Catching Fire, by Suzanne Collins

Spoiler Alert: If you have not read Hunger Games yet, watch out for spoilers in this review. I'm doing my best to avoid them, and only revealing things that were foregone conclusions in the first book. Still, I do apologize if any of your reading experience is marred. Also, if you have read Catching Fire, the illustrations on this blog entry will be more meaningful.

Katniss's Mockingjay pin

The second book in the Hunger Games trilogy, Catching Fire, by Suzanne Collins, picks up right where the first book, Hunger Games, leaves off. Katniss is back home after her ordeal with the Hunger Games. She has much to ponder...love, family, self, betrayal, loyalty, the future, the past, the rebellion (if there is one), and what her participation in the Games has done to those she loves--Mom, Prim, Peeta, Haymitch, the people of District 12, and Gale--especially Gale. Her token, the mockingjay, has become popular in the Capitol as a memento of the Games, but in the outlying districts it is associated with resistance against the government. So, Katniss is required to keep wearing it to keep the Capitol happy and is also punished for it. These types of double-binds fill this book and give it a claustrophobic quality.


Horror is introduced in the character of the Nazi-like Thread, who takes over the security forces in District 12 and starts to actually enforce the rules coming from the Capitol. It seems that his actions wreak the worst havoc on people connected to Katniss. Her guilt is immense, but everything she tries to make things better makes things worse. As a Games veteran, she is pretty much trapped. She fought in the games because it would make things better at home, but nothing is better.


The first half of this book involves the victory tour of Katniss and Peeta. (OK, sorry, this is a major spoiler if you haven't read the first book.) The Hunger Games take place every two years. In the off years, the victors tour the twelve districts to keep it fresh in the minds of the people that the central government can snatch their children and put them to death in the arena any time it wants to. During the tour, Katniss and Peeta learn to see their own district with new eyes--especially its isolation and sparse population. They also see first-hand evidence of repression and resistance and begin to question whether or not they have a duty that transcends devotion to family and district, to self, and to each other--a duty to all of the people of Panem, a duty to speak out, to lead. They are lightning rods for the resistance whether they like it or not...and maybe it's the right place to be.

When the second half of the book takes us back to the arena--I won't reveal how--it is almost a relief. Yeah, for about 10 seconds. The way the combatants psych out the features of the arena and its hazards is fascinating. Katniss and Peeta have allies in this Games (called the Quarter Quell) this time--but everybody but one must die. Katniss hates allies; the more you rely on them, the more likely you are to die at their hands, she thinks. The Games are as gruesome as ever, with lightning, tidal waves, floods, and other tortures recurring regularly. It seems that the only lesson Katniss really learns is the various forms that can be taken by sacrifice.


So, the bleak vision of Hunger Games continues in Catching Fire. What saves the books is the fierce affection I developed for Katniss (and Haymitch, but not so much Peeta or Gale). What happens to her has become deeply important to me. The author has drawn Katniss wonderfully. She is someone I would like to know. And, I realize, I do know Katniss...I've met her at Sojourners where I work. She's the annoyingly feisty girl who came to us after her home broke up and she took pills to cope. She's the dull-eyed boy who has seen way too much violence and hunger. I see her every day.


I would like to search E-Bay for a magic wand that really works, an undo spell for the unloved and unlovable, a hug that heals. And this is why this book is important. The ordeals my youth undergo are not as dramatic as those Katniss faces, but they feel the same. There is the same hopelessness, the same feeling of No Way Out. Metaphorically, the book is a parallel to everyone's life. There is much pain in living. I feel the pain of not being able to help much. Respect and courtesy and knowing that I do not know everything is about all I can offer. It never feels like enough. In that sense, my journey and Katniss's are the same.


The third book (called Mockingjay, I think) will arrive in the mail soon. I can't wait to find out what happens. 


Sidebar: The Fallacy of Helping
In most therapy/support groups, there is a rule against helping through advice-giving--a rule people fight and fight to defeat. Advice can be a form of psychic violence. Now that I'm sort of mature (in my fifties!), I have started to be able to actually act on people's advice to me, to accept it. But I'm never happy about it and my first instinct is always to RESIST. Alas.


I work at an agency that helps children and young adults whose lives have gone off-track (sometimes from birth). Ideally, we help most by empowering, but I am constantly aware of the fact that help is often applied in such a way that it becomes as much a problem as the problem we're trying to help. To stand back and have faith that unconditional acceptance will eventually have a curative effect, that takes more discipline than most of us have. We have such a desire to intervene, to correct, to control. How to make help not a trap is a constant question for me.