Spoiler Alert: In this post I write about The Hunger Games trilogy written by Suzanne Collins and refer to parts of the plot.]
After reading the last book of The Hunger Games trilogy I felt sick to my stomach. It was more than a sadness that I felt: it was a mixture of disgust and despise. This was the closest to hatred that I had felt in a long time. The feeling I felt was towards war.
November 11th is Remembrance Day in Canada, the UK, Australia, India, and other Commonwealth countries around the world. It is a memorial day observed since World War 1 to remember those that died in the line of duty. Many other countries like the United States, France, and Germany have similar type holidays like Veterans Day, Memorial Day, and Armistice Day.
Remembrance Day never had much significance to me. Though I knew it’s meaning, I had never experienced war first-hand or known anyone else that did. So each year I was grateful for the holiday and tried to do my best to find a poppy to wear. But it was just like any other regular day.
Then I read the Hunger Games. And surprisingly, it changed Remembrance Day for me.
Suzanne Collins did a masterful job in writing The Hunger Games. I was pulled into the story right away, and kept reading and reading. Whenever I had the chance, I would sit on the couch for hours buried away in the books.
As the story unfolded, I became more and more attached to the characters and concerned about their well-being. From the annual twisted fight-to-the-death tournament that the trilogy was named after to the ensuing war that developed, I started reading faster and faster because in my heart I hoped to find resolution for the characters.
But things got worse and worse. The characters encountered awful experiences. People started dying. Lots of people. Destruction occurred. There was no way the characters could recover from the awful things that happened to them. There was too much damage. Even if they survived, they would remain scarred forever.
My hope for a good ending slowly dissipated. Yet I could not stop reading. At the end of the story there were few who survived. The deep sadness and disgust I felt overwhelmed me.
Perhaps this is what war feels like. The experiences are so awful for those involved that there can be no recovery from it. Though I have never known war, it disgusts me. I hate it and wish it would never ever happen.
It was late at night when I finished reading the last book. I marvelled at how a fictional story could leave me so shaken and angry. Perhaps that was the mark of a well-written story.
This Remembrance Day will mean something different for me because of The Hunger Games. Reading the trilogy gave me a small taste of war and developed in me an empathy for those who experience it. This year, when I pause for a minute of silence at 11am on the 11th day of the 11th month, I will say a prayer for those still struggling to live with the awful memories of their war experiences.
photo credit: libookperson, Eckhart Public Library