Reviews
Unexpected Direction, but Perfection
This was a brilliant conclusion to the trilogy. I can only compare it to "Ender's Game" - and that is extremely high praise, indeed.
When I first closed the book last night, I felt shattered, empty, and drained.
And that was the point, I think. I'm glad I waited to review the book because I'm not sure what my review would have been.
For the first two books, I think most of us readers have all been laboring under the assumption that Katniss Everdeen would eventually choose one of the two terrific men in her life: Gale, her childhood companion or Peeta, the one who accompanied her to the Hunger Games twice. She'd pick one of them and live happily ever after with him, surrounded by friends and family. Somehow, along the way, Katniss would get rid of the awful President Snow and stop the evil Hunger Games. How one teenage girl would do all that, we weren't too sure, but we all had faith and hope that she would.
"Mockingjay" relentlessly strips aside those feelings of faith and hope - much as District 13 must have done to Katniss. Katniss realizes that she is just as much a pawn for District 13 as she ever was for the Colony and that evil can exist in places outside of the Colony.
And that's when the reader realizes that this will be a very different journey. And that maybe the first two books were a setup for a very different ride. That, at its heart, this wasn't a story about Katniss making her romantic decisions set against a backdrop of war.
This is a story of war. And what it means to be a volunteer and yet still be a pawn. We have an entirely volunteer military now that is spread entirely too thin for the tasks we ask of it. The burden we place upon it is great. And at the end of the day, when the personal war is over for each of them, each is left alone to pick up the pieces as best he/she can.
For some, like Peeta, it means hanging onto the back of a chair until the voices in his head stop and he's safe to be around again. Each copes in the best way he can. We ask - no, demand - incredible things of our men and women in arms, and then relegate them to the sidelines afterwards because we don't want to be reminded of the things they did in battle. What do you do with people who are trained to kill when they come back home? And what if there's no real home to come back to - if, heaven forbid, the war is fought in your own home? We need our soldiers when we need them, but they make us uncomfortable when the fighting stops.
All of that is bigger than a love story - than Peeta or Gale. And yet, Katniss' war does come to an end. And she does have to pick up the pieces of her life and figure out where to go at the end. So she does make a choice. But compared to the tragedy of everything that comes before it, it doesn't seem "enough". And I think that's the point. That once you've been to hell and lost so much, your life will never be the same. Katniss will never be the same. For a large part of this book, we see Katniss acting in a way that we can only see as being combat-stress or PTSD-related - running and hiding in closets. This isn't our Katniss, this isn't our warrior girl.
But this is what makes it so much more realistic, I think. Some may see this as a failing in plot - that Katniss is suddenly acting out of character. But as someone who has been around very strong soldiers returning home from deployments, this story, more than the other two, made Katniss come alive for me in a much more believable way.
I realize many out there will hate the epilogue and find it trite. At first, I did too. But in retrospect, it really was perfect. Katniss gave her life already - back when she volunteered for Prim in "The Hunger Games". It's just that she actually physically kept living.
The HBO miniseries, "Band of Brothers", has a quote that sums this up perfectly. When Captain Spiers says, "The only hope you have is to accept the fact that you're already dead. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you'll be able to function as a soldier is supposed to function: without mercy, without compassion, without remorse. All war depends upon it."
But how do you go from that, to living again in society? You really don't. So I'm not sure Katniss ever really did - live again. She just ... kept going. And there's not really much to celebrate in that. Seeing someone keep going, despite being asked - no, demanded - to do unconscionably horrifying things, and then being relegated to the fringes of society, and then to keep going - to pick up the pieces and keep on going, there is something fine and admirable and infinitely sad and pure and noble about that. But the fact is, it should never happen in the first place.
And that was the point, I think.
Just think of Peeta's "hijacking" as a metaphor for what nihilistic anti-war propaganda does to 'Mockingjay'...
First, I want to establish that I adored the first two books--I've read them multiple times and recommended them constantly at the bookstore where I work; I read them aloud to my husband, gave them to friends and relatives, and I've looked forward to Mockingjay's release for MONTHS! Once I got the book I didn't read it for several days--a little silly, but I realized I didn't want the story to end.
