Showing posts with label creator: suzanne collins. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creator: suzanne collins. Show all posts

07 August 2026

Hugo Awards 2026: Ballots for Best Novel, Best Related Work, and Best Young Adult Book

This is the second of my posts covering my 2026 Hugo Awards. Here, I discuss the categories where the finalists are (mostly) books: Best Novel, Best Related Work, and Best Young Adult Book. My practice is to do full blog posts on all Best Novel finalists, and any books that strike my fancy in other categories (such as Inventing the Reniassance); if I have done this, the title of the finalist will link you to the post. Otherwise, the link is to the finalist itself, if it is freely available online. This means my Best Novel writeups are shorted and mostly focus on relative ranking, as the full writeups have my big-picture thougts about the finalists.


Best Novel

6. Shroud by Adrian Tchaikovsky
 
Despite my comment below, I did end up ranking something lower than Death of the Author. This book was 95% boring; Death of the Author was only, like, 33% boring (just the excerpts from Rusted Robots). Tchaikovsky is frustrating, because I believe I could like him, based on his premises... but I just don't vibe, apparently.
 
5. Death of the Author by Nnedi Okorafor
 
If while reading The Everlasting (see below), I thought, "This is going to be the one to beat," while reading Death of the Author, I thought exactly the opposite: "This is going to be the one everyone beats." I liked the frame story, about an Nigerian-American science fiction writer struggling with her family and her disability, but the whole book was sunk by the inclusion of the supposedly amazing novel that character writes, which I hated reading. 

4. The Raven Scholar by Antonia Hodgson

I thought this was very well done, solid fantasy. That is to say, I don't think it's breaking down genre barriers. I don't think it wanted to. But if you want to read a book that does what a fantasy book should do and does it well, I think you could do a lot worse than this. I enjoyed it a lot, and it's a solid Hugo contender.

3. A Drop of Corruption by Robert Jackson Bennett

I enjoyed this book a lot. It's a solid fantasy police procedural, combining several things that I enjoy into a single book. I would probably even go so far as to say that it's a better book than The Everlasting, in that it sets out to do something and accomplishes it, which I don't think Everlasting quite does, even though Everlasting is more ambitious. But Bennett won last year for the first book in this series, and when it comes to awards, I have a definite bias against sequels: let's fete something that hasn't been feted before.

2. The Everlasting by Alix E. Harrow

As noted in my review of this book (linked above), "[a]t the two-thirds mark, I thought this book was the one to beat. Unfortunately, the last third or so moves the book in a different direction..." If the rest of the book had been like the first two thirds, I definitely would have placed it first without even having read the rest of the shortlist. The ending, however, was not as good as what had come before. Which isn't to say I don't want to see it win—I think it's very good—but I don't think it's such an obvious victor as it might have been had it gone in a slightly different direction.

1. The Incandescent by Emily Tesh

What does one look for in a Hugo winner? Well, I can't answer for anyone else, but for me, the book needs to 1) be very good, but also 2) do something interesting with or to the genre. Or more precisely, be very good because of the way it engages with the genre. The Incandescent is exactly this. Tesh has very clearly read Harry Potter and many other "magic school" books and thought through how they operate. Add that to a strong sense of character and a clever plot, and this is exactly the kind of book—much like Tesh's previous finalist, Some Desperate Glory, that should be winning awards. Sometimes I mind repeat finalists, but this book is so different from her previous one but just as good. (Though, as she's pointed out in interviews, they are both about education.)


