The Hunger Games
I had no plans to read The Hunger Games. I harbored no secret desire to crack open a novel that could be located in the “young adult” section of the local book store. Truth be told, I usually avoid such pop fiction, treating it was as much regard as I do to steamed cauliflower, concert ticket surcharges, and my neighbor’s yipping dogs.
But then the movie came out, and soon started breaking box office records. And this little movie, based on a book that can be found in the backpacks of middle schoolers everywhere, was suddenly the topic of the day in newspapers, on TV, and on the internet. Scholars were debating the finer points of the plot, and the media were contemplating “what if” scenarios should fiction ever turn into reality.
“Shoot,” I thought, “I’m going to have to see what all of the fuss is about.” And so off to nook.com I went, downloaded the novel, and found myself greedily consuming the story is just over two days.
I hate to admit it, but I must. It pains me to think it, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t thoroughly enjoy this book. Rare is the book that I break down and purchase a physical copy for Karin to read, but The Hunger Games was pure mind candy reduced to it’s most primitive, agreeable, and diabetic-inducing form. And as I read it, I could see in my mind’s eye how easy it would be to translate this story on to film. Short of the “fire dress” and the wolves, everything seemed “movie ready”.
And as soon as Karin wraps up reading The Hunger Games, we’re off to the theater to see how Katniss handles the rush to the cornucopia on the big screen…