The Hunger Games

I finally did it. I read The Hunger Games trilogy.

The youth at our church have been clamoring for me to read Suzanne Collins’ series for years, but the waiting list at the Dallas Public Library for these books is perpetually so long I keep wadding up my interest and tossing it in the nearest trashcan.

However, my eldest niece showed up to our shared vacation spot this past week with all three books in hand. She was gracious to loan everything hungry, on fire, and flying to me for a few days so that I can now hold my head high in the youth room.

Everyone was right. The books are hard to put down once you start reading them, but I won’t opine on dystopian fantasy nor bore you with my impressions of Katniss and Panem and everything in between. I also refuse to comment on the plot, because, if you are anything like me, you don’t want to know what’s going to happen in a story until it unfolds on the pages before you. Part of the fun of reading a new story and immersing yourself in an alternate reality is playing cat and mouse with the author’s foreshadowing.

I will, however, draw your attention to one line of societal commentary which is revealed through the conscience of the story’s protagonist:

I no longer feel any allegiance to these monsters called human beings, despise being one myself…Because something is significantly wrong with a creature that sacrifices its children’s lives to settle its differences…who does it benefit? No one.” (Mockingjay, 377)

I don’t think anyone in our own nation today would argue with the protagonist.

Except when it comes to abortion.

Because, in our own dystopian world, it is okay to sacrifice a child’s life, period. No unsettled differences need even apply.