In 2008, author Suzanne Collins released the The Hunger Games, a novel that took the young adult genre by storm. By the time the third novel was published, The Hunger Games trilogy had created a huge boom in dystopian young adult fiction. To this day, it is by far one of the most successful young adult book series. Similarly, the movie adaptations began releasing in 2012 and have all been box office hits.
Most people read and/or watched this series when they were between ages 10-15. Being a young adult series, this is the appropriate age range. However, I never got around to reading the books or even watching the movies. Not until now, as a 21-year-old.
Many people my age consider these books to be some of their all-time favorites. I always wondered how much of that was merit, and how much of it was nostalgia. This was a staple of many people’s childhoods, so it would make sense if those memories played a role in how dear they held this story.
I am pleased to say that I think these books have plenty of merit no matter what age you are. (Also: spoiler warning for this review. If you have also not read the series… just read it!)
The Hunger Games franchise was (and still is) massive, and has inspired virtually every sci-fi, fantasy, and dystopian series in its wake. Reading it reminded me of so many books I’ve already read, but I had to remind myself that this is the blueprint. These books shaped the modern literature that I and many others love today.
The Panem world building is detailed and thoughtful, but also understandable and accessible. Accessibility is so important with stories like this, ensuring that the importance of social and political awareness can be taught to any reader in a comprehensible way.
It is, language-wise, easy to read. The structure is clear-cut, allowing children and adults of all reading levels to have access to this story about government corruption and justice. However, the plot contains intricacies within that make it feel realistic and, at times, relatable.
In fact, I imagine reading this as a child and as an adult can be very different yet equally impactful experiences. It might be hard to truly contextualize these concepts as a child in America, but as you get older, you realize that the Capitol is not an imaginary evil, but actually quite a realistic and identifiable monster in real life.
One of the most fascinating things to watch as the series progressed was Katniss Everdeen’s character evolution. Despite being the symbol of a revolution, she doesn’t begin the story motivated in this way. At the start, Katniss’ only goal is survival. When you’re starving, you don’t have much energy for an uprising. She sees her reality for what it is, and doesn’t imagine it is changeable.
When Peeta Mellark pushes against his role in the games, Katniss doesn’t seem to understand his point:
“I keep wishing I could think of a way to… to show the Capitol they don’t own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their Games,” says Peeta.
“But you’re not,” I say. “None of us are. That’s how the Games work.”
The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins, 2008
This was a striking comment from Katniss, unfortunately left out of the film. This moment was defining for Katniss’ character and viewpoint on her life. She’s resigned herself to be at the whim of the Capital, as she feels she has no other choice. She must protect herself and her family, and it’s hard for her to see beyond that.
Then we have moments in the games that make Katniss more aware of the Capital’s corruption. When Katniss dignifies Rue’s death and takes the poison berries with Peeta, these are her first moments of true reaction to her society and the powers that be.
Then, throughout the chaos of Catching Fire, Katniss is forced to reckon with more and more of the Capital’s totalitarianism. Winning the games does not mean freedom, it simply another cage. Most of all, she is still disposable. Katniss builds up a lot of anger, but burdened with a childhood only knowing desperation to live, she initially just wants to run away.
This is not cowardice, this is reality. When you’ve been starved, beaten down, intimidated, and even threatened so many times in your short 17 years of life, how can you even begin to imagine fighting back?
I found Katniss’ resistance to revolution extremely effective in showing how difficult finding that motivation, or even realizing it’s possible, can be. This is arguably what makes Katniss such a powerful narrator, because she is so relatable, even when it’s not ideal. She mirrors our human flaws that arise in the most desperate situations.
How many of us would be immediately convinced and willing to revolt against such power? Power that has used you and nearly, gleefully, killed you? How many of us would willingly put our lives and loved one’s lives on the lines for a fight that seems so futile?
Now this is not to say that Katniss is ignorant or blind. Her narration shows that she is clearly very aware of how the Capitol maintains their power. She is conscious of it, but she naturally feels that she has to put her family first and stay alive, as most other Panem citizens do as well.
Now let’s talk about Gale and Peeta. I wasn’t quite thrilled with the idea of this story containing such a love-triangle. After the first book, I was so emotionally invested in the plot I couldn’t imagine needing to care who Katniss is or isn’t kissing.
But I actually think Gale and Peeta are more representative than true romantic interests. Peeta, firstly, represents the Capitol’s attempt at deceit and propaganda. If they can present a deeply in-love couple from District 12, then ultimately force them to murder each other, that’s the ultimate power play. Not even true love can stop from the perpetual punishment of the Hunger Games.
Their survival together is an act of defiance. After the games, the people begin to see their love story as inspiration and empowerment. Peeta represents determination and hope. As opposed to Gale, who is angry and vengeful.
Now, I think those who fervently despise Gale are wrong. Of course, his indiscriminate willingness to lie, kill, and destroy to defeat the capital in Mockingjay, the third novel, seems ruthless and detestable, but you also have to attempt to imagine the unimaginable suffering he has experienced. This is a part of a revolution. Can you blame this teenager for his anger and violence after all he’s been through? How might you feel after the starvation, punishment, and fear drilled into you your entire life?
Gale might not be “right,” but it’s hard to say he is wrong.
Mockingjay was by far the most complicated novel overall. Katniss may have been saved from the seventy-fifth games, but she has simply entered a whole new deadly challenge: an uprising. On top of that, she is without Peeta. Without Peeta, in a new and strange environment of District 13, knowing her home is demolished. And she is meant to be the symbol of hope for all of this.
In the moments where you might expect an outburst of motivation and enthusiasm to defeat the oppressor, Katniss is reasonably depressed and traumatized. This is another moment where Katniss felt so real to me. Being the face of a revolution doesn’t make you inhuman or infinitely powerful. In fact, Katniss doesn’t even want this title, power, or attention, and especially not the responsibility.
Peeta’s brainwashing was well integrated, and only logical knowing the depravity of the Capitol. Drugging him and intentionally re-traumatizing him all over again to rewrite his memories and emotions could be a psychological horror in and of itself. His healing is a testament to his character and integrity.
District 13 itself was extremely fascinating to me. At the end of Catching Fire, I predicted it might be presented as a sort of haven–a utopia in contrast to Panem’s dystopia. Luckily, there were plenty layers of nuance.
Despite 13 fighting against the oppressive Capitol, they are not above the human greed for power and control. President Coin and her administration of sorts still desperately hold on to control over their citizens, partially due to sparse resources and partially to keep everyone in check. Katniss, other refugees, and the revolution threaten the current structure of power Coin has built. It’s especially telling when President Coin intentionally risks Katniss’ life to avoid her challenging her power.
After all Katniss has been through, she sees this. Once the Capitol’s President Snow has been captured and ready to be killed by the victors, Katniss must ask herself, how is he any different than Coin? When does a leader like Coin devolve into a leader like Snow?
The choice to kill Coin instead was a heavy and powerful one.
The ending of this series represents an important thing: there is no perfect victor. The “happy” ending still is thick with Katniss’ uncertainty and wariness.
I was amazed at how both seemingly simplistic yet complex this story could be. I couldn’t begin to write about everything that stunned me through this process. It pains me to leave out other integral characters like Haymitch and Finnick, but they have their own deeply complex and unique stories that there isn’t room for here.
But now, I have two prequels to read. The Ballad Of Songbirds and Snakes is President Snow’s story, and Sunrise On The Reaping is Haymitch’s story. I think these background stories will add even more context and depth to the story I have outlined here, and I couldn’t be more excited (and a little scared).