In light of the upcoming movie, a review of The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins is in order. Having just finished the book (and its sequel, Catching Fire), I am still in that reverie of reliving what most impacted me. As the general story is probably familiar to most and will be common knowledge after the movie's first weekend in theaters, I'll just devote a few lines to what stood out.
The inside of the jacket worried me a bit when it read, "equal parts suspense and philosophy," as I am not a huge fan of "philosophical" fiction. That is, given the postmodern state of morality and reasoning that has been building over the last century I was concerned about running headlong into intense scenes of the metaphysical and the existential, and probably a good deal of Western Civilization-bashing. But while the West does get knocked a bit, what I actually found was an exciting work tastefully flavored with insights into the flaws of our society that serve more as warnings than declamations.
Take the games themselves. Brutal gladiatorial matches are as old as tyrannies, but the setting and the delivery of the Hunger Games (the titular games event) are frighteningly familiar to contemporary audiences. Although the brutality and heartlessness is sometimes enough to turn one's stomach, the whole event eerily jives with our own culture, thriving as we do on MMA fights and reality TV shows like SURVIVOR and ORANGE COUNTY CHOPPERS. In most dystopian/post-apocalyptic stories that feature death-matches, the lowing crowd has the good grace to treat such combats that just that: a hearty bloodletting, each death celebrated by harsh guffaws and the swilling of hard liquor. But in the Capital of Panem, the rich fops ooh and gasp and faint from anxiety over the performance (for that is all it is to them) in tones uncomfortably familiar to American ears.
Then there's the Capital. As a freak show of high fashion and self-indulgence, the society is one big West-bash opportunity. Yet while I read about the garish costumes and the flippant habits of the Capital citizenry, I was struck more by the alien element applied to American life, as seen through an essentially American girl. While Katniss’ reaction to the pop-cultured Capital citizens is one of disgust, the narration does not wax preachy on consumerism or the notion of high living. Rather, it is the attitude of the society that she finds so repellent. Of particular interest to me was the scene when Katniss observes her prep team’s reactions to the whole event: rather than think of the children duking it out for the audience’s pleasure, Katniss explains, “it’s all about where they were or what they were doing or how they felt when a specific event occurred … everything is about them, not the dying boys and girls in the arena.”
Which offers a brilliant segue into the morality of Panem. In a fiction setting, whatever veneer is placed over the picture triggers the audience’s acceptance of reality. Thus the mystique of Ancient Rome allows viewers of Ridley Scott’s GLADIATOR to watch with satisfaction as Maximus hacks and slashes his way to glory with no moral consequences and no justification necessary. Likewise, by placing The Hunger Games in America, by having the characters ride trains, watch TV, and drink hot chocolate, author Suzanne Collins establishes Judeo-Christian morality as the defining measure of right and wrong: murder is evil, slavery is abhorred by the enslaved, and loyalty valued. Though cast in a sort of Dickensian pauper mold, Katniss' world is our world and Katniss is us. She lives by our rules and dreams our dreams and when she sees other Americans going about their lives without a care for the injustice inflicted upon the innocent in this caricature universe of Western indifference, she is repelled. And that, I think, is the most winning quality of Katniss Everdeed.
Panem represents what our Western world has been and what it might yet become if a valiant few are not willing to catch fire. As Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel said, “the opposite of love is not hate. It is indifference.”
