Suzanne, please don't write another Hunger Games book
The series is perfect. Fight me.
I tried not spoil anything but maybe read the book and then fight me?
I was 19 in 2008 when the Hunger Games came out. Maybe a little older than the target demo, having just aged out of eligibility for the games, but young enough to still see myself in the imperfect, unreliable main character. I’d lived through the Bush administration and had just voted in my first presidential election, finding myself filled with optimism in an underdeveloped pre-frontal cortex sort of way.
Which is to say, she caught me, hook, line, and sinker.
Upon first read, I too fell for the love triangle, the will-they won’t-they. I mourned the loss of the found sister and blood sister, my own little sister being my best friend. Katniss was more than a mere symbol, she was the revolution. The districts rose up and defeated the capital in a beautiful, thrilling, three-act story. I read the books, like I do any series that catches my attention, quick and without stopping. It was then shelved literally and metaphorically to the recesses of my mind.
The movies brought back a newfound interest and once again I returned to Panem. But the films, geared squarely for the PG-13+ crowd, were watered down in comparison. Good adaptations, but in the way that all films can only delve so far into the book worlds that inspired them. In the text, we dive into the details in a different way. We get to know these characters intimately, they become family. We hear their thoughts as they make courageous and cowardly decisions, act selfish, or raise berries to save a boy in fearless act of rebellion. And when making something palatable to the masses you often lose the finite intricacies of the message.
I remembered only the hope, not the lessons woven throughout the text.
I did not initially read the Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, the 2020 prequel to the initial series. Unfairly, I assumed it was a cash grab or some retroactive fan-service. I was incredibly wrong. After rediscovering the series through the audiobook rerelease read by Tatiana Maslany**, I was hungry for more and dove into the latest book. What I found was a new, haunting perspective. As someone who roots for love and for people to become better, it was deliciously torturous to watch Snow fail to make the right choices. It was terrifying watching myself be won over by his charm, knowing full well how the story ends. It became clear that Suzanne really only writes when she has something to say.
**This tangent deserves its own paragraph. If you are new to audiobooks or are debating reengaging with this series, I highly recommend this version. Tatiana is masterful in her voice acting, not surprising when she’s the actor who portrayed numerous and varied clones on Orphan Black. Each character’s voice is unique, different, and identifiable. There are no caricatures, only honesty. It sets the bar for audiobooks so unbelievably high. And she really hits her stride in Catching Fire.**
I found myself rereading the series with this new background information and coming in with a whole new perspective. I wasn’t 19 anymore, I was 35. I wasn’t a college student with endless life ahead of me; I was a grown adult, working fulltime, married with a dog. And I was pregnant. I didn’t so much see myself in Katniss anymore, but in Haymitch and Effie, in Cinna and Boggs. When I read it now, I read it with all my lived experiences and the however many years have passed.
And that’s not to say that wisdom only comes with age; there is a unique clarity that comes with youth, and I was much more practiced at analyzing texts in my teen years. But I believed Katniss; I trusted her perspective. I’ve come to realize how much more was going on that she (and I) simply weren’t paying enough attention to.
When Sunrise on the Reaping was announced, I predicted it’d be about propaganda. I did not realize how very spot on that would be. I whined that I didn’t want to see Haymitch’s game. “We already know everything; we watch the recap in Catching Fire.” Oh, to be able to look at my past self and call out her complicity.
Collins said “you haven’t been paying attention; class is in session.”
Propaganda. Resilience. Rebellion. How long it takes to change a broken system. The conditions required for a spark to become a flame. Bystander’s guilt. So on and so forth.
I’d never call the original books subtle, but this one seems to scream at readers. Themes aren’t hinted at, they are shouted. Part of this book’s magic is showing just unreliable Katniss was, and what we as writers missed. This book is the first time we get a normal person’s account (Katniss being a weird loner and Snow being a weird, loner, psychopath). Haymitch has friends. He has a love, a job, a family. He is a normal, 16 year old, and through his eyes we really see the horrors of the Capitol.
I’ve cried reading books before, but I can’t remember the last time I felt so gutted. This book left me empty. Blaming postpartum hormones would be easy, but I know its more than that. Suzanne Collins has a knack for cutting through to the human experience, for making you see yourself in these characters and feeling what they feel. Down to the last gumdrop.
It’s torture; I love it.
Online discourse includes pleas for more books. And to that I have to ask, why? Finnick is one of my favorite characters. He is charming, boyish, and madly in love. He is flawed, broken, and honorable. I could write a love letter to this perfectly imperfect character. But what would we gain from his book? We’ve learned through Sunrise how susceptible we as readers are to the Capitol’s propaganda. All his book would teach us is that he was so much more a victim than we were led to believe. Seeing the gruesome details of his trauma, sexual exploitation, and abuse won’t spare him from his fate in Mockingjay. And the lessons learned would be weakened reiterations of those we’ve already received. Repetitive, thinned out, and less poignant.
But its not just his story people want heard. Some want depictions of each of the 75 games, some want the dark days. To that, I say, you haven’t been reading close enough. This isn’t a story about gore for gore’s sake. These are tragedies, with the lessons soaked in every word. And in Sunrise, Suzanne forgoes all subtlety. There is no denying Snow’s intention (but Tom Blyth is so hot, they say). The cruelty of this level of control is apparent in every character. The pain of reading how good people can be so blinded by the things they believe and how the masses can suffer for it.
The Hunger Games series and its prequels give us the story of District 12 and its people. We see the district’s three/four victors and how they were treated, how they survived, and how their stories evolve. We see what is passed on through the years and what is lost. Multiple generations work and suffer and strive for a better tomorrow. And it takes years, not everyone sees it, but there comes a day where the sunsets on the Hunger Games and peace is found.
This series is layered. This new book adds myriad connections and throughlines we didn’t realize were already there. Every detail is worthy of a deep dive and ripe with substance:
Why is District 12 in Appalachia (look to the history of rednecks, unions, racism, the Melungeon people, the list goes on)
How does our upbringing change our perspective (the hunter versus the baker)
The removal of color as a means of control (Lucy Gray’s view of 12 versus Lenore Dove’s versus Katniss’)
The significance of Haymitch and Effie meeting before he’s a victor
Perhaps it’s freeing to finally have a tangible example of the overwhelming woe that is ever-present in today’s America (we are Haymitch, we are not capitolites). Perhaps this will kick off a collection of Hunger Games analysis (in this essay I will explain why Madge Undersee is one of the most important characters in the series - who? they say). Perhaps she’ll release a book from Plutarch’s perspective and once again I’ll have to admit that I was wrong, that there was more to learn from these characters.
Suzanne, your books have taught us how important empathy is. They’ve taught us the importance of community and the power of hope. I will read them again, and again, and again. I find something new each time I do. But this perfect three act story is just that, perfect.
Take us to a new world when we have something else to learn. Let the districts enjoy the peace they so rightfully deserve.
That said, I will engage with anything she creates. In Suzanne we trust.
Time to put on Little Bear for the baby (she wrote that too y’all - this woman raised us).