A New? Hope, I Hope

(I promise this post is not specifically about Star Wars, although perhaps not unrelated)

I just finished The Hunger Games, the first book of the recently popular trilogy bearing the same title by Suzanne Collins.  I highly recommend it and eagerly look forward to reading the remaining two in the series and watching the forthcoming movie.  Spoiler alert! I will not give away too many details, but will be focusing on the general trends of the end of the book. 

The book, set in a future America segmented into districts by a devastating war won by the controlling capitol, follows the story of a young girl, Katniss, who is propelled into a televised “game” where 24 teens must fight to the death.  Katniss is clever, strong, and bound to another competitor by a somewhat contrived romance.  Eventually, she is forced to take drastic measures that could be seen as either heedlessly yielding to this “love” or challenging the all-powerful capitol.  The book ends rather abruptly as she is forced to deal with the consequences of her actions in the game – balancing between sustaining what might be love and pushing against the injustice of the capitol – but the sudden stop could not restrain the forward momentum of my mind. 

Particularly, I found myself predicting all the ways she could show the capitol who’s boss, how she could stick it to the man or stand up to what is obviously a horribly unjust system. 

This strong protagonist may just have what it takes to start some sort of revolution, be a heroine leading legions of rebels against the capitol. 

Or at least she could die trying, sparking an even greater revolution by her martyrdom.  At least that’s how a mind fed on 23 years of inspiring stories hoped this one would turn out.

But the more I thought about these options juxtaposed against the anti-climactic ending of an uncertain girl who is becoming more concerned about her relationship with the other competitor, the more I rethought the grandeur of the rebellious heroine.

Maybe those exciting predictions of revolution led by the now unstoppable Katniss are not the best story.

 

Then, I heard about the current riots in London.  As I researched more into the crazed destruction spurred on by the unrest of economic and social injustice, I couldn’t help but feel even more uneasy at the idea of a bravado-fueled revolution of the disgruntled masses.  These rioters may not have a heroine as noble as Katniss, but their actions are only a shade or two away from what I had initially hoped to find in the rest of the Hunger Games story.

As the end of the book crashed into the hard reality of our world, my heart and mind were left vulnerable and exposed, unsure of how to escape the burning mess all around.

And that’s when the importance of the complicated love relationship between the two protagonists of the book finally sunk in.  If Katniss were to try and challenge the capitol, she would get instantly squashed and wiped from the face of the earth in such a carefully planned accident that no one would dare question the capitol’s involvement.  Even if she was able to muster up some rebel compatriots, this would merely result in more war and death and the propagation of hate.

This does not mean she must lay over like a lame duck, however.  On the contrary, Katniss is in the position of true power.  She is in the position to foster love.  And that love is the only thing that can truly transform a situation rife with injustice, oppression, and death.  That love is the only thing that can bring life into a world of destruction. It is a simple, humble love in which everyone can participate.

(Anyone else think Ben looks a lot like Jim Carrey in this video?)

I now hope that my first inclination of rebellion does not win out.  Rather I hope that humble love wins – the love between Katniss and Peeta.  The simple love that all can express and share.  The love that does not bend to injustice, but rises above the prevalent hate and destruction.  The love that transforms perceptions of the world, allowing our hearts to penetrate deeper into the truth of our reality.  The love that is the more difficult option, but our only hope.

I don’t know which path Collins has chosen to lead her readers, but I know which one needs to be taken.