The Hunger Games: Feeding my fears, my pain, my need for read.

Over the week of Passover, I managed to read consume devour The Hunger Games trilogy. It was a gift to myself since it’s been 5285467245 years since I had time to read and I figured it would take a month or two of here-and-there breastfeeding time to finish the series.

Holy crap, I was wrong.

I literally consumed those books, I think some of the pages are still stuck between my teeth.

Needless to say, it blows Twilight out of the fantasy universe. I can’t believe I even felt the need to add that here. You had me at Twilight blows.

But this – this actually kinda kicks taps Harry Potter’s ass. Ok, I love my HP like the next inner-child, and JK Rowling did an excellent job in the details.

But the overall philosophy, issues of morality, ethics, pain, future, life and death – there is so much to be said for what Suzanne Collins created. It’s complete with all the complexity, pain and suffering that Harry Potter lacks, going way deeper and darker than Rowling ever did.

This isn’t really an official review. I don’t have the energy after such painfully delightfully painful reading to go into all of it. What it did to me. My inner-child. The fact that I have children. My obsessive morbidity.

I just had to shout this much from the mountaintops. High on Panem.

I can’t wait to read them again.






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