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A review by astrangewind
The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins
dark
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
If Veronica Roth killed the genre of dystopian fiction, Suzanne Collins has revived it.
The Hunger Games take on a whole new meaning in this book - only ten years after the war, before all the pomp and flair, from the perspective of not only a mentor, but Corionalus Snow, the Big Bad Villain Man in the original Hunger Games trilogy. Here, we see the televised nature of the Games as an awkward affair, which provide the barest suggestion of what they will become by the time Katniss gets to them. The Games themselves are distanced; we only see the violence that happens from the mentors' eyes, who are largely interested in their tribute's survival only inasmuch as their fame and recognition depend on it. So much unlike the original trilogy where the reader, too, is inside the arena.
It's 500+ pages of following around the future president of Panem; of course we know it doesn't end well. That's what makes this book so captivating - Coriolanus is not a hero. He's a bystander, only caring about others in terms of how they affect his long-term goals, willing to step on those he deems subhuman.
When I read The Hunger Games for the first time, I was barely in high school. Back then, the draw of the books for me was that a bunch of teenagers were killing each other. Now, as I read Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, I wonder if the trilogy was this damn obvious. The reaping on July 4th, Coriolanus's hatred of Sejanus as a district-born Capitol citizen whose family has more money than his, the way he talks about the tributes other than his, the one he can use.
The Hunger Games were books about rebellion, revolution, fighting against oppression, no matter the cost. And there were costs. But this is a book about suppression. About how apathy and self-interest turns you into a monster that you don't care about becoming. About how the circumstances of your birth and life informs how you see others - that even though you might be eating cabbage soup inside of a penthouse with marbled floors, at least you're not district poor.
Coriolanus's obliviousness, selfishness, and downright sociopathy make him so unlikeable, but I couldn't put this book down. I wanted to see him punished - but, of course, why would he be? He gets the top spot in Panem's hierarchy.
Everything Collins does is clever: Sejanus's name, rooted from Janus, a god often portrayed with two faces; Coriolanus's abject hatred of the mockingjays as soon as he encounters them; the funeral of the Ring twins, where several tributes were dragged behind horse-drawn chariots, conjuring images of Achilles's dragging of Hector during the Trojan War. Her treatment of Coriolanus's PTSD from the bombings is superb and accurate. The characterization of Tigris as a mother figure, too.
Really just an incredible book that makes me want to reread The Hunger Games.
The Hunger Games take on a whole new meaning in this book - only ten years after the war, before all the pomp and flair, from the perspective of not only a mentor, but Corionalus Snow, the Big Bad Villain Man in the original Hunger Games trilogy. Here, we see the televised nature of the Games as an awkward affair, which provide the barest suggestion of what they will become by the time Katniss gets to them. The Games themselves are distanced; we only see the violence that happens from the mentors' eyes, who are largely interested in their tribute's survival only inasmuch as their fame and recognition depend on it. So much unlike the original trilogy where the reader, too, is inside the arena.
It's 500+ pages of following around the future president of Panem; of course we know it doesn't end well. That's what makes this book so captivating - Coriolanus is not a hero. He's a bystander, only caring about others in terms of how they affect his long-term goals, willing to step on those he deems subhuman.
When I read The Hunger Games for the first time, I was barely in high school. Back then, the draw of the books for me was that a bunch of teenagers were killing each other. Now, as I read Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, I wonder if the trilogy was this damn obvious. The reaping on July 4th, Coriolanus's hatred of Sejanus as a district-born Capitol citizen whose family has more money than his, the way he talks about the tributes other than his, the one he can use.
The Hunger Games were books about rebellion, revolution, fighting against oppression, no matter the cost. And there were costs. But this is a book about suppression. About how apathy and self-interest turns you into a monster that you don't care about becoming. About how the circumstances of your birth and life informs how you see others - that even though you might be eating cabbage soup inside of a penthouse with marbled floors, at least you're not district poor.
Coriolanus's obliviousness, selfishness, and downright sociopathy make him so unlikeable, but I couldn't put this book down. I wanted to see him punished - but, of course, why would he be? He gets the top spot in Panem's hierarchy.
Everything Collins does is clever: Sejanus's name, rooted from Janus, a god often portrayed with two faces; Coriolanus's abject hatred of the mockingjays as soon as he encounters them; the funeral of the Ring twins, where several tributes were dragged behind horse-drawn chariots, conjuring images of Achilles's dragging of Hector during the Trojan War. Her treatment of Coriolanus's PTSD from the bombings is superb and accurate. The characterization of Tigris as a mother figure, too.
Really just an incredible book that makes me want to reread The Hunger Games.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Child death, Death, Gun violence, Violence, Xenophobia, Murder, and Classism
Moderate: Addiction, Slavery, Grief, and War
Minor: Suicidal thoughts, Terminal illness, Toxic relationship, Vomit, Medical trauma, Stalking, Fire/Fire injury, and Gaslighting