"THE HUNGER GAMES" Trilogy: An Over-Analysis

Part 1: The Saga

I just came from a frazzling reading marathon of “The Hunger Games” trilogy by Suzanne Collins. This has got be some kind of a record. I finished the first book in approximately 7 hours; the second, in 8 hours; and the third, in 8 hours. Discounting the break hours wherein I had to assimilate all the unrelenting action going on, I finished the entire book series in 23 hours, thus making this one of my most lavish expenditure to date—PHP995.00 worth of books finished in less than a day. Whew.

Come to think about it, I may have been too hasty in finishing the whole thing. Consequently, I was not able to get my money’s worth because savouring the reading experience seemed too indulgent. Call me whatever, but I just couldn’t help it! I couldn’t extricate myself from the books. I pored over them like there was no tomorrow—like breaking free could actually result into a catastrophe of some sort. Yes, obsession can actually make me delusional.

My brother called me an addict. My mom would frequently come beside me, henpecking me to take a breather because according to her, reading continuously only to pause for meals was injurious to the eyes. Their relentless jeers and prattles faded into the background as I was transported into an entirely different dimension: where bloodshed is the ultimate form of entertainment; where insurgence is humankind’s only stronghold; and where true love remains an unconquerable force, a most powerful weapon that no amount of tyranny can obliterate.

I did not just read “The Hunger Games”— I lived it, I played it, and I LOVED IT.

Whenever I get fascinated with something, I usually do a little research. I came to know that the subject of the novels is not at all original. Several dystopian novels in the past, like William Golding’s “Lord of the Flies” and Koushun Takami’s “Battle Royale”, may have laid some groundwork for the ‘teenagers-killing-each-other’ peg. I have yet to read the abovementioned works, but I must say, “The Hunger Games” isn’t at all shabby and tasteless. So even if some random literary connoisseur would suddenly lambast me for the following statement, I remain steadfast on my belief that the saga is a fine addition to the genre. Fellow Hunger Gamers, help me out on this.

What made this novel so captivating that eventually turned it into a celebrated global phenomenon?

The most important variable, methinks, has to do with Suzanne Collins’ writing. She writes with so much gusto that the saga felt like it’s in perpetua mobile, thus engaging the readers up to the very end. Sure, the last chapters of the third book might have been a bit too rushed, but for a kinesthetic learner such as myself, my greatest recompense is that there wasn't a boring bit, and each chapter ends with a conflict so riveting that wanting to turn to the next page is close to inevitable. There was one time when I had to swear on to something just so I would be forced to take respite. After ten minutes of lying awake in bed, however, I was again up and about, perusing the remaining chapters in a hurried flourish until my body finally gave up. It was 2:30 in the morning. I could’ve sworn I had nightmares then—probably triggered by The Hunger Games, much like Katniss’ in the story. Too bad Peeta didn’t have a real-life counterpart.

Collins also has the talent of conjuring life to each of her character in the novels. Despite the marked thriftiness in using descriptive words, her prudent verbiage helped each character make a lasting impression on the reader, devoid of all the superfluous details that mar most of those long, dragging novels. Each character became my friend, so much that whenever they encounter an untimely demise, I mourn a little inside. The lead characters—Katniss and Peeta—grow on you, so much that reading the epilogue became an ordeal.

Finishing the book was like saying goodbye to an old friend—heart-wrenching at most, but leaves behind an entire lifetime of memories worth ruminating on.

Amazing. Gripping. Engrossing. These words have been frequently used in praises for Collin’s masterpiece. In some way, they represent sentiments that have become the understatements of the past decade. Sorry guys.

I couldn’t think of, speak of, and dream of anything other than “The Hunger Games” for the past few days. It’s official—I’m hopelessly and irreversibly smitten to the core.

Part 2: The Firsts

I had a lot of firsts in reading the trilogy. Well, my reading time is one. Never have I been so hooked to a novel that I actually couldn’t let a single night’s sleep interrupt my reading streak.

This is also the first time that I endured reading an entire novel in the e-book form (I read the first book in the 51.42mm x 76.38mm screen of my iTouch). My previous attempts always ended up in unfinished businesses that don’t even go past a hundred pages—tragic, but ultimately practical. At least my eyes remain healthy, and my mom has one less problem to cater to.

This is also the first book series that I got to read up to the very end.  No matter how hooked I thought I was with the Harry Potter series, I wasn’t able to read the seventh and final novel. Before I even got the chance to start reading it, it got entangled in a web of dreadful associations that resulted to my disinterest. (I’ll get to that story later—or not.)

Part 3: The Hunger Games—Real or Not Real?

On a more serious and a less adulatory note, the underlying theme of “The Hunger Games” and its plausibility is a matter of concern. Sure, current definitions of “dystopia” require the word ‘imaginary’. My fear however, is that with the way that things are going, dystopia may actually be closer to reality than you think.

In fact, millions of people are battling their way through a real-life “Hunger Games” each day. In the Philippines alone, one in five households - 21.5 percent or an estimated 4.3 million families nationwide - experienced having nothing to eat. Somewhere in the world someone starves to death every 3.6 seconds, and 75 percent of those are children under the age of five.

Sadly, hunger is only a portion of the real struggle they have to go through. Millions contend with abysmal living conditions everyday—probably much worse than what the people in Panem’s District 12 are experiencing. At least the children of Panem still go to school. I wonder how many Filipinos living below the poverty line even have the slightest interest in attaining a decent basic education when they cannot even fill their guts that always grumble in protestation for terminal emptiness.

Is it just me, or is the Capitol the perfect allegory for current governments that remain steadfast in turning a blind eye towards its penurious and greatly deprived citizens? Take ours, for example. Millions of pesos are squandered for the acquisition of military equipment, when the cost of a single bullet could already satiate the hunger of a chronically undernourished child. Profligate injustice—ugh, disgusting.

In a larger scale, I think the Capitol allegory works as well. Powerful nations come to mind—nations whose motives remain solely capitalistic; nations who relish the power of being able to take advantage of the resources of the otherwise dependent nations who play according to their rules. What's in it for us then, members of the third world who mindlessly cater to the whims of the first world? We participate in military exercises we could barely afford. We borrow money to compensate for our public officials’ blatant corruption. We send our people to be enslaved in exchange for the promised milk and honey. We are just like the 12 districts of Panem: helpless and yielding to the display of power the Capitol perennially exhibits.

When we read the novels, we condemn the Capitol for their shameless act of turning kids into ruthless killers for the amusement of the crowd. However, how many among us still tune into those silly gameshows that flaunt the neediness of our poor for some superficial entertainment? Do we have the sensitivity to condemn ourselves for this glaring hypocrisy?

We are just like those frilly Capitol people—no, even worse. We have become brazen, pretentious hedonists, incapable of feeling even the slightest of empathy for the most vulnerably destitute.

More than an entertaining read, “The Hunger Games” has opened my eyes to the presence of such dystopia current reality is forcing us to admit. The question, still as imposed to the youth by previous generations, remains a resounding but now a desperate dare: WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?

The future does look bleak, but I hold on to hope. As Katniss fought for what is right, I too, shall endeavor; for there is nothing more that I dream of than for the future to be brighter and happier for my children’s sake.

May the odds be ever in our favor!