The Revolution Will Not Be a Lot of Things

I finished Suzanne Collins' final installment of The Hunger Games the other day. I’m sure I’ll end up spinning a ridiculous epic about my thoughts and feelings, but from a bare bones perspective, my perceptions can be summed up thusly: I took notes while reading the book. That’s generally a bad sign. One, it means it took me way longer to read the book than any true page-turner ever would, and two, it means there things that were so irksome that I felt the need to write them down. For Mockingjay? You should see the ridiculous array of scraps of paper stuffed into the book-slot in my purse (a must-have for a girl with nowhere to go). Granted, it pales in comparison to the illuminated manuscript of angry scribblings associated with the Twilight series, but it’s still cause for concern.

I took my time with this book, but for all the wrong reasons. I had heard from people who plowed through it that it was disappointing and that the last 50 pages would surely elicit a furrowed brow and a disgruntled, “WHAT?” Boy oh boy, with recommendations like that, it’s no wonder I zipped through it in (!)… like a month. Ouch. After a slow, disconcerting start that turned into a confoundingly irksome middle, I found myself, at sadly frequent intervals, not…really…wanting to finish the book. I didn’t want to taint my enjoyment of the first two books with a disappointing denouement. Having now finished the novel, I’m torn as to whether or not I should have heeded these impulses.

I could go on and on about this book, but I suspect I’d just work myself into an annoyed dither. Again. Poor Annie has had to listen to my caterwauling stage by stage, all without spoiling the rest of the book (assuming it could really be spoiled). I’m going to try to keep this brief, so citing precedent, you should know that it’ll be a tome. It’s really hard to know where to begin or how to organize my thoughts on this one, but I’ll at least try to keep the stream of consciousness to a minimum.

I think my primary problem with this novel is that it just doesn’t do the trilogy justice. This is the final volume. It should be the thrilling culmination of all that’s been building over the last two books, but instead, it’s a lackluster let-down that is largely nonsensical and often boring. If this had been the third of five books, I don’t think I’d be as critical or as harsh. A middle book in a longer series doesn’t have to be all the things that a final volume does. It kind of felt like I was reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The main character (whose point of view is the only one the reader is allowed) spends the majority of the book moping and isn’t allowed a major role in most of the action. As with Harry in book 5, I was often annoyed and disappointed with Katniss in book 3. Having to sift through all that teen crap and emotional baggage when there’s a war going on just annoyed the hell out of me and seemed completely ridiculous. It kind of reminded me of the pilot for V. Seriously, mother and son are arguing about the girls he dates and school and whatnot now? Uh, you guys do realize there’s a giant alien spaceship hovering over your city, right? I’ve never been in a truly horrific situation where life and death are on the line, but I have to assume that petty squabbles and social quibbles would fly out the window. In looking at HP5 and Mockingjay, I spend the better part of both books dumfounded that anyone could possibly care about who to sit next to at lunch when such horrific things have happened and are happening as they speak. How can all this juvenile crap be going on when the world is ending?! HP5 is a far superior book, don’t get me wrong, but I just kept getting the same vibe from it in that sense. Geez, the books are even the same color. The major difference is that with Harry, that was book 5 of 7. He had two more volumes to come out of his funk and redeem himself in my eyes. Poor Katniss was not afforded such a luxury. Too boot, it made some sense for Harry to be an angsty, brooding, ball-of-whining in book 5. For Katniss to spend all of book 3 trapped inside the Suzanne Collins House of Psychiatry was completely out of character, nonsensical, and deleterious to the storyline. For the big finish, the revolution, the knock-down drag-out war, I expected a lot more fanfare and adrenaline. Collins somehow made everything seem inconsequential at a time when everything should have ultimate import. It made it very difficult to care about the story or any of the people in it. She seems to have opted for as little style and panache as possible and I can’t wrap my head around why.