I should have kept to that instinct, because I have finished the book and now I just feel sick. I don't want to own it and I don't think I'll ever re-read it.
It wasn't even well-written! I don't say this off the cuff--it wouldn't be fair to criticize the book this way simply because I didn't like the ending--but it's true, and here's why:
**********SPOILER ALERT*********SPOILER ALERT***********SPOILER ALERT***********
It was predictable and contrived. Collins created lots of expendable characters (Hi there, Team 451!) and then spent most of the book killing them off. It reminded me of the third Pirates of the Caribbean movie, where characters whose names you don't know are being killed left and right so you know this is SERIOUS without having to lose a major character--it's a cheap trick, and I expected better of Collins. And cheating like this doesn't actually work; it was so unlikely that she was going to kill off Katniss, Gale or Peeta in the middle of the book that it didn't really create the suspense she was going for. Prim's death (and Finnick's) could have been used much more thoughtfully; instead we had a blitzkrieg of constant attrition to remind us that THIS IS WAR. It wasn't evocative--it just made me feel numb.
This endless dying is interspersed with even-more-endless strategy and technical details. I repeatedly found myself skimming, which never happened with the previous two books. But these passages were so boring(!), and I kept hoping to find that Katniss had figured out a purpose or an orientation or had reached out to Peeta or even just accurately assessed something--but no luck.
Which brings me to character development, relationships, and philosophical reflections on values and motivations. They were vital in the previous two books, but they are nearly nonexistent here, and the book is fatally flawed because of it. Peeta is barely present, and if you discount the time that Katniss spends crying in corners, injured and in the hospital, taking morphling, or being manipulated or controlled by others and wandering around confused, she isn't really present either. And Gale is unfairly characterized in order to resolve the love triangle--it's baffling, because Katniss of all people isn't in a moral position to judge Gale, and I thought that was part of the point.
Ultimately, the story is hijacked--hey, that's a good metaphor!--by anti-war propaganda and a damn-near nihilistic outlook. I understand that Collins wanted to communicate that war and violence aren't glamorous. I think she's right. But (ironically) she's done real violence to her characters and the merit in the world she created in order to bludgeon us with that value.
In a way, you could call this book "more realistic". And yet--I think a book that accurately reflects the gritty horrors of war would show how people use dark humor as a coping mechanism. This book had none of the wry humor of the previous two.
And for pity's sake, what was Collins trying to achieve with the ending? I agree with those who say that Katniss agreed to a renewed Hunger Games featuring the children of Capitol citizens in order to get the opportunity to stop Coin--it's the only thing that makes sense, given what Collins is clearly trying to convey, and it fits best with the character of Katniss. But it's not made explicit in the text. Leaving this up to conjecture was a major error on Collins' part, or very bad editing. It's not wise to be subtle in the philosophical part of the book that is meant to put the heavy-handed part into some kind of context.
And the last four pages, where we finally learn: Peeta or Gale? An afterthought. I think what is worst is that by making this choice, Collins makes the war the only important part, the only real part of Katniss's life--all the rest calls for is a brief summary. Almost all injury, very little road to recovery (those "real or not real" conversations were one of the few highlights of the book). It's baffling to me that this tacked-on ending is still fairy-tale-esque (that is, Katniss did settle down with her True Love and have children). But why bother giving her this semblance of a fairy-tale ending when it's so clear that she's DEAD INSIDE? It could have been insightfully ironic--though that's a little sick--but it's not. It's just empty. Apparently, once you've been in a war, nothing--not even consummation of true love or the birth of your children--can bring you joy ever again.
