For the past two weeks, I have been pretty much consumed by everything Hunger Games-related. Of course, many people have been talking about the book series for years, and with a renewed vigor since the previews for the first movie started circulating. When it got to the point that it seemed like everyone beside me had read (and loved the books)—including my friend, Liz, who probably hasn’t finished a book since the days of Dr. Seuss—I decided I needed to see what the buzz was about. Liz says that I’m “alternative,” but I think I just have a natural skepticism to things that too many people like. Still, you can only remain in the dark so long.
Two weeks ago, I bought the first book in the trilogy at a bookstore on the way to my Sunday afternoon soccer game in Brooklyn. About 40 pages in, I was reading the book as I walked to the intersection on the lower west side where my carpool group was meeting. I think I actually sighed when a friend from my team called my name and told me that the carpool spot had changed. Now, I have to talk to her while I wait for the driver to show up. Except I didn’t, I just kept reading. I would have read during the car ride if it didn’t make me feel like I was going to throw up. I took the subway home from the game, partially because the D train was running without a million diversions and transfers into Manhattan, but mostly because I can read on the subway without getting motion sickness. I didn’t even try to be polite to the friend from my team who was also riding on the D back to Manhattan. When she asked me about some television show, I told her that I don’t really watch television, which is actually true. I think she understood my silence, though, because she had already read the trilogy.
I finished the first book that night, bought book two at the Barnes & Noble across from my office building the next day, and convinced one of my bosses to read my copy of book one. I started book two and my boss bought book three the next day for us to share. On Thursday morning, my boss emailed me to say she had finished book one. I hadn’t finished book two yet because of a few conflicts that came up like soccer practice and Austin coming home from Vegas and wanting to tell me about his trip. I did my best to act interested and surprised by the “madness” of Vegas, but it all seemed a little tame compared to District 12 and the arena (Hunger Game references). Whatever.
So, obviously, I had to finish book two that day. My boss needed it, right? I decided to take book two into our weekly company meeting that morning, but it was only about 45 minutes that particular Thursday and I didn’t even get the full 45 minutes of reading time because I had to occasionally look up at people who were speaking. However, I did finish book two at my desk after the meeting. (No one from my office is reading this, right?) I felt a little guilty about finishing the book at my desk, but I only had about 20 pages, which took me all of ten minutes to fly through. When I confessed to my boss that I finished the book at my desk, she replied that she thought I was going to finish it at our company-wide meeting that morning. Woops. Apparently the agenda packet that I placed over the red hardcover wasn’t very good camouflage.
I didn’t get to finish book three last weekend because of a host of other happenings and some very important visitors: one of my very favorite people in this world, the southern beauty, Vera; our always entertaining friend, Ian; my adored younger cousin, Samantha Brown, who says I never blog about her, even though I do; my parents, who brought half of Costco with them; the infamous Grammy and her handsome sidekick, Grampy; and the one and only, RKSoPitted himself.
Last weekend kicked off with Steve (who went to Vegas with Austin, along with a few other guys) telling me the “real” story of Vegas, which you could say was a little different from Austin’s version. Friday night then dissolved into a series of pitchers and Steve talking to a grandmother who somehow happened to find herself at a sports bar on the Upper East Side, alone. Saturday began with brunch on the Upper West Side and a song that goes like this: “I like drinking with [insert name here] because he’s my best mate. I like drinking with [insert same name] because he’ll down it in 8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1.” After all the guys had chugged a couple of Bloody Marys and a few screwdrivers, the rest of the restaurant caught on and decided to play, too. I’m sure the waiters loved us.
Our lovely group then proceeded to get kicked out of three bars. The first, over a celery stick that one of our friends (who shall remain nameless) took off another party’s plate. The second because the bar was feet from bar one and owned by the same company and the bouncer from bar one walkie-talkied the bouncer of bar two and told him not to let in the guy with the purple shirt or any of his friends. So, maybe bar two doesn’t count. And to be fair, the third bar we actually left on our own will because the bartender wouldn’t serve the guy in the purple shirt. It was about 5 p.m.
At that point, RKSoPitted joined the crew and we all decided that we needed a change of scenery so we headed east. I could tell that RK was dubious of how the night was going to turn out, but the change of scenery was just what everyone needed. Until the kid in the purple shirt got kicked out of that bar a few hours later. At that point, our friends decided that it might be time for him to go home so a couple of them accompanied him after a pit stop at Tasti-D-Lite, of course, where it is rumored that said purple shirt guy bought two large ice creams. I only saw one large cup in the video footage, but it is entirely possible that the first had already been devoured at the time of taping.
Anyways, last weekend was great but I had to stay up until 1 a.m. (late for me) on Monday to finish book three. You probably guessed, but it was worth it. I saw the movie with my boss this week. (Yep, basically the best boss ever.) The movie was entertaining and I thought the world of the book was well imagined. Ultimately, though, it was kind of disappointing, which is so often the case with books that become movies. My main gripe was that I wasn’t fond of the casting and portrayal of Peeta, who just wasn’t as charismatic on the screen as he was on the page for me. (Or, as good looking.)
After the movie, it hit me that the trilogy was over for me. I’ll never read it again for the first time, get to know the characters and their world without scenes from book three and images from the movie flashing before my eyes. And it was such a thrilling rush to read for the first time. The books weren’t perfect (albeit, of course, for me to tell Scholastic or Suzanne Collins how to edit their books), but they were page-turners in the best sense. The pacing was masterful—the end of each chapter begs you start the next. And I’d argue that the books were thoughtful and relevant. (As if they need a positive recommendation from me to start selling.)
Because I’m such a nerd, I spent most of this weekend talking about the books. I think I managed to bring them up in conversations with four different people at a party last night, three of who were strangers. Most of the conversations went well except for the one when I started talking about the brown bag that I attended last week on dystopian literature (and the Hunger Games trilogy). I think I lost/scared the guy I was talking to when I started saying how I could see our world dissolving into a dystopian state somewhere in the near future and definitely when I proceeded to go into details. Too dark for an après-ski themed party? Woops.
Speaking of books that everyone loves, you should read Arcadia, which has gotten rave reviews from pretty much every publication worth caring about. It is a beautifully written book that follows a boy who grows up in an imperfect and troubled, yet emotionally rich hippie commune in western New York State in the 60s and 70s. The author, Lauren Groff, brings the decaying mansion, Arcadia House, around which the commune is centered, to life and thoughtfully examines a tragic and hopeful utopian dream from its origin through its heyday and beyond. I dare you to Google this book and find a bad review.
And the book video of the week, of a much different flavor than the one for White Girl Problems, is hands down, this one for Heaven Is Here by Stephanie Nielson. I may be biased because my company is publishing this memoir and it’s the first book that I have helped see from acquisition to bound book, but try to watch this video and tell me you’re not moved. Book comes out in stores April 3, but you can preorder ASAP.
