The Hunger Games has always been an interesting series to me because it's not the type of series I usually enjoy. It's very violent, for starters. Also, the protagonist (Katniss) was not one I related to at all personality-wise. And it's just overall a very bleak dystopian series. But the beauty of The Hunger Games to me has always been in what it's trying to tell us about humanity and society. The way that witnessing the brutality that these characters experience has a way of making us consider the injustice of our own world, which we are, not unlike the Capitol's citizens, often used to overlooking.
But anyway. The point is, I can't deny that The Hunger Games is a brilliant series. And so of course, I had to get Suzanne Collins' new prequel as soon as it came out. Like the original trilogy, it's a pretty bleak read. Maybe even more so, because this time the protagonist is the actual villain from the original story, in slightly-less intimidating, teenage form. It was definitely strange to take in the events of this book through the eyes of the young Corialanus Snow, who even at his young age, is not a very sympathetic character. Still, there's a part of me that was rooting for him throughout the story, though of course I knew where his path would eventually lead.
Another one of my favorite things about this book was the twisted irony that presented itself throughout it. The premise for the Hunger Games in this case is that the 24 tributes chosen are paired with teenage mentors from the Capitol, Snow among them. What you get as a result is an abundance of moments where the teenage mentors experience "problems" before and throughout the Hunger Games, which are treated as valid plot points and concerns in the story. It's left to the reader to remain aware of the irony, because the tributes are meanwhile facing actual death sentences. But this is barely given a second thought by most of the characters. They're aware of it, of course. But the teenage mentors view their tributes more like horses in a race instead of real human beings who they can empathize with.
That's definitely true for Corialanus Snow. I know people were concerned that this prequel would be an attempt to humanize him and all the death and destruction that he caused. And honestly, I do think it humanized him. But not in a way that would make you sympathize for him. What was most striking to me about Snow's thoughts, even as a teenager, is that you could see how his life was marked by the driving motivation in his life. His self-interest. His success, his reputation. Absolutely everything he says and does is driven by this. No, he's not exactly a villain when the story begins. He's just a selfish and manipulative (and incredibly brilliant) person, who is also capable of feeling things like sympathy, and even holds himself (or thinks he does) to a high moral standard.
It was fascinating to see the disconnect between Snow's words and his thoughts throughout the book. If you only read his dialogue and saw the actions he performed in front of others, you would be convinced he was a considerate, even compassionate person. But in his thoughts, you can see his careful calculations, his brilliant way of reading people and therefore knowing exactly what to say to make himself likable and gain their trust. His world revolves completely around him, even at seventeen years old. Even when he falls in love, he never really sees the object of his affection as a real person. She's valuable because he has grown to care about her. He can't see her beyond himself at all.
It was a pretty great take on how a villain becomes a villain. And also about how people who are privileged in certain ways are often so blind to the fact that they are in fact, privileged, and unable to understand the situation of those who are not.
Overall, it's a great read because of the themes present throughout the book. Worth getting through all the violence and darkness, in my opinion - which there's of course quite a lot of.
Rating: 4/5 stars
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