In Katniss’ defense (and Collins’ further indictment), it seems that nearly all the characters I knew and loved in the first two books casually decided not to show up for volume three. I realize this is a YA novel written in first person and that effusive descriptions are necessarily scant, but I really did feel like I knew some of these characters and had grown to adore them. Too bad none of them were invited to the party this time around. It was most notable with Katniss, of course, given that she is the narrator of the story, but she is by no means the only character who seemed to have been completely reconceived by Collins for the final book. I literally spent the better part of the first 250 pages thinking, “You have got to be kidding me!” It got to the point where I was actually relieved when I’d get through a scene that wasn’t annoying, ridiculous, eye-roll inducing, senseless, or cringe-worthy. It was honestly a little exhilarating when a scene played out in a satisfying way (which isn’t to say it played out how I would have written it, but that it made any sense at all). I kept thinking to myself, “Katniss wouldn’t do that! Haymitch wouldn’t say that! Gale wouldn’t allow that!” Maybe it’s that these truly aren’t the same people I met in the first two books. They’ve been through a hell of a lot and it’s impossible to tell just how that will affect people. Maybe once you’ve survived such devastating events, it really isn’t a matter of who you are anymore because that person no longer exists. At the end of the day though, I really felt like I knew these people and I can’t imagine that they’d emerge on the other side of all this in the way that they did. Let me count the ways…

Katniss
In the first two books, I felt like she was a character I could trust. She was logical and determined and smart. No matter how horrible things got, I could be assured she would rise to the occasion and do whatever was necessary to accomplish her objective. Having lost so much to the Capitol, I would have thought she’d start off the culmination of her story with an unstoppable passion. I would have thought she’d be battered and broken and emotionally scarred, but that she would find a way to soldier on and do whatever it takes to save the people she loves. The Katniss that showed up for book three is not that Katniss. For whatever reason, Collins seemed to think it would be more compelling to turn the reluctant heroine into a weak, vaguely psychotic sob story who can barely get out of bed. Um, yay? I realize that she’s been through a lot and that she’s in an impossible situation, but that’s what happened in the first two books and she found a way to overcome. Katniss has always been motivated by the safety of her friends and family. Now, in book three, when they are all at their most vulnerable, she spends half her time hiding in a closet or sitting in a hospital bed. Ugh. In her defense, the big wigs of the revolution were reluctant to let their little figurehead do much of anything, but, well, in that case, maybe Collins should have taken a different approach to this volume, because what she came up with didn’t work. Every excuse I can conjure for Katniss is a slam against Collins. It just strikes me as completely dumfounding that Collins made the choices she did. She could have done so much with these characters and taken them in completely badass directions, and she chose to do this?! I realize that this isn’t my story and that I’m not the one calling the shots, but I’m hard-pressed to find any reason that I would go out of my way to make my narrator unlikeable to the extent that readers hardly even care is she survives the story (I’ve asked around, it’s not just me). At the very least, you shouldn’t be forced to go from respecting and trusting a character to constantly thinking, “Oh for crying out loud, you can’t possibly think that’s a good idea!” I don’t expect characters to always do the right thing and make the best decisions, but once in a while is nice. It just seems like anyone who could have survived the first two books would have been better prepared for the third. That goes for most characters, not just Katniss. In the first two books, no one carried the idiot ball, no one went upstairs during the horror movie as the audience is screaming for them to stop, and everyone was necessarily logical and strong. So the question is, what the hell do they put in the water in 13 that brought us to this?!

