I just spent five days reading all three books of the Hunger Games and feel a little as if I have arisen out of a fictional fog. Let me add that I did, in fact, care for my family in that time, but I read far further into the night than was good for me, and found ways to be reading and doing chores at the same time. Not exactly a good life plan, but it was better than sitting in the bath tub until my toes hurt from the pruniness and my tailbone ached, like I did back in my childless days.
I can honestly say I haven’t been this captured by a book since the Harry Potter series ended. With the entire Hunger Games trilogy being slightly fewer pages than a single Potter novel, it’s an easier read for a mother of small children, but my final conclusion, at the end of the trilogy, is disappointment.
Not with the writing. Oh my word, I would give a limb for that kind of talent! The stories were well written, the characters well drawn, the chronology internally consistent and the plots believable – within the established reality of the novels. I loved the way she used the present tense to create the ongoing sense of urgency that drove me to keep reading. I LOVED Peeta from the beginning and he is the only character I truly loved all the way through the entire trilogy. I really enjoyed the books
But when the last word was read I was disappointed because you can’t write a story of redemption without knowing the Redeemer. You can’t write a story of hope unless you know the One who gives hope. I felt like she got as close to a happy ending as she could but in the end all I could think was, “Grace changes everything, and this story need the gospel of grace.”
So. What are your thoughts?