I admit, the first time I read The Hunger Games, it was from a small Apple Tree screen, and my first time reading from an electronic device. And I was spinning up the long and vomit-inducing roads of Cameron Highlands.
Sufficed to say that I was impressed by the book, despite the headache and nausea the journey brought on. So impressed that I tried looking for the sequels, failing until I got to the KLCC Book Fair, where I got the trilogy in one go. By then, my interest was as fiery as the ice-tipped peak of Mount Everest. Naturally, I put off reading it until very very much later.
And to think that all this was before The Games went viral.
By the time I finally got my arse down and finished the whole HG series in one go (where, ironically, I finished in the car on a nine hour journey to the north), I was beating myself over the head. How could I possibly have ignored the series for other more insignificant stuff, like fanfiction? I'd do better stuffing my head into the sand looking for worms when a whole tank of wriggling invertebrates awaits, right above me.
The series, at first take, was wonderfully hunger-inducing. Literally, too. I flipped through the pages in a frenzy, dying to know what comes next, dying to see a little Peetniss action, to hold on to that hope that the characters can't seem to find. I remember smiling every time those two lovebirds show a little PDA, and debating with myself whether I love handsome fiery Gale more, or steady affectionate Peeta more. It was heaven and hell.
The first book was exciting, the second amazing, and the final one phenomenal.
The way Collins weaved it all together, the girl who volunteered to protect her sister, the one that seemed so vulnerable compared to others, the impossible circumstances she's thrown into, and finally the spark that led to a fire. I especially like the string of words -- she don't know the effect she could have. I was devouring the pages so fast that my cheetah was jealous of my speed. It kept me up at night, salivating for more, wondering if there could ever be a happy ending for a plot so bleak.
But it did give me a happy ending, sort of. The first take anyway.
The second time I read it, which is, like five minutes ago, it brought on different emotions. The first time round, it was all fire and awe, all "yes, attagirl!" and "No! Not Peeta!".
This time, without the hunger for the characters' unknown destinies, I'm mopping up all of the details I've missed the first time round. The deaths that escaped my notice, the words to the songs she sings, the choice of words Collins used that brings on thousands of emotions. There were no excess words, no complicated twists of word choices. Simple, straight, but deep.
And this time around, there were a lot more tears. Every death, or a hint of danger, of separation was enough to trigger a bout of salty water. Every single death, be it momentous--like Cato's, or brief--like Boggs or Mags, impacted and resulted in a loss of water. I think I'm probably severely dehydrated now. Even the mention of Katniss' father can set me off.
*checks myself* Yup. Severely dehydrated.
I couldn't help but pay attention the way Collins bring up Katniss's dad. When Peeta went bonkers from being hijacked, but somehow recognised Katniss' dad's singing. How Katniss curled up and felt so alone with only her arms to offer a semblance of safety. "I miss him so much it hurts."
And there were so many more. How Mags--intelligible Mags with her cute mumblings--took Annie's place and accepted her own death as inevitable. Boggs, who trusted Katniss, who had a child and a weird sense of humour. Finnick, dead from the mutts right after his short-lived happiness with Annie. Cinna, the genius stylist, who was at Katniss' side right from the start, trusting her, and helping her even after his death.
The price war has to pay. The reminder that human lives are so insignificant.
And then there was the Hunger Games, how it all started with one Game, to remind people of the rebellion, and how the new president wants to end the war with another Game, because it ain't enough that the guilty pays for their crimes with death. It's like an assassin killing a murderer because 'it's immoral to take another's life'.
I don't know, there are so many thoughts running through me while the saltwater threatens to stain my book, so much that I'd probably bore you out. But I must mention how adorable Peeta is, struggling against the monster within himself after his hijack. How he stayed with Katniss till the end, understanding, always there. I notice his use of "always" to Katniss' "stay with me"; which of course leashed my thoughts to Snape like a shark to blood.
And the way he always seems to know what Katniss needs, in words or actions. I love the idea of the Who's Who book in the end, to create a semblance of normalcy, to recreate--however pathetically--those who are gone and all the memories associated to him or her. It's sad, in a way, but at least it gives people a bit of relief at being able to hold on to a small part of whoever's gone. Sort of.
I've always been useless at letting go. It appeals to me, this holding on to a part that's gone. At least you'll have something, instead of cold cruel nothing.
Sighs. Peeta's just so... steady. So comforting. He's like the tree in Katniss life, always there for her to hold on to, but never really noticed until gone. Where Gale is... well, Gale's --in Katniss's words-- Gale's fire. He's hot. In both the literal and metaphorical sense.
*swoons*
Anyway, I'd better end or I'll never stop. I'll leave off with a song, The Hanging Tree, and let you ruminate on the meaning of the words.
Because at certain places in certain times, death is a much better state to be in.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where they strung up a man they say murdered three?
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it seem
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where the dead man called out for his love to flee?
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it seem
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free?
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it seem
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me...
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it seem
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
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