Gale
I’ve been a big fan of Gale’s pretty much since day one. I think I decided I adored him at the reaping when he said, “Up you go, Catnip.” I don’t know why, but I found that unduly endearing. At the end of the second book, I was super-psyched to get to see more of him. I assumed this volume would be a showcase for his character, and to certain extent, it was, but the storyline itself was so unsatisfying that it tempered his presence. I thought he’d be given a chance to really shine, but instead he’s relegated to dealing with the new and not-improved Katniss, a war that’s being fought in fairly stupid ways, and Peeta "must... strangle... Katniss" Mellark. The interpersonal dynamics were so ridiculous, particularly between him and Katniss, that I was actively annoyed for the better part of the book. For the record, my annoyance has nothing to do with Katniss ending up with Peeta. By about a third of the way into Mockingjay, I not only saw that coming, but was largely relieved by that fact. The Gale that I know and love doesn’t work with the Katniss that showed up for this volume. He can do better. It became more and more apparent that they only really worked under certain circumstances in this book. In the book’s favor, some of the best aspects of the story featured Katniss and Gale in battle. All through the first two books, as Katniss and the other tributes were trying to survive and keep Peeta alive, I kept thinking, “Geez, if only Gale were here, things would be going a whole lot better.” I was right. Seeing Katniss and Gale working together to defeat the enemy was exhilarating. There’s something so satisfying about a pair of people who share an unspoken language, who know each other’s movements so well that they don’t need a plan, and who have spent so much time together that they know what the other is thinking instantly. There’s just something about that vibe that really appeals to me. When the Capitol planes were attacking the hospital, all Katniss had to say was “Geese!” and they both instantly knew what to do. They have a shorthand that’s as useful as it is awesome. Unfortunately, these kinds of moments between the pair were few and far between because the second anything interesting would start to happen, Katniss would end up back in the hospital or being chastised for her conduct. What’s worse, Katniss’ attitude toward Gale was irksome and hypocritical. It made the dynamic between them strained and ridiculous. Seriously, we’re in the middle of a bloody war with people dying left and right and you’re going to hold a grudge?! I just don’t think that the same people who risked everything to keep their families (and each other) alive would treat each other like that… especially under these circumstances. My fondness for the two of them as a pair (either romantic or not) just didn’t translate here because Katniss didn’t translate here. Gale’s practical approach to the war was consistent with his character, but Katniss’ complete and total meltdown was shockingly inconsistent. Essentially, the pair that I adored lost any chance of making it the second Prim’s name was called at the reaping (at least as far as Collins is concerned). Whatever Collins’ motivations, she made me like Katniss so little that I would have been irked to no end if Gale had ended up with her. That’s how screwed up Katniss is in this book. Because, you know, who wouldn’t want the protagonist to completely suck it up in the end? Geez, is that what Collins is trying to do? Is that what she’s trying to say? That war is so awful that it can turn a strong, smart, beloved character into a neurotic, petty, waste of space? If so, mission accomplished.

Peeta
I’ve never been a huge fan of Peeta (or as I affectionately call his groupies, “Peetaphiles”—oh, come on, that’s funny), and I think to love this book, that was an essential missing ingredient. In fact, to really appreciate Mockingjay, I think you’d have to absolutely love Peeta. I do not. I never have. In truth, I don’t hate him or anything, I just quite honestly have no emotional attachment to him whatsoever, neither good, nor bad. I think if I truly loved him as so many readers do, the fact that the Capitol had warped his brain would have had a lot more impact and would have seemed a lot less ridiculous. For me, I couldn’t help but think, “Oh good hell, what’s next? Seriously, amnesia?” It just didn’t carry the emotional punch that it should have. I try to think of how I would have reacted if it had been a character I truly loved, and while I think it would have been emotionally gripping than it was with Peeta, I still think it would have fallen far short of devastating. For something like that? I expect devastating. I went into the third book thinking that finally Peeta would be given a chance to show off his skills in a way that would make me love him. For two books, we heard all about how great Peeta was with words and what a great leader he’d be for the revolution. Then the revolution gets here, and, like Katniss, he spends the entire time in a mental hospital. It was disappointing and anticlimactic and didn’t make me love Peeta any more than I already did. In fact, if anything, being stuck with the Peeta Killbot 5000 made things even worse. The only aspect of this that was endearing was the sight of Peeta and Gale kinda, sorta becoming friends. Sigh. It just seems that all the awesome beyond awesome things that Collins’ foreshadowed never came to fruition. Again, is that the point she’s trying to make? That war isn’t some fairy tale where the good guys win and everyone rides off into the sunset? If that was her goal, maybe she shouldn’t have included an epilogue with Peeta and Katniss watching their children laugh and play in a field of flowers… I just don’t know. Even if that were Collins’ goal with this book, I think it could have been brought about in a more powerful, more exciting, and more emotionally jarring way. Whatever reasons I come up with for why Collins did what she did, I’m met with the disappointing realization that no matter what her goal, the end result was a letdown. I think the real difference between me not caring about him for the first two books and me not caring about him here was that for volumes 1 and 2, my indifference was offset by other things—like the games. Here, we spend hundreds of pages alternating between hospital stays, photoshoots, and filming commercials and it just isn’t enough to make up for Peeta.

