About a week and a half ago, I decided to read The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. My inner geek was curious because it’s been a while since I’ve enjoyed a fictional series to the point of obsession (to me that’s the sign of a damn good read, NOT mental instability). Plus I figured that if I was going to take a break from my literary studies, I would feel better about doing so with a novel (because “young adult” fiction is TOTALLY related to the graduate field of Public Texts… right? Right).
Anyhoo, I loved it. Well, if I’m going to be snooty about it (guys, I’m an English nerd, it’s all I’ve got) I think Collins’ story is greater than her storytelling abilities… and by that I mean I think she’s created a world that’s a bit too big and fantastic for her grasp. Too often I found myself distracted from her story by prose that really seemed too simplistic; it’s like Collins’ writing style is morse code (a rather uninspiring combination of dots and dashes), but the message itself has the power to leave you on an absolute adrenaline high for days afterwards… le sigh, I just can’t help wishing that the story and its telling had been better matched. Please feel free to fight me on this (snooty) opinion down in the comments—however be warned that since it’s an argument about the Hunger Games, we’re obviously also going to have to arrange a fight to the death.
All that being (snootily) said, respect to Collins for creating a completely enthralling world that had me freaking out among the best of her hardcore fans; in fact, I’m glad I was late jumping on THG-bandwagon because I really don’t think I could have endured more than a week-long wait to see the movie. Which brings us to yesterday afternoon, when I found myself waiting in line with a dear and darling friend to watch one of the first showings of The Hunger Games (SEE MOM I HAVE FRIENDS). We kept our distance from the teenagers that had painted their bodies green (eh?), and managed to score seats exactly in the centre of the theatre (pfft to letting kids have the better seats).
The film was beyond glorious. Suzanne Collins’ story was meant for the big screen, where it takes off, kicks ass, and explores a fully realized three dimensional world that I didn’t want to leave. Yes there are changes and new additions to the plotline, but (in my humble opinion) they’re all for the better. The film adaptation fills in and goes beyond the gaps that exist in the novel, with a cast that fits their respective roles perfectly (Stanley Tucci = gold). I won’t say too much else about the film (feel free to check out the plethora of positive reviews here), other than I left that theatre absolutely PUMPED and wanting more.
But (*GASP*) there IS no more, at least for now. Which is more than upsetting because I AM A HUNGER GAMES ADDICT AND I AM JONESING FOR A FIX, PEOPLE. I am totally going through withdrawal, and it’s producing some socially-embarrassing behaviours. I have listed below a scientifically-determined list of my Hunger Games withdrawal symptoms, so my fellow Katniss-fans can be warned and take comfort in the fact that they are not alone:
1. I can’t help automatically assessing people in terms of whether or not I could beat them as an opponent in a giant arena of death.
2. I have to keep telling myself that my attraction to the fictional teenager Peeta is solely based on his sweetheart personality, and if Josh Hutcherson approached me in real life, I would in no way entertain the thought of making him a man but rather run screaming in the opposite direction.
3. Am deeply saddened by the fact that my hair isn’t long enough for a side braid.
4. I keep checking my mailbox to see if my personal copies of the second and third books of the HG trilogy have arrived–even though it’s the weekend, and I ordered them less than 24 hours ago (pfft grocery budget).
5. Pre-THG, I would have thought the following was ridiculous. Post-THG, it’s AWESOME:
6. Frequently have to fight swells of emotional despair when I realize it’ll probably be at least a whole year before the next movie comes out.
7. Am now desperate to acquire a bow and arrow (and the skills to properly use them). (They would also be highly useful in case of a zombie apocalypse, which I realize is an entirely different genre but I think it’s better to be safe than sorry.)
8. My desire to sleep in a tree is stronger than usual.
9. I keep randomly whistling this throughout my day:
10. I wanna FIGHT THE MAN! ANY MAN! BOO THE MAN!
How are you handling your post-Hunger Games experiences? Let me know in the comments!