Best Related Work

7. History of Westeros: "Ragnarök vs. The Long Night" by Aziz and Ashaya
 
When I saw this was on YouTube, I thought it would be a deep dive YouTube documentary like previous Best Related Work finalists such as Lindsay Ellis's Hobbit videos or Jenny Nicholson's My Little Pony and Star Wars videos. To my utter bafflement, however, it turns out to be... just a podcast! One that's over two hours long!? And it just has a single host talking!!? And then people not only listen to this, but actually watch it!?!? Like, there's literally nothing to see other than a guy with a beard sitting in front of a map with a microphone!?!??! I appreciate intellectually that we all like different things, I guess, but what is wrong with people!!!???! I listen to a few podcasts regularly, but they all come out of the public radio space and do interesting thing with the audio medium, with guests and sound effects and host interaction and stuff. If I want a bunch of facts about a topic, surely I could just read a book? And indeed, this podcast is mostly just a guy relaying you facts he learned from reading a book! Supposedly it's to give you a better understanding of Ragnarök, and thus the "Long Night" from A Song of Ice and Fire, but I felt like the connections he made between the two were pretty banal and uninteresting. I couldn't believe we went through so much buildup for so little insight. Anyway, this is so bad I'd rather see literally anything else win, even though some of those other things I have strong philosophical reasons for not wanting to see win!

 
This is a huge spreadsheet where fans can submit things they'd like to highlight for Hugo nominations for the benefit of other fans. It is reorganized every year by a single volunteer (it has no connection to Worldcon), and I think it is a very neat project! However, longtime readers know there are two things I hate in "Best Related Work" finalists: things that are not "works" as I see them (e.g., prose writing or video content), and things that are about the Hugos themselves. This is both. I think it is very cool! It's just not at all the kind of thing I think we should give a Hugo Award to.
 
5. Colourfields: Writing About Writing About Science Fiction by Paul Kincaid
 
Briardene Books is a small UK publisher who puts out exactly one book per year. Their strategy (I say "their," but as far as I know, Briardene is exactly one person, Niall Harrison) seems to be to put out books collecting work by well-regarded UK sf critics; publishing only one per year means they can make sure every release lands on the ballot for the Hugo Award for Best Related Work. In general, I have enjoyed all the Briardene Books I have read; I ranked Niall Harrison's All These Worlds first in 2024 and Abigail Nussbaum's Track Changes second in 2025. This year's Briardene finalist is Colourfields by Paul Kincaid, who was previously a finalist in Best Related Work in 2017 for his monograph about Iain M. Banks, which I ranked first. (Will Briardene's just-released collection of the late Christopher Priest's nonfiction be a finalist in 2027? I suspect so.)
 
Like All These Worlds and Track ChangesColourfields collects reviews, but whereas those books mostly collected reviews of sf, Colourfields mostly collects (as the subtitle indicates) reviews of sf criticism. I know Kincaid is a cogent and interesting critic from reading Iain M. Banks, but it turns out that reviewing other people's criticism is a difficult place to demonstrate that. This pointed me to a couple works of sf criticism that I ought to read, but it's hard to get a good sense of Kincaid's actual positions from this, other than that 1) he likes to claim sf is undefinable, 2) he doesn't like Darko Suvin, and 3) he has lots of thoughts about the New Wave. Unlike All These Worlds and Track Changes, one doesn't get the sense of a cogent worldview when it comes to sf. I think most of these reviews were perfectly fine, even good... but a bunch of reviews of sf criticism probably work a lot better in their original contexts than they do collected together, and I soon got pretty bored. Frustratingly, though, when Kincaid does briefly turn to reviewing some actual sf (a few novels by M. John Harrison), I was still bored, as these read more like lengthy plot synopses than critique. So I've ended up ranking it below Inventing the Renaissance, which is maybe a bit unfair, but I think Palmer was up to something interesting in a way that Kincaid is not, at least not here.
 
(Pedantic Wellsian note: in his review of John Rieder's Colonialism and the Emergence of Science Fiction, Kincaid says, "I doubt very much whether Wells had either the dodo or the Tasmanians specifically in mind when he wrote this novel [The War of the Worlds]"... but Wells specifically mentions both the dodo and the Tasmanians in the sixth paragraph of The War of the Worlds. It's right there on the second page of the book! C'mon, dude.)
 
