For those of you who are as astute as my friend Stephanie, a quick reference to rabid monkeys is all it really takes to assume I'm referencing the second book in The
Hunger Games series, Catching Fire. And for those of you who are wondering if the monkeys were in the 4 o'clock zone, they actually were (well, the 3-4 o'clock zone, but close enough).Reading this volume of the series was a very different experience than reading the first book. In the first book, I, like Katniss, went into the Games not exactly knowing what to expect and not having a firm grasp on precisely what evils the Capitol was exacting on its citizens. In book two, everything is a lot more sinister, and while there's a whole lot going on that we know very little about, the swell of rebellion is known and clear, even if the particulars are kept tucked away by the powers that be. No one in the districts could be quite sure where the other districts stood in book one, but after Katniss staged a very public rebellion, essentially "sticking it to the man" on live TV, she became the unifying factor in a world where everything possible is done to keep people apart. While this whole concept is gripping and terrifying, I have to admit, I had a hard time reading it all. There were many times where I thought, "I want to know what happens, but at the same time, I absolutely don't want to know what happens..." I initially find that I'm as reluctant to reenter the arena as Katniss is and I find Peeta's response to the Quell annoying at best. While I understand that he was basically mandating what we all know needed to happen (as far as preparing for the Games is concerned), I'm a wallower at heart and I sympathized with Katniss and Haymitch. Hell, I'm just reading about all this, not living it, and I wanted to get completely shit-faced at the thought of going back to the arena. My reluctance to keep reading book two and the fact that I liked the first book more has nothing to do with the quality of the writing or the story, because in many ways, book two was far more accomplished and sophisticated than its predecessor. I think Collins wanted her readers to dread going back to the Games as much as the characters, and suffice it to say, she succeeded. It made it all the more clear in this reader's mind who the enemy really is and what needs to be done to take it down. In book one, I think Collins truly understood that readers would find the bloodshed and violence entertaining, just as the Capitol does. Even at the times when readers were afraid to see what would happen, it was still gripping to the bitter end. This is exactly the effect the Capitol hopes the Games will have on viewers, and as unfortunate as it is to admit, I was riveted against my better judgment. By the end of book one, however, the reader is as repulsed as Katniss is by the government's reach, in spite of the regrettable entertainment value.
What Collins does with the first half of book two is set up the Quell in such a way that even the thrill of competition is devastating to readers. The second book starts off with a slow burn. While the first book tosses Katniss and the reader into the games almost immediately, the second book allows enough time to go by that the suspense and foreboding are allowed to build. There's something even worse about waiting for the battle than actually facing it. Collins lets the reader stew in the sense of the unknown for chapter after chapter which in itself is unsettling. Nothing is scarier than the unknown and Collins uses this to maximum impact, peppering the relatively banal tour of the districts with an ever-growing sense of things to come (the banquets and parties interrupted by assassinations, and whatnot). I had a lot of theories about where the story was headed (and to a shocking extent, I was right on the money), but in terms of the Quarter Quell, I was way off. I thought perhaps the Quell would dictate that past winners had to choose the new tributes from their district (a fate worse than death for someone like Katniss), or that the Gamemakers might choose a family member of past victors. I honestly didn't want to even consider that Katniss would have to go back to the Games, but I was wrong. Oh, so wrong.
Although I can understand where the Capitol would want to throw Katniss back into the Games as a means of punishment and gory death, they had to know that she would fight and that in spite of their best of efforts, she might win again. To boot, what better way to unify the rebels once again than to have their icon fighting for her life and by extension, fighting against their common enemy? It was at this point that I started to think that Katniss might have some deep-seeded support within the Capitol. Enter Plutarch Heavensbee, stage left. The second he pulled out that pocketwatch with the disappearing mockingjay on it, I plotted out where I thought the story was headed. Unlike the first book where nearly all of my predictions were incorrect, I actually figured out the base story arc with surprising accuracy, even if I missed some of the finer points. After I heard about that watch, and noted how much time Collins spent on mentioning the watch, I assumed Plutarch was head of the resistance and that the Games were being designed in such a way that the rebels could unite against the Capitol. How that would play out, I still had no idea, and it didn't occur to me for a second that he was trying to give Katniss a clue about the arena, but the fundamental story trajectory was in the back of my mind from there on out. It colored my judgment of just about everything, including the other competitors and their motives.
