The Hunger Games: Kids Killing Kids Killing More Kids
I’m sure kids themselves are way less upset at the idea. Find me a kid who hasn’t wanted to kill another kid and I’ll show you a whole drum circle’s worth of espoused pacifist teens who secretly want to take Moonbeam down for flaunting her perfect dreds.
Heck, even toddlers are vicious little monsters. If you think basically normal children would be incapable of going all blood lust crazy, you haven’t seen a room full of preschoolers take down a 3-year-old like a pack of lions on an antelope. In a second, school can go from gluing pom-poms on paper snowmen to full-on Lord of the Flies. You just better pray your kid’s not Piggy.
Apart from all the trident-to-the-head, spear-through-the-chest madness of The Hunger Games, the thing that really kept me reading was the love. Before you throw up in your mouth, let me assure you I don’t mean the type of love we usually have shoved on us in the form of Hallmark cards or Rom-coms. Not cutesy, heel-kick, Princess Diaries love. I mean real love. Sacrificial love. Love that hurts.
Isn’t that what all the greatest love stories have in common? Being willing to die for those you love? Sticking it out when everything seems hopeless? Katniss and Peeta, Katniss and Gale, heck, Katniss and Prim - that’s love. That’s a dystopian Romeo and Juliet – star-crossed lovers wielding arrows and snapping necks to an indie-folk and country soundtrack. Le sigh.