I think the vital counterpart to accurately portraying the horror and corruption of war is the possibility of redemption, of pursuing redemption. And Collins set this up but didn't follow through. Both personally and politically, through all of 'Mockingjay' Katniss is reduced to this calculating, empty creature. Her reflections on putting those she loves before herself (as she does with Prim in the first book, and Peeta in the second)--her major arc as a dynamic character? Utterly gone here. She makes, what, TWO efforts to reach out to Peeta? Three? She realizes she should be doing better but makes barely any effort to do so. I suppose it could be argued that the war left her no time--though her repeated willingness to kill Peeta to save her own skin blights that rather--but afterwards? There's no mention of her interest in making it up to him. Even when she later has leisure as a wife and parent, post-war, to reflect on these things, she doesn't. Politically, too, she never finds a motivation--such as "a world where Peeta's child can be safe"--to sustain her. Her own survival (as Gale bitterly notes) seems to be her top priority--though hell, she's not even sure she wants that; she seems a lot more concerned that her death be a quick one. Great. Katniss is Everyman--a broken, broken Everyman. For pity's sake, I'm tired of the GROWNUP literature that shows us the depth to which the human spirit can sink--I don't need it here! The main perk of young adult literature is that you can have both good writing AND a hero who can inspire you by example to rise above and triumph. To my mind, the purpose of good YA lit is to explore dark topics in a meaningful, well-written way that doesn't leave you in a bog of existential misery. If this is the brave new world into which young adult literature is heading, let me say now that I want no part of it. I can re-read '1984' and 'The Road'--or pick up 'They Shoot Horses, Don't They?'--anytime I want. In fact, the former are fine examples of how a book can be serious, gritty, and disturbing, and still satisfying. But if you're going to make someone sit through this near-nihilism, essentially conveying that neither individuals or humanity as a whole can never really change, they deserve capital-L Literature for their trouble.
I just wish I could go back and warn myself not to read this. I've never been interested in fanfiction but I think I'm almost willing to look some up, if only to get the taste of this out of my mouth.
Yes, I read all night...
If The Hunger Games and Catching Fire are tales of a dystopia, then Mockingjay is a slight departure for the series. This final chapter in the trilogy is a war story. Panem is at war. The stakes for Katniss and the band of characters that we've grown to love (and sometimes hate) have never been higher. And while Suzanne Collins' work on this series has been masterful to date, she rises to the occasion to give her story the conclusion it deserves.
As the novel opens, Katniss and hundreds of other refugees and revolutionaries have been taken in by the citizens of District 13. The rumors were true, but District 13 is both more and less than anything she could have envisioned. While safety is a fluid concept in Katniss's experience, she is what passes for safe at the moment. Still, she is tortured by thoughts of Peeta, being held prisoner in the Capitol. And she is tortured by too many ghosts. We're introduced to a somewhat more fragile Katniss in this novel, and she is not the only character in a somewhat diminished state. The events unfolding around them, as well as those of the past few years, have taken a heavy toll.
It is in this final chapter that the surviving characters must wage a battle for the future of Panem. Ms. Collins has never shied away from depicting graphic violence and disturbing scenes, and this novel may be the most disturbing yet. For me, the life and death struggles that occur in a war resonate more painfully than a staged fight to the death. There's no denying that this is a dark tale. It is even more impressive, therefore, that Ms. Collins manages to infuse enough humor into the book to occasionally relieve the gloom, and to remind us why we love these characters in the first place.
This third book is a departure in other ways. The pace of the story-telling wasn't quite as breathless. While still very much a thriller, in some ways Mockingjay allowed itself a bit more time to explore the emotional lives and constantly shifting relationships of the characters, as well as the full ramifications of the dangerous situations in which they found themselves. The emotional aspects of Katniss's tale have never been given short shrift, but there was a greater expansiveness here, perhaps owing to her increasing maturity. Of course, fans are waiting with bated breath to learn the outcome of the Katniss-Gale-Peeta love triangle. There is a resolution, one that seemed like the only possible outcome to me. The ending of the book is satisfying, not always happy, but deeply satisfying.
Perhaps the best testament I can give Mockingjay is to tell you that this 41-year-old, responsible, gainfully-employed woman read it from cover to cover between 1:00AM and 7:00AM this morning. Not for one minute was I in danger of falling asleep. I think it's going to be a long time before a story inspires me to want to pull a stunt like that again.
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