The Quarter Quell was a very different kind of games than in the first book. One of the most powerful ways in which Collins changed the dynamics of the story in order to have the desired impact on Katniss and her readers was to make everyone familiar with the competitors. In the first book, the reader has a somewhat similar seat as the Capitol. We don't really know any of these tributes, and even though the things that happen are horrific, I can't say I wasn't entertained and chomping at the bit to see what would happen next. When you don't know the people involved, it's easy to seem them as characters and to ignore their humanity. Like anyone would, Katniss has an easier time dispatching of those she doesn't know very well. Even after the Games were all said and done, she didn't know the name of the tribute from District 1, in spite of the fact that she had killed him personally. It makes it easier to watch this kind of violence with anticipation and excitement. With book two, by stark and horrifying contrast, we know and love these people, and the only feeling I had in the arena was dread.
This arena is a very different animal than anything the reader or the characters has even encountered before. Holy hell, when she arrived in the arena and saw nothing but water in every direction, I literally said, out loud, on the bus one morning, "Well, that's colossally bad." The old guy sitting next to me looked like he wanted to ask, but thought better of it. Probably for the best seeing as my explanation wouldn't have made one iota of sense. For a fleeting moment I seriously had to consider the possibility that they'd be swimming the entire time. Mercifully, this wasn't the case, but it's a credit to Collins' ability to keep you on your toes that literally anything is possible. That's why, even though most of my predictions actually came true, I was still glued to the page because you can never be sure. Nothing is patent or obvious, and if you are right on the mark, it'll probably play out in a completely different way than you'd expect (once Katniss learned about the force field, I guessed that would be part of the rebels plan to get them out of there, but the whole thing with the rolls? And Finnick's obsession with counting them and inspecting them? I totally missed it). Okay, even though it's horrible and terrifying and all that, this arena is seriously badass. My theory is that the Capitol was afraid that the tributes might band together, so they decided to make the arena itself more of a threat to survival than all the other tributes combined. When push comes to shove, they wanted to make sure that certain berry-based shenanigans would be impossible this time around, and when you've got fog that turns people inside out (or whatever, I like to this of it as the Simpsons' wedge), even all the best intentions in the world might not save you. Of course, this runs the risk of killing both of them even more efficiently than the berries would have, but at this point, I think the Capitol would have been more than comfortable with that, and might even have planned on it. If you're trying to show the districts that even the mightiest among them cannot beat the Capitol, what better way to send a message than to have no one survive at all? Of course, I don't think the Capitol could have possibly foreseen everyone trying desperately to save Peeta. Oh, Peeta. Even with half the arena trying to keep you alive, you still managed to die for a few minutes.
