Tuesday, August 7, 2012





Normally, I am deeply suspicious of anything the American media goes gaga over. Cough...Lady Gaga, Justin Beiber, Vikram Yoga...cough.

However, a the corporate world makes one do a lot of things, and one fine day, when I could not bring myself to stare at the bright white lights and Excel sheets of my steel and glass office any longer, I went ahead and downloaded the first book on my computer. (Yes, illegally. Yes, so shoot me.) And decided that I had to go ahead and read the rest of the books.

So, that's what I did. Downloading the next two installments surreptitiously. Reading them during lunch breaks. Reading them during boring days when the head felt like exploding. And Mockingjay, the last of the trilogy that I finished a while ago, was worth every bit of stolen office time.

It is strange how Collins steals up on you, unawares. The first book, you like. The second book, you aren't so sure, but you can see what she is getting at. The third book, quite literally, stops you in your tracks.

 There is no redemption in the dystopic, Orwellian plot. No neat resolution of all issues concerned. No happily ever afters with a neat little bow at the top. The numbing violence that started at the first book goes on...and on...and on. And even though you want it to end at one point, you know the author won't take the easy way out, that she won't play to the audience. Because violence, once it is unleashed, is uncontrollable. A faceless, nameless beast that devours everyone in its path and isn't satisfied still.

I wish Collins would write more books, especially for young adults. Teenagers need more words like these in their lives.

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