4. Inventing the Renaissance by Ada Palmer
 
As I said in my full post about this book, "There are two ways to think about every Hugo finalist, of course: how good of a book is it, and how good of a finalist is it. In many cases these are pretty much the same thing, but in some cases they are very different. Inventing the Renaissance is a good example of a finalist where they are very different." I actually think that Inventing the Renaissance is a better book than Positive Obsession. However, this category is called "Best Related Work"... and this is not really related to science fiction or fantasy at all. It's a history and historiography of the Renaissance! It was pretty clearly nominated because the author is someone science fiction fans like because she wrote science fiction novels.
 
3. No Award

Ada Palmer wrote a blog post trying to justify why Inventing the Renaissance would count as a "related work" when it was announced as a finalist in the similar BSFA Award category... and to be honest, I expected better of her as a writer. Not that she should have turned down the nomination or anything, but the attempt at justification is not very good and uncharacteristically lacks intellectual rigor. Her argument is basically: 
  1. "[I]t is peppered with direct genre references."
  2. It's about how people want to return to an imagined Golden Age, which is something that happens in science fiction sometimes, e.g., Asimov's Foundation.
  3. Palmer's narrative techniques are taken from sf. 
I think most of these are bad: 
  1. Surely the bar for "related work" must be higher than this.
  2. I originally had an objection here to her second point, on the basis that "[t]here are lots of topics that inspire lots of science fiction, and where better understanding those topics would help us better understand science fiction, but that doesn't make works on those topics related to science fiction," but then I was reminded that in 2024, A City on Mars was a finalist, and that was a book entirely about the reality of Mars colonization, not the depiction of Mars colonization in sf... and I ranked it second! So I think I have to buy Palmer's claim here. Although, if I'm honest, I don't think reading Inventing the Renaissance gives you very much insight into Foundation.
  3. Basically, Palmer learned about cross-cutting between storylines from anime. Like, okay, sure, I guess... but actually no. You could have also learned about that by reading Charles Dickens. One of her other supposed sf techniques is that "The book is also woven through with fun but unnecessary Shakespeare references, which persistently pop up as examples of things or ways of expressing things, just as some fantasy narrators constantly bring in quotes from an in-world literary figure, as Dune quotes the works of Princess Irulan." But surely Dune does that because that's what real histories do to begin with! Quoting things is not an sf technique! Palmer then has a whole long thing about how a lot of Inventing the Renaissance is written in the first person. I agree that this is interesting and a point in the book's favor, but she never even explains how this is an sf narrative technique beyond that every sf novel she's written has been in the first person. The first person is hardly a narrative technique with any unique connection to sf! Like, c'mon! In any case, using an sf-derived narrative technique doesn't make your book related to sf.
What I find really frustrating is that I think there was a better defense she could have made, even if I wouldn't have bought that either: Inventing the Renaissance is (partially) about how our way of understanding the world has changed over time, how it came to incorporate empiricism and rational observation... and without those things, you can't even have science, and thus you can't have science fiction! It is no coincidence that sf emerges in the early 1800s, and it's as a result of the very processes Palmer describes in this book. That would have been a much more compelling claim of Inventing the Renaissance as related work than "I learned about quotations from Dune"!
 
Obviously I'm annoyed by this, so Inventing the Renaissance goes below "No Award." I wonder if I would have been this annoyed without the blog post, if she had just let the book be short-listed without comment. Oh well. 
 
2. Positive Obsession: The Life and Times of Octavia E. Butler by Susanna M. Morris
 
I thought this book was okay. I think Octavia Butler is a very interesting writer, and I have rated a lot of her work quite highly. Unfortunately, she may not have been a very interesting person. I don't mean this in a mean way: Morris clearly does her best with a person whose main thing was living by herself and writing a lot. Like, this is very hard to spin a riveting biography out of. Most interesting to me was the discussion of Butler's late-life writer's block and the abortive drafts at a third Parables novel. (One hopes some of that material will get released to the public in some form someday.) It's an okay book about an important sf figure.
 