Which brings me to a point where I must explore why it is that I can't love Peeta... I honestly have a hard time pinning it down. By all accounts, I should adore Peeta, but for various reasons, I just plain don't. I think first on the list is the fact that he's the damsel. He has good communication skills, and don't get me wrong, he comes in handy once in a while, but by and large, he's useless in the arena. When they're in the capitol, I find myself liking him considerably more, but the second they step off those silver disks into certain doom, Peeta is not the person I want by my side. Gale is. Or Rue. Or Finnick. Or Johanna. Or Wiress and Beetee. Or hell, even great grandma Mags. Every time Peeta is in the arena, I just keep pleading with him in my head, "Peeta, do you think you could you possibly go like 10 little minutes without getting hurt, or lost, or dehydrated, or ambushed, or killed, or whatever?! Please? Could you do that for me, buddy?!" Seriously, is there anyone in this second book who didn't save his sorry ass at least twice? I realize this isn't really his fault. He's the son of a baker. He never had to struggle to survive. He should never have survived the first games. Granted, he technically saved Katniss' life in the first book, but she saved his about 87 times in total, so I say they're more than even. I try to love Peeta, I really do, but at the end of the day, when we spend so much time in the arena, he's a burden. His skills lie elsewhere, in a less immediately threatening world. Throughout the entire first Games, I kept thinking, "Geez, if only Gale were here. Things would be going so much better." Indeed, that's basically what Katniss thinks throughout the first book. Although, to be honest, I don't know that Gale would have agreed to have played the game at all (which is another reason I love him). He refuses to indulge the Capitol, which is both awesome and dangerous. Peeta plays the game. Just not very well. At least not in the arena... Oh good god, I think my distaste for Peeta reached a fever pitch when they were trying to stealthily maneuver through the forest and Peeta didn't even realize he was essentially doing the Mexican Hat Dance of Come and Find Us! Being loud loud under those conditions is bad enough, but being too oblivious to realize it is just plain annoying. The only real way in which he helped them win the first Games was when he professed his love for Katniss in the interview. Again, when it comes to politics, he's someone I can respect and admire. If that declaration of love had really been a strategy, I think I would adore Peeta. But, he actually does love her. Which is irksome on a few levels...
First off, he loves Katniss without really even knowing her. At all. At the end of book two is when it really hit my why I prefer Gale so entirely. He's the only one who actually knows how Katniss operates, and he loves her for it. He complements her. Peeta doesn't. Peeta is slick with people, which is a tremendous skill to have, but he and Katniss are at odds. Opposites attract, whatever, blah, blah, blah. Peeta and Katniss just don't really work as a pair. Hell, they seem like unlikely friends to me, let alone lovers. The fact that Peeta went from basically never having spoken to her to professing his undying love was off-putting for me and for Katniss. Had it actually been a strategy for him, one that turned into something more, I think I would love him more. But as is, he's just this lovesick puppy who fell for a girl he hardly knew, and even after all they've been through, she's someone he still doesn't know. Some of the things he says to her and some of the things he does make me sure of this. The simple fact that he can't anticipate her reactions or read her very well confirms this in my mind. He just doesn't understand her and doesn't know how to make the two of them work as a pair... and yet, "You're all I have to live for! I can't live without you!" Blah, blah, blah. All his caterwauling just seems so thin and unrealistic. His level of devotion is the kind that needs time to build in order to be real and a boy's wayward fantasies about a girl he hardly knows just doesn't cut it for me.
Peeta seems entirely unaware of himself or those around him. Maybe it's that he grew up comfortably, but he just seems to sort of float through situations. Which isn't to say that he's inert, because he certainly isn't, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that he just goes along his merry way assuming he knows what's best for everyone else, even though he doesn't really know what he or anyone else actually needs. He has always had his own best interests (or what he believes to be Katniss' best interests--which all leads back to his own interests again) at heart. One of the primary reasons I don't love Peeta is that he has this almost macho sense of duty to protect Katniss. Uh, sweetie? I hate to break it to you, but she ain't the one in need of protecting. It makes it feel like he thinks she's weak, and for me, that points not only to a level of patronizing condescension that drives me absolutely batty, but also to the fact that he doesn't know her at all, and hasn't sized up his own situation in any sort of logical way. He has sized it up the way a protective boyfriend would size it up. Irrationally. At every turn in book two, as with book one, I think to myself, "God, if Gale were here, things would be better." He knows her. He trusts her. He knows that she can take care of herself and that he isn't a burden on her. That's where I find comfort. That's where I see love between two people. They trust each other. Entirely. And even though Gale is in love with her and she's in love with him (whether she can admit it to herself or not), they still have each other's backs in a professional way (for lack of a better term). If they were together, it wouldn't just be lovers, it would be a true partnership, and that is what I find endearing. While Katniss and Peeta are secretly scheming at almost every turn, Gale and Katniss are honest with each other. Neither Katniss nor Peeta believes he/she can trust the other, so they keep things secret and lie liberally. What a cute couple!
