Hunger Games
What the fuck did I just read?
This is, without a doubt, pretty much the "Requiem for a dream" of youth literature.
It IS a requiem for a dream, actually.
Suzanne Middlename Collins!
I was ready to hand off your writing as entertaining enough, ramble on about your obvious roots in Telly writing as evident in your snappy action sequences, your brash facts, your cinematic moments.
But... Boy Howdy, these final 50 pages or so. Fuck me sideways and call me Sally, that was... different.
No the bit where Coin turns out to be just as much of an oportunistic, calculating, cold dictator as Snow. Because that is the way of the world and I saw it coming over 300 pages ago.
History is defined by the victor, there is hardly ever any "right" and so on and so forth.
But just... this book has balls as big as cantaloupes. Or Ovaries, I must say. The unflinching follow through on everybody's mental descent. Killing Finnick (the photo of Annie and Finnick's newborn son. Ouch.). Oh, right: Killing prim and hundred of Children along with her. That one. And the mass graves, and the scars, and the fact that Gale slots into the system apparently seamlessly.
Hm, can't think of any more details, now. But let's talk.
Basically, first I was like
Then I was like
Then I was like
Then I was like
Then I was like
Then I was like
Then I was like
And Now I'm like
This is, without a doubt, pretty much the "Requiem for a dream" of youth literature.
It IS a requiem for a dream, actually.
Suzanne Middlename Collins!
I was ready to hand off your writing as entertaining enough, ramble on about your obvious roots in Telly writing as evident in your snappy action sequences, your brash facts, your cinematic moments.
But... Boy Howdy, these final 50 pages or so. Fuck me sideways and call me Sally, that was... different.
No the bit where Coin turns out to be just as much of an oportunistic, calculating, cold dictator as Snow. Because that is the way of the world and I saw it coming over 300 pages ago.
History is defined by the victor, there is hardly ever any "right" and so on and so forth.
But just... this book has balls as big as cantaloupes. Or Ovaries, I must say. The unflinching follow through on everybody's mental descent. Killing Finnick (the photo of Annie and Finnick's newborn son. Ouch.). Oh, right: Killing prim and hundred of Children along with her. That one. And the mass graves, and the scars, and the fact that Gale slots into the system apparently seamlessly.
Hm, can't think of any more details, now. But let's talk.
Basically, first I was like
Then I was like
Then I was like
Then I was like
Then I was like
Then I was like
Then I was like
And Now I'm like