 
Last War in Albion is blogger Elizabeth Sandifer's history of British comics, told through the conceit that Alan Moore and Grant Morrison were engaged in a magical war. This was a single blog post covering Neil Gaiman and The Sandman... one that runs over four hundred pages when formatted for Kindle! If you're able to ignore the conceit, this is a very effective deep dive on both Gaiman as a person in light of recent revelations that he has raped several women, and on him as an artist. Sandifer doesn't shy away from the reality of what he's done, and she places his work and life in the context of his upbringing in Scientology: I didn't even know about this before reading the piece; I feel like most critical work on Gaiman takes his own self-mythology at face value. However, neither does she comb through his work going, "aha! signs he was secretly a rapist all along." (She does have a good analysis of the serial killer Sandman story, which always made me uncomfortable.) But Sandifer is also good at both close reading individual stories and panels of Sandman and in placing Sandman in the context of 1980s comics. If this had been written before everything about Gaiman came out, and didn't discuss the rapes, it would have been a strong piece of criticism, but now it's an essential one. I was never the Gaimanite that some people are, but there's still a disappointment when someone who creates great art turns out to be an awful person, and Sandifer explores that well, too. I find Sandifer's Doctor Who criticism hit-or-miss, but if she wins a Hugo for this, it will be well-deserved. Far and away the best thing on the ballot.
 
(Fun fact: the copyeditor of the ebook edition provided in the Hugo voting packet is Sean Dillon, who took my British Literature II class at UConn some twelve years ago! Obviously I taught him everything he knows about Between the Acts.)


Lodestar Award for Best Young Adult Book

[UNRANKED] Oathbound by Tracy Deonn 

This is the third book in Deonn's Legendborn cycle, where Arthurian knights are for some reason reincarnated at UNC Chapel Hill. I read the first book when it was a finalist in 2020, and mostly had just complaints about it. Thus, I skipped the second book when it was a finalist in 2023, and I'm skipping the third now. In the unlikely event that it does win the category, I suppose I'll give it a go as part of my quest to read all Hugo-winning books I haven't already read. (I would reach it in 2051.)
 
5. Coffeeshop in an Alternate Universe by C. B. Lee

I groaned when I saw the title of this book on the shortlist. In general, I think people should enjoy what they want to enjoy... except that I find the enjoyment of "cozy" fiction morally suspect. This book is about two high school girls, one from our universe, the other from a magic alternate timeline; one accidentally falls into the other's universe, and they both begin to fall for each other. Of course we have alternating first-person narration, and it is tedious. One of them: "gosh im so attracted to her but i dont know if this will work out." The other one: "gosh im so attracted to her but i dont know if this will work out." Will it work out? Yes, duh. But somehow, it's over four hundred pages. Anyway, I do have to admit 1) this isn't quite "cozy" fiction; unlike, say, Legends & Lattes, there are actual stakes and obstacles here, and there are greater aspirations than "being a small business owner who is a 'nice' boss and friends with the mob," and 2) it's very much not aimed at me, so whether I enjoyed it or not is honestly kind of beside the point. However, I found the worldbuilding of the fantasy universe pretty shallow, and surely there's better stuff going on in YA sf&f than this.

4. Holy Terrors by Margaret Owen

This is the third book in a trilogy where I have not read the first two. Loathe to add still more reading to my over 8,000 pages of Hugo reading (I don't know how long the first two books are, but this one is almost 600 pages), I did not read the first two books, despite the excoriations of the author in the voting packet. She helpfully did include a summary of the first two books... unfortunately this summary was itself over 30,000 words, so I wasn't going to read it either! I actually didn't find the plot too hard to follow; what was hard to follow was that there were dozens of characters to keep track of (I think at least fifty!), and they weren't really introduced to the reader. More helpful than a blow-by-blow summary might have been a list of all the characters and how they relate to the protagonist.

Anyway, this is about a magical righter of wrongs, whose foster parents are Death and Fortune (???); her ex-boyfriend is a police officer, which caused issues (she's less concerned about law than justice), but they Still Have Feelings even though he's engaged. Meanwhile, there's an election going on to pick a new emperor, and participants are being killed off... by someone masquerading as her. So she needs to prove herself innocent and stