weekly book review: the hunger games, by suzanne collins

Regarding the sci-fi/fantasy genre, I've recently come to this very simple conclusion: if it takes place in outer space then I probably won't like it, but if it's set in a dystopian future world then I probably will. And although I'm not positive what it means about my fundamental psychology that I'm a tad obsessed with horrific future scenarios, I guess I have a pretty good idea.

Anywho...

I recently finished The Hunger Games, which is the first book in a planned trilogy set in, yes, a dystopian future. The United States is gone, and what is left of North America (now Panem) has been divided up into thirteen districts, ruled over by a dictatorship run from a city simply called The Capitol. Like most dictatorships, life in The Capitol is swanky and well-fed, while the poor saps in the surrounding districts exist in varying levels of starvation, squalor, toil and strife. And it's very unlikely that things will improve anytime soon. District 13 once had the audacity to rebel, and - *poof!* - no more District 13.

In order to ensure that the remaining twelve districts aren't tempted to follow in the footsteps of District 13, the television-obsessed Capitol devised The Hunger Games: a annual lottery in which two children - one male, and one female - are selected each year from all twelve districts and forced to fight it out in "The Arena." The lone winner gets fame and fortune, while the 23 losers get a cruel, televised death. It's a yearly, crushing reminder of how much power The Capitol wields, and is required viewing for all of Panem.

The heroine of The Hunger Games is a incredibly resilient and resourceful young lady named Katniss Everdeen who hails from District 12, or what used to be called Appalachia. The folks in District 12 are desperately poor, and the kids unlucky enough to "win" spots in the Games are rarely competitive. Katniss is, of course, a notable exception. When her little sister had the misfortune of being selected, Katniss did the unimaginable and volunteered herself in her place. Further complicating matters is the second contestant from District 12, Peeta Mellark, who has a very obvious crush on the plucky Katniss despite the fact that the two are about to spar off in a fight to the death.

Personally, I could have done without this side love story, but I also understand that romance is a basic requirement for teen fiction. Another quibble I had is that the ending felt abrupt, but then I had also managed to forget that The Hunger Games is only the first book in a planned trilogy, so a hasty ending is a forgivable offense. Other than that, I really, really enjoyed The Hunger Games, despite one truly disgusting scene, some eye-rolling lovey-dovey moments, and a nagging feeling that I'd read parts of it before (*cough!*TheRunningMan*cough!*). It may not have been perfect, but it hooked me early and hooked me hard; I devoured the thing in two sittings, and am eagerly awaiting the release of Collins' next installment, which I believe is due to be released this September.

In a nutshell, The Hunger Games is gritty, absorbing and inventive, even if not 100% original. Fans of dystopian lit. should approve.

Suzanne Collins

The Hunger Games

2008, 384 pages

monday book review: little brother, by cory doctorow

Little Brother is the highly readable and frighteningly plausible story of Marcus, aka "w1n5t0n," a 17-year-old gamer and hacker living in 2015 San Francisco.  Precocious, wickedly smart and a fierce lover of privacy, Marcus spends much of his time subverting his school's absurdly intrusive surveillance system, a system that treats its students like criminals under the guise of safety.  

Things were certainly annoying for Marcus before terrorists attacked San Francisco's Bay Bridge, but afterward life becomes just plain hell.  Finding himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, Marcus and his friends are arrested under suspicion of terrorism, falsely imprisoned in a secret location, and made to endure "enhanced interrogation" techniques.  After his eventual release, Marcus finds that his city has become a police state, and its inhabitants treated more like potential terrorists than free citizens.  Many seem willing to endure the new regime, accepting it as a necessary evil in the wake of the attacks, however Marcus knows better.  The Department of Homeland Security is completely out of control, and if no one else is willing to step up and fight then Marcus will take it upon himself to take his city back.

As an avid skimmer of Boing Boing, I felt as if I'd been hearing about Doctorow's newest novel since it was a mere literary fetus. (Doctorow being both the author of Little Brother and the coeditor of the aforementioned blog, which is by far my favorite nerd blog.) However, despite my exposure to the title I'm not exactly in the habit of reading a novel simply because its author keeps insisting on its awesomeness, so I sort of ignored the brief period of incessant Little Brother posts on the site, never feeling a strong compulsion to read Doctorow's 1984-inspired young adult novel.  Fast forward several months and I, while attending a conference on new YA releases, was once again reminded of the book that set the Internet nerd herd on fire.  The presenter just GUSHED over Little Brother, so I finally broke down and started to read it.  

And dear me, but I was hooked by page five.   "Unputdownable" is a word that is greatly overused in the book industry, but even still I can't think of a better - although, admittedly, made-up - word to describe Little Brother.  It's freaking unputdownable.  I tore through it in a day despite it heft - abandoning hygiene, sustenance and sleep until I reached the end.  Sure, there were things that bugged me.  It oversimplified issues of homeland security and the author's politics (although mine own) were beyond transparent, however the story was so darn good that although I noticed these flaws I didn't really care about them.

I recently listed this title as my favorite YA release of '08, but the truth is that it was probably one of my favorite literary releases of '08, period.  Little Brother is smart, cool, gripping, scary, and - dare I say - important.  Really. I can't recommend it enough.

Little Brother

Cory Doctorow

2008, 382 pages

monday book review: oryx and crake, by margaret atwood

Oryx and Crake is the story of a dystopic future that feels alarmingly similar to our real-world present - a time when global warming is a worrisome reality, when genetic experimentation is a issue of much debate, and when scientific advancements often reach further than our ability to fully comprehend their future effects. Taking her inspiration from these current concerns, Atwood focuses her eleventh novel around this central question: What will happen to humanity if our scientific advancements are allowed to proceed unchecked? And her answer - while gripping - ain't pretty.

Oryx and Crake begins shortly after the apocalypse, and shifts back and forth between present and past to reveal how things fell apart. The story opens on Jimmy, a man who believes himself to be the last surviving member of the human race. Starving, alone and dangerously exposed to the elements, Jimmy spends most of his time foraging for remnants of food, alcohol, and protection from the garish sun. The remainder of his time he spends looking over The Crakers - a new race of man, created by science to be perfectly adapted to the harsh environmental conditions and humanity's only hope. Jimmy has been hiding out on the outskirts of the Crakers' community, waiting for the terror that has been released upon humanity to run its course, but the fear of starvation ultimately forces Jimmy to leave the Crakers - for whom he has become something of a god - and return to what remains of the world he left behind. His journey back sparks the memories that reveal how the present came to be, unfurling a story that's King's The Stand meets Huxley's Brave New World.

As a fervent fan of both Margaret Atwood and dystopic literature, it goes without saying that Oryx and Crake was right up my alley. Atwood never fails to impress me with her imagination, skill, and thoughtful critique, and this novel had all of those things in spades. Oryx and Crake is a troublesome warning for our present, a reminder that just because we can do something doesn't necessarily mean that we should, and an example of Atwood at her finest. I highly recommend you give it a gander.

Oryx and Crake

Margaret Atwood

2003, 376 pages