Gale and Katniss seem to be on the same page of the same book. They found each other because of shared priorities and circumstances. I think this is the foundation of where I find them so much more compelling as a pair than Katniss and Peeta. Even before the terror of the Games were inflicted on these people, Katniss and Gale found common ground and forged a relationship that is infinitely more dear and more intimate than anything she's ever had with Peeta. I have heard that people who share trauma often experience a sense of attraction afterward. And to be honest, there's certainly something to be said for shared pain. No one can really know what Katniss went through besides another tribute and I think this is the basis for Katniss' equivocacy. She and Peeta do share something that she and Gale never could. But as far as I'm concerned, the trauma sustained before the Games is at least as terrible, even if not so immediately deadly. Katniss and Gale had to keep their families alive in the face of starvation, disease, and death. I can't help but to think of them risking severe punishment and capture in an attempt to feed their little brothers and sisters while Peeta frosted cookies and baked bread. It's not Peeta's fault he never had to struggle to survive, and the fact that he gave Katniss bread is the most endearing thing he ever did, but until the Games, he never knew what life in the Seam really was. Katniss and Gale looked into the gaunt faces of starving people every day and did something about it. They risked everything to provide for their families, even going so far as to add their names to the reaping dozens of times so their siblings wouldn't have to. They didn't just save their families, they helped support an entire community. That's a bond I can truly respect and that is why I love Gale so much. I wish I could love Peeta (given how many more pages he gets to grace than Gale), but when stacking the two up against one another, I have my winner.
When I first started reading the book, and the sense of dread started to creep in, I didn't flip to the back of the book to make sure Peeta survives, I had to make sure Gale survived. Only after glancing at a few pages near the end and seeing Gale's name (in a speaking capacity) could I bring myself to keep reading. By sharp contrast, when Peeta went tromping headlong into the force field (in spite of Katniss' warning) and died, there was no panic in my mind. I don't know if part of that was the assumption that the author wouldn't really kill him off (because I think we all know, with these books, no such assumption can be made), but I was completely unconcerned. My reaction was more along the lines of, "Huh. Peeta's dead. Well that was... anticlimactic... Anyway, movin' on!" But of course Finnick knows CPR, because he's not useless. It's weird, because I genuinely don't hate Peeta, and quite frankly, in many ways, I respect him, but I simply feel very little emotional connection to him. Again, when we're not in the Games, I like him infinitely better. Telling everyone he loved Katniss helped save them in book one, and telling them she was pregnant was beyond awesome in book two. I literally laughed out loud on the bus where a different old guy looked at my funnily. But in the Games? Well, him getting offed by a force field just seems like a quick and clean way to get a horrendous burden off everyone's backs. It would have been fitting, in a way, that he would be killed in such a pedestrian fashion. Katniss, and here, everyone else on the planet, has spent so much time and energy keeping him alive that it would absolutely apropos for something like an invisible force field to take him down. Something that's practically intangible and, until the bitter end, seemingly unbeatable. The fact that Peeta didn't notice it is the other reason this would have been an appropriate demise. Peeta never should have survived the first Games and but for the extraordinary efforts of the entire population, wouldn't have survived the second Games. He isn't a fighter. He isn't a survivor. At least not in terms of the arena. He doesn't notice things. He isn't stealthy or silent. He isn't a killer. The fact that he knew exactly as much about the force field as Katniss did, but wasn't paying enough attention to see what he was walking into is vintage Peeta. He isn't aware of his surroundings enough to make a match with Katniss. Gale would have seen the force field. Gale wouldn't need saving. Gale isn't a damsel. I hate damsels. Especially damsels who don't know they're damsels. It's one of the major reasons I was so annoyed with the Twilight series. Bella was useless and needed constant saving. How annoying is that? Don't get me wrong, I love Peeta more than Bella (uh, by a long shot), but their basic constitutions are the same. Damsels. At least Peeta has worth. He does have skills. He has things to offer. Just not in the arena. I'm hoping that in the book to come, Peeta's real talents can shine and he can establish an identity that doesn't revolve around a girl he hardly knows.
