Mockingjay is the third book in the Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins. Santino introduced me to Hunger Games last year via recommendation by his teacher. "Mom, you've GOT to read this," he said. A real page-turner, it is a dystopian vision of a post-apocalyptic United States. The controlling central government asserts its power over the twelve districts of "Panem," formerly the U.S., by sending teenage representatives from each district to an arena fight to the death. I couldn't believe my kid was reading this stuff!
Like everything else coming from Santino's teacher, though, this book was compelling. We quickly read the second installment of the series, Catching Fire, some time in March. And after that? The long wait for the third book to come out.
I don't know what's happening in the publishing industry, but it seems that nobody writes a simple, single book any more. So many books come series, in threes, or fours or fives. Each individual book has an ending, sure, but the arc of the whole story isn't played out in the first 300 or 400 pages. Most of my experience is with young adult fiction, but immediately several series come to mind, including "Midnighters" (three books), "Uglies" (three books), "Twilight" (four books), and of course, Harry Potter (seven books). The Hunger Games series was no exception.
As we finished the second act (that is, book) of the story, we were left with two cliffhangers. First--would our hero, Katniss Everdeen, succeed in leading a revolution to overthrow the central government? And second---who would end up as Katniss' soulmate? Her longtime archery chum Gale, or her loving partner in the Hunger Games, Peeta?
These are high stakes, and we had to wait until August 24 for the last book to come out. Santino was upset because he had soccer camp that day. I know he would've been very happy for me to say, hey, don't go to camp--let's sit all day and read instead! But, he went to camp, and I bought the book, including two additional copies for my book club friends at school. When I picked Santino up from camp, he climbed into the car and started reading immediately.
At home, Santino plunked himself down on the couch, and I sidled up on the love seat. He read Mockingjay, and I read Specials--yet another third book in a trilogy about a post-apocalyptic dystopia. After four chapters, Santino growled. "Arrghh!!! Mom, I have to talk to you about this. Could you read it?" So I read four chapters so we could talk. Then he had the great idea--we would each read a few chapters tag-team style so we could discuss the book as we went along.
Once more, he plopped onto the couch and continued reading--he changed his mind about tag-team because he didn't want to give up the book to me. It was getting late, though, and some time past 11 pm he still had about 100 pages to go. "I don't want to go to soccer camp!" he whined. I told him that while he was at camp, it would give me a chance to catch up with him.
The next day, I read to the exact page where he was in the book. Back from camp, he focussed again on the couch, book in hand and puppies at his feet. That last 100 pages were excruciating. "Oh, not HIM!" he cried. At another point, "Mom, you're going to HATE this!" And finally, "Yes, YES, I knew she would do it!"
The final page read, he shut the book with a loud thump and woke up the puppies. It was my turn, and the book didn't disappoint me. No spoilers here--but I can tell you I know whether the rebels succeed, and also which boy Katniss chose in the end.
After plunging yourself into a world that spans over 1,000 pages, it's always a disappointment when you've come to the end. We certainly felt that sense of loss at the seventh installment of Harry Potter. You get to know those characters, and that world, and it's almost like a death in the family.
But how wonderful is it to celebrate the birth of a book. The anticipation of the release of Mockingjay captured our imaginations for months. We tooted our horns on August 24--today is the day! And as we saw the world play out, a surprise in the end, we left with a sense of happy melancholy.
And now Santino and I are asking ourselves--What's the next great book?
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