In spite of everyone acting out of character 80% of the time, the story itself was still absolutely predictable. Indeed, it seems the only real surprises seemed to be when characters started acting like themselves again (however briefly). When I can see the writing process behind a story or a show, I say that I can “see the strings.” Yeah, well, with Mockingjay, I saw almost nothing but strings. I don’t need to be spoonfed, I don’t need to be told what to think, and I don’t need soapboxing, thanks. Good god, some of the aspects of this book were so painfully heavy-handed, it was like reading a different author entirely. Which isn’t s to say that the first two books were subtle or anything, but there was at least some style and panache involved. It just felt like Collins didn’t trust her readers to analyze or draw conclusions. I actually liked the lyrics of The Hanging Tree, and whilst reading it, started drawing parallels between it and the story. I love getting to do that. That love was short-lived, however, because Collins then went on to explain each stanza for the next three pages of the book. Ugh. I realize your target demographic is young readers, but seriously, given them a little credit. Same goes for the stupid flashlight game with the cat. Yeah, we get it. We don’t need you to explain it all to us. It was anvilicious enough that we couldn’t help but to see it. Even if readers didn’t catch it, that’s fine too. You have to trust that some of your readers will get what you’re saying and others won’t. If you boil everything down to the point where an inbred cocker spaniel is like, “Seriously lady, I hear you,” then you’re going to alienate everyone who knew what you were trying to say five pages ago. Part of the fun is figuring these things out for yourself and it’s unsatisfying and almost insulting to be spoonfed.

I think ultimately, Collins lost sight of her strong suits. She’s at her best with action and suspense, both of which were in fairly short supply for Mockingjay. Sure, it had its moments, but it was nothing compared to the pulse-pounding edge-of-your-seatiness of the first two. I can think of only a few moments when I was chomping at the bit for the next scene, and even then, I could really take it or leave it. She seemed hell-bent on making this volume a cerebral experience, but that’s not where Collins or her characters are at their best. We checked into the Suzanne Collins’ House of Psychiatry early on, and the second we managed to escape, we’d return. Ugh. It seemed that every time things would start to get good, there’d be an explosion and we’d end up back in the hospital. Again. Poor Peeta finally gets recused, only to end up in a rubber room for the better part of the book. It was honestly 250 pages in before people finally seemed to realize that there was a war going on and that maybe, just maybe, they should be there to fight it. If Collins were more adept at writing ethical quandaries, moral dilemmas, heart-wrenching decisions, and love stories, I would have been fine with this decision, but really, it’s not what she’s best at.

Okay, I just came back to this review after several weeks of reviewing new TV pilots and I can’t really remember where I was or what else I still had to say… But, here goes…

I had heard from a number of people that the last 50 pages of the book were ridiculous so I was honestly a little hesitant to get that far. As it turns out, I was right to be wary. This is the final book of the series, the final scenes, and instead of a mind-bending crescendo of awesome, we get what I think just about every can agree was more of a, “Wait, what?” Not cool, Collins. Not cool at all. Seriously Katniss has finally (finally) made her way to Snow’s mansion, the story is finally steaming full speed ahead in the right direction, Katniss is hurtling toward her destiny and almost certain death and then, AND THEN! Huh? Seriously, what just happened? Oh holy hell, we’re in the hospital… again. Oh who am I kidding, of course we’re in the hospital again. I have a sneaking suspicion Collins simply didn’t know how the hell she was going to wrap things up from there (and even more of a suspicion that her publisher had a gun to her head in order to meet a deadline), so rather than letting the parts of the book that would actually be interesting and exciting play out, she just conveniently throws Katniss back in the hospital and gives readers the lame-ass Cliffs’ Notes version of the series climax. Disappointment squared. I was completely shocked that that’s what she chose to do. That she spent/wasted so much time following characters around as they moped their ways through the war was bad enough, but then to deny readers the thrilling conclusion that such a story warrants is just plain mean. To boot, her treatment of the final scenes eliminated all the emotional weight that should come with the deaths of Finnick and especially Prim. Seriously, some pages later, after the parachutes were dropped and Katniss finally woke up, she mentions that her sister is dead and I was seriously like, “Oh yeah, Prim died.” It should have been absolutely devastating, but instead, it just seemed like a total afterthought. The same goes for Finnick, although to a lesser extent. I realize that there really wasn’t much time to register Finnick’s death, but at least his ultimate demise could have been more interesting. He essentially dies off screen (er, off page). Too boot, I’m sorry did anyone out there NOT see that coming? Man alive, I had a feeling Finnick was a goner ages ago. Which is a real shame, because by the end of the series he and Gale were really the only people I cared about. Which should have meant that Finnick’s death would carry more weight, but Collins just didn’t seem to want to take the time. Sigh. Oh, and speaking of things that were totally obvious to everyone but the people in the book, did anyone out there really think for even a second that it was a Capitol plane that dropped the parachutes? I never had any doubt in my mind and was utterly perplexed that Katniss was in such turmoil. I’m sorry, but Katniss? Were you reading a different book this entire time? (Not that anyone could really blame you for that...)