I loved that Katniss thought the others were saving him because he'd be a good leader but instead they were forced to save him in order to keep they're real leader alive. Of course, if they had told Katniss about the grand plan here, things probably would have gone a bit smoother, even if it would have been an entirely different book. Seriously, not telling Katniss anything was a huge risk. At various points, she was poised and ready to kill Finnick, Johanna, Beetee, and even Peeta, her allies and the big lug she's been trying to protect all this time. God, imagine if she had killed one of them. She would have done so with good reason (I couldn't fault her logic at any turn), but the fallout would have been devastating. I put myself in her shoes and it makes me sick. The powers that be keeping her in the dark could have been devastating. She would have had to live with killing someone who was trying to help her. Killing a friend and ally. For someone like Katniss especially, for whom debt to others is a deep-rooted concern, that would have completely destroyed her. The fact that she had been lied to was enough of a blow.
That they didn't tell her the plan is galling at best. I understand why the characters didn't think they could tell her, and they're right, but at the end of the day, Katniss couldn't know because Collins didn't want the reader to know. And with good reason. She wanted us to question everyone's motives just as much as Katniss did. For lesser books and lesser authors, I'd be upset that the writer had to come up with some lame reason Katniss couldn't know so that the reader would be surprised, but Collins' reason is actually spot on, so I can't really argue. If things went pear-shaped, and there was every probability that they would, Katniss would be the first to be interrogated. If she knew anything at all, the capitol would find ways to get it out of her. No matter how strong someone is, there are always ways. While I can understand their motives in not telling her the truth, I think a little would have gone a long way. Few things suck quite as much as being duped. It's a unique combination of feeling stupid, humiliated, and pissed off beyond belief. Even though I don't think anyone is laughing, being conned always makes it feel like everyone is laughing at you or just simply thinks you can't handle the truth (which is patronizing on a global scale here). I can see where Katniss is absolutely face-clawingly furious. Being told, "This is why we don't let you make the plans," repeatedly doesn't help either. Even when it's for the best, being kept in the dark and put through something harrowing elicits the same response. Disgust. In other media, it's often presented as a test, and it always pisses me off. It's like that episode of Buffy where the council takes her powers away and tests her against Zachary Craylick. Or on MI-5 when they test the operatives with a fake biological attack. Or hell, even that episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation where Deanna Troi is testing to become an officer and they come up with some unwinnable situation for her to face. Finding out it wasn't real is devastating. That they didn't think they could trust Katniss was infuriating, even if I have to admit that I couldn't always trust her myself.
With this book, I was presented with the first instances where I couldn't totally trust Katniss' judgment. It's really not her fault at all though. Her thought processes were still clear and logical and she was given no evidence or reason to think otherwise. The difference with this book is that I figured out the grand plan way faster than Katniss did and in a way, that was kind of frustrating for me. As mentioned, the second I saw Plutarch's watch, I immediately thought to myself, "Oh my god, he's a rebel! He's going to help take down the Capitol!" Based on little more than a watch, there's no logical reason Katniss should have jumped to the same conclusion. People in the capitol used the mockingjay as nothing more than a fashion accessory, and wasn't Plutarch the be all and end all of what the capitol stood for? Quite frankly, had Katniss jumped to the same (albeit correct) conclusion that I had, I probably would have been upset that she was so trusting. She didn't trust Plutarch (or any of her fellow tributes), and there was really no evidence she should. She was given absolutely no good reason to trust anyone. Who am I to question Katniss for distrusting certain people? Just because I spent the better part of the book assuming I had sized people up correctly doesn't mean that I actually had. I trusted Johanna and didn't believe she had attacked Katniss, but Katniss couldn't see it. Again, it's hard to condemn Katniss' assumptions, even if they were wrong. I wasn't the one lying on the jungle floor bleeding. Indeed, as I was reading that section and thinking to myself, "Katniss, she's trying to help you!", my assumptions were more on mark than Katniss', but not by much. I thought Johanna was making it look like Katniss was nearly dead in order to draw out Brutus and Enobaria so that she could take them both out with axes. I thought she was using Katniss as bait. Turns out, she was simply removing the tracker. So, while my base assumption was right on the money, it turns out I was just about as confused at Katniss as to what was actually going on.
