governments suppress information to control the general population.
In preparation to read the new book, I reread the others in the series. As an adult, my views on some key moments have totally shifted. Do the books match my memory? Or is it time for me to admit that some parts just don’t stand the test of time?
The Ballad Of Songbirds and Snakes was boring.
For some people, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes was compelling. It’s a story that allows readers to explore Coriolanus Snow and his complex emotions before he becomes the villain in the original trilogy.
Through Snow, readers are given a wider glimpse into the political commentary and dystopian themes that made the series so popular. This book explored themes like manipulation, power, and the use of entertainment to control the masses, resonating with current events and offering readers a deeper understanding of how society works within the world of The Hunger Games.
The book was a snooze fest the first time I read it two years ago, and this time I couldn’t even make it through before I decided to DNF. The prequel tries to humanize Snow by showing his early years and what life was like for him and other Capitol citizens after the war.
Here’s the thing, I believe that main characters don’t need to be likable in order to have a compelling story (Walter White, anyone?). But literally, any other character would have been more interesting. Snow is unsympathetic, has no redeeming characteristics, and is morally ambiguous — traits that are better shown on screen and not in a book where we are given his thoughts.
At least in the movies you can see why people believed he was a good guy. He is a young student, decent looking, and the son of a military general who died in war. The book, told from Snow’s perspective, does not offer any of this.
Instead you are given the perspective of someone who is toxic, manipulative, and will do anything to win, even if it costs a friend’s life. We do not see him struggle in any significant ways or have conflicting feelings throughout the book. It’s 528 pages of Snow seeing everyone around him as beneath him, as pawns to get him further towards his goal: restoring his family’s wealth, getting into college, and getting his family to the comforts they experienced before the war — even though Snow himself would not have remembered much of these comforts.
There is nothing interesting about reading a story about a rich, good looking, white man struggling with rich white man problems. And sure, you could argue that it shows how privileged people are complicit in cycles of oppression because it keeps themselves comfortable but again not once does Snow or other characters acknowledge this point. He was unsympathetic, toxic, and manipulative. There is no redemption for that.
Catching Fire is the weakest book in the trilogy.
The second book in the series follows Katniss and Peeta back into the arena. The concepts of this book are interesting. We get to explore more of life in the districts and the Quarter Quell twist is as gut-wrenching as it is a genius way to stop dissent among Panem’s citizens. What makes this book drag, similarly to The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, is its structure.
The second book in the series features very little dialogue compared to the first. Instead, much of this book is Katniss telling us what’s happening around her and not showing the readers what’s happening through her interactions with the world.
This is another example, again like The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, where the movie shined. We are shown an outsider’s perspective of the district and Panem that is visually stunning and much more engaging than the books.
Mockingjay is the best book in the series.
Mockingjay, on the other hand, is the best book in the series. It gives readers a glimpse into how life in Panem functions, what resistance looks like, and through Katniss’ love interests, Gale and Peeta, how cycles of violence repeat themselves. The book does not shy away from the inhuman choices people have to make in war. It is not a neat or satisfying conclusion where good triumphs over evil and the heroes get their happy ending handed to them wrapped with a pretty bow. Instead we get a conclusion that examines the morality of war and rebellion, and how people can fall into the same violent traps as their oppressors.
Ultimately, I believe The Hunger Games is widely misunderstood. While it may seem like a series that is just about politics it’s really an exploration of how oppressive regimes sustain themselves, how cycles of violence and hatred continue, and how people are not individuals but products of circumstances outside of their control. The series is not just about fighting back. It directly questions if rebellion alone is enough to break the cycle of violence that has plagued humans since the beginning of time. As Plutarch Heavensbee says in the end of Mockingjay, “Now we’re in a sweet period where everyone agrees that our recent horrors should never be repeated. But collective thinking is usually short-lived. We’re fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction. Although who knows? Maybe this will be it, Katniss.”