Sigh. Having enjoyed volumes 1 and 2 so much, I really had to evaluate exactly what it was that made book 3 such a disappointment and why Collins would have made the decisions she made. I have a number of theories that help mitigate the poor choices, but ultimately, it just felt like Collins had a deadline to meet. I think with a few more drafts, this book really could have been excellent, but as is, it feels like she got cut off after the second rough draft and a blocky outline for the final chapters. My theories still do help, but most of them are difficult to support even when I tap my deepest of English major skills. One theory for her treatment of Mockingjay is that she was making a serious commentary about war and forcing readers to acknowledge that they really did delight in the horrors of the arena, just like the Capitol monsters. I’ll admit it, as horrible as the arena was, it was entertaining. By taking those characters and giving them horrendous emotional baggage to work through, perhaps Collins was trying to shine a light on what war really does to people. We see Katniss go from being a strong, confident person into an emotional mess and unstable narrator. In a way, it’s truly heart-breaking, but in another way, it’s just plain annoying. The character established in the first two books would have risen to the occasion, not imploded. Maybe that was Collins' point. We can’t really know how something so horrific will affect people and the horrors of war can destroy even the strongest of people. These are just a few of the many, many, many theories I’ve pondered when trying to figure out what the hell Collins was thinking, and they really do help, but in my estimation, no matter what Collins’ intent, she could have done so in a much more compelling way. Instead of leaving this series truly moved, I left it feeling annoyed and disappointed.

This post turned into an epic rant and I’m sorry. The book really did have its merits, it just didn’t live up to expectations or do justice to the story in a compelling way. It did its job. It ended things. And there were parts of the story that were quite strong. The final chapters leading up to the last 50 pages of “what the hell just happened?” were the best of the book. It’s the kind of writing Collins excels at. There were clever devices used, interesting character developments, and the story arc finally had some fire beneath it. Little things reminded me of what I enjoyed about the first two books. When they are looking at camera footage of themselves, one of the cameramen says that the Capitol really must not have any hovercraft because there were no aerial shots of the action—something only a cameraman would really notice. Collins looks for everyone to have value, even in unexpected ways, and I always enjoyed that. Too bad more of the book didn’t stir such positive emotions.

To sum things up, I have to mention a realization I had regarding the whole Peeta/Katniss/Gale situation. It’s exactly like the Chuck/Sarah/Bryce triangle from the first couple of seasons of Chuck. I always loved seeing Sarah and Bryce together because they are of comparable skill levels and work together so smoothly. With Chuck, it’s basically an hour of Sarah trying to keep his sorry ass alive. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Chuck (SO much more than Peeta), but at the end of the day, it’s still fairly annoying to watch him screw everything up while other people have to save him. I don’t think Chuck and Sarah complement each other in the same way that Peeta and Katniss don’t. I guess it just points to my own sensibilities though, because I'm seriously in the minority here.

I’m sure there’s more to discuss, but I’m spent. I can’t imagine anyone made it to this point in this tome of a post anyway, so ending abruptly shouldn’t be too jarring. I loved the first two books, but the third kind of managed to taint the experience as a whole. I’m hoping to re-read these one day and maybe then I’ll be able to appreciate book 3 more… you know, kind of like Alias season 3. Sigh. I think I’ll hedge my bets and re-read Harry Potter first. Solid ending to a spectacular series. Now that's how it’s done, people. (Except for the epilogue... I still take issue with that. I think it would have been better to have left if off or made it a lot simpler... more like an impression. I would have loved it if the epilogue had simply had Harry seeing Malfoy in a crowd and making eye contact or something. Nice and simple. Anyway, that's beside the point.)