The same goes for Finnick. My darling Finnick. I had a good feeling about Finnick from pretty early on, but I couldn't have just as easily been wrong as right. Annie and I even discussed at length what Finnick's motives might be and who he really was. I had a feeling that he was one of the rebels and that his playboy ways were all for show. I somehow got the sense that he had a very deeply rooted allegiance to his people and that with District 4 if full rebellion, I trusted he was on Katniss' side for real. But, after hearing Annie's evidence to the contrary, it would have been easy to have gone either way. Quite frankly, after the first book, Annie and I were both right about the same issue, even though our assumptions were opposing. With these books, you can just never be too sure. I was so relieved to be right about Finnick though. I love Finnick. Yes, even more than Peeta. I love that Finnick adores Mags and does everything to save her. I love that he's this gorgeous playboy, but that his heart really lies with the poster child for PTSD back home. As the book wore on, my real concern was that Finnick wouldn't make it out alive. That's where a lot of my wrath over Katniss being lied to comes from. She very nearly killed Finnick because Haymitch and company saw fit to keep her in the dark. That would have been a tragedy on a number of levels. Good lord, why can't I love Peeta?! I know I've spent the better part of this rambling, ridiculous post explaining why, but somehow Finnick, who just showed up and might be trying to kill our heroine, is immediately more endearing than Peeta is. Seriously, what is wrong with me?
I'm summing this up, I promise, but I just need to discuss one more major point. If the rebels' plan was to take out the force field (I was right!), then why weren't they a lot more concerned with keeping Beetee alive? I realize that they needed to keep Katniss, the very symbol of the rebellion, and Peeta alive (by burdensome extension), but Beetee seems to have been the true key to all of this and he very nearly died! The rebels had to know that the wire would be there for Beetee because Plutarch made sure of it. With this in mind, wouldn't it have made more sense to have risked everyone's lives to save him? And Wiress, too. She's the one who figured out the mechanics of the force field in the first place. Was that Johanna's job? To keep them alive? Was she just lying when she said that she kept them alive for Katniss? I just don't know what to think...
Collins does a hell of a job keeping you on your toes. Even when I'm pretty sure of something, I'm just as sure that I might be totally wrong. She does a wonderful job of keeping things in the first person and only giving us Katniss' experiences and perceptions. Having to wonder at people's motives just as much as your heroine is exhilarating and frustrating and a wonderful way to read a book. I'm excited and terrified for book three to come out in a few weeks. I really hope I find a way to love Peeta because I really believe Collins fully intends for her readers to love him. I honestly think that outside the arena, I'll be able to appreciate him a lot more. Collins has been alluding to him being the voice of the rebellion for a good long while, so I trust he'll really come through for us. I always like him best when he's playing the role of politician and master manipulator, so maybe a love for Peeta is in my future, even if I can't say that's a real prediction yet. My first actual prediction for Mockingjay? I think Effie is going to be the key figure in the grand finale. To have someone who is so seemingly shallow and devoted to the Games and Capitol come through in the clutch would be completely awesome. I can't wait! Second prediction? That I won't be able to stop myself from glancing at the last few pages to make sure Gale survives. I'm pathetic. I know it.
