The Hunger Games
I'm straight up a day late and a dollar short. For someone whose livelihood requires I troll in the present tense and barter in current events, I am embarrassingly late to the party on a lot of things. Reading books, as much as I love love love to, has fallen so far down the priority list I can barely remember the good ole days when I would crack open #974 in the Babysitter's Club series, wolf down my dinner without glancing at the people who put it there, and memorize exactly how Stacey dotted her i's with hearts so I could copy her penmanship in my notes to future boyfriends. Didn't know back then there'd only be a couple and that I'd end up marrying one of them after he grew into his giant head, lost the brace face, and stopped wearing XXXL No Fear sweatshirts. At least neither of us had headgear. Ahh, love that blossoms in junior high. We were quite the sight.
Back to my original post. Over the holiday, we spent some nice quality time with White Grandma and Grandpa, and he tipped me off to "The Hunger Games" trilogy by Suzanne Collins. She is BRILL-YANT for coming up with this series. She said she got the idea while she was flipping the channels and contrasting the images of the Iraq war with reality TV. Yes, I was so enamored with these books I googled everything about them and found some random Borders book club discussion that looked like an SNL skit but it was REAL and the author was talking about her experiences and inspiration.
Think Survivor meets Project Runway meets Lord of the Flies meets Twilight meets HELLLLLLLLA good page turning thought-provoking compelling series of books. I could not tap the iPad pages fast enough to get through the book. And I know, the last time I professed my love for a book, "The Passage," my news fairy godmother laughed at me, and I may face the same ridicule over my Hunger Games infatuation but I'm willing to risk it.
The imagery, the concept, the characters, the setting, the idea of the whole thing is so twisted and just freaky enough to happen and just leaves you wanting to talk about it with everyone you know. Which I did. To the unbearable annoyance of The Good Doctor's who's all, "Would you PLEASE stop talking about the books? That's ALL you ever talk about. You are so ANNOY." We say that because my dad always calls things "so annoy." Who needs the ing anyway?
As you know, I'm not one to force my readings onto anyone. OH YOU BETCHA I AM. And I can see Russia from my house! So I casually mention that I BET he can't read the first 5 pages and not get hooked. I use this trick all the time. Like I BET you can't put that WHOLE tangelo in your mouth. When really, all I'm trying to do is get him to eat a piece of fruit because scurvy isn't just for sailors anymore. And nobody likes a constipated spouse. The less time my iPad has to see the inside of our bathroom, the better for all involved.
In any case, this time it didn't take nearly as much pleading, begging, and bribery. At first I was like, "What have you done to my husband? The REAL Good Doctor would not submit to this 'peacefully reading in bed' act. He would kick and scream and plug his ears while I pinned him to the king bed and read aloud in an exaggerated Russian accent until he got so annoyed he would agree to read if I would STOP WITH THE BABUSHKA ALREADY."
Guess who's already onto the third book? This is the same guy who has repeatedly, publicly denounced reading as a plague against humanity.
It's THAT good people. Even people who hate reading are reading it!
I laughed, I cried, I contemplated, and obviously, I'm blobbing. The movie is allegedly shooting this year. I'm DIZZ-eyeing to know who they're casting for the main characters. Seriously, read The Hunger Games and let's camp out and read the books again while we're in the line for the premiere! I'll share my popcorn. But I'm a whisperer. I can't HELP myself. Movies are not meant to be solitary experiences.