Thursday, March 29, 2012

The Hunger Games: It's impact.

If you knew anything about me you know that I don't do fads. I don't do gossip magazines, reality tv, or trends. I won't wear my cowboy boots just because I'm going to a western place. For me, scarves are meant to be worn when it's cold out, not 72 degrees. The idea of being told that I only wear my hair in a braid because Katniss Everdeen dons one in the books makes me angry. Unless instructed to, I rarely wear pink/red on Valentines day or green on St. Patrick's day. It's just not in me. Someone told me once that I march to the beat of my own drum and I told them, no, if I like the music, I'll dance.

And in this case I did. With The Hunger Games trilogy. And when I refer to the Hunger Games, I mean the book series, not the movie. These are separate things and don't try to analyze them as one unit. Because they aren't. But anyway, not the point of this post. The point of this post is to speak about the impact of a book, story, or series.

I first heard about The Hunger Games about 1 1/2 years ago from my friend Vanessa. She explained to me the premise of the story and I rolled my eyes because again, if you know anything about me, I hate futuristic anythings. But I respected her opinion and told myself I would give it a try because I can't resist a good book (or for that matter, a good trilogy.) Fast forward 2 years and I still hadn't gotten around to reading it. Crap. Now the movie is coming out and I'll belong to that meme that people will no doubt be creating about reading a book just because a movie is coming out. Like this one:

But whatever, I really don't care because when it comes to books, I'll jump on a bandwagon. As long as they're worth my time. And they were. Completely. In all reality it didn't take much of my time because it took me a total of 4 days to read the whole trilogy. By the end of it, I was sobbing. No, not watery eyes and a lump in my throat. Full. On. Sobs. It's been a long time since a series, or even a single book for that matter has elicited such a response out of me. Throughout the series I went through a full gamut of emotions. Excitement. Pain. Intensity. Remorse. Grief. Delight. Sorrow. At times they stressed me out; sometimes I felt like a teenage girl giddy over romance; and at others I felt intense mourning because I knew the feeling of losing someone loved. Regrettably.

I haven't felt some of those feelings in a while so while it was refreshing to revisit, I'm sad it's over. I'm sad that I won't have something exciting to come home to. A place to lose myself in. To get away from responsibility and just enjoy a good story. This is what a good book does to me. Moments spent on the hammock in my back yard, straining to find a comfortable position to read in all, all the while knowing I'll just move in a few minutes anyway because a story this good can't keep me still for long...

Its pretty obvious from my ranting that I recommend the books. Whole heartedly. Do yourself a favor and take the time to read them. Not because it's popular. Not because a movie just came out. But because when you find a gem, one that makes you think "Crap, I can't put this thing down" at the end of every chapter, where you were in life will be forever etched into that book and it's those memories that sustain us.