Hunger games

Warning – this post contains spoils. of the “here’s what happens at the end” type.

So… Much as I would love to pretend that my book collection is full of serious, historical tomes, I have a small guilty confession to make. Hidden away, between Churchill’s history of the Second World War, L.T.C. Rolt’s groundbreaking works on industrial landscapes, and a comprehensive library on motorway history are some (admittedly borrowed) colourful paperbacks.

The Hunger Games.
Like a school kid at a resteraunt, or news round at a press conference, they stick out like a sore thumb. Now, part of me is quite happy to openly profess my love for this trilogy. Having just read the second and third books in 36 hours, there is definitely something addictive about them. The prose flows like a wild river, always dragging you on, rushing ever onwards to another page, another chapter. It possesses a quality many books strive for but can’t achieve. Like umami, it’s hard to describe, but obvious and irresistible when you have it in.
And yet… Something doesn’t feel right. If its pages of text skimmed over for their pointlessness, an ongoing feeling that the lead character is just a pain in the butt, or an ending that is monumental in its lack of closure. Every page enthrals and infuriates me. Every sentence draws me in whilst kicking me out.
On top of all this, there are the films. Untrue to the books, simplified, and almost overwhelming. Now, I know that there’s only one film out, but whilst writing this I’ve watched the trailer for the second films enough times to know what’s going to happen…
Part of me – the inner snob, the part that actually studied, the part that still has a list of interesting academic books in the university library – wants to burn them, and all knowledge of them.
Another part, the part that has to get up in the morning, wishes that I wasn’t reading till the early hours.
But the biggest part, the inner kid, is already queuing for November 22nd. And sometimes’ just once in a while, you have to let go of your inner boring-ness, remove the curfew on fun, and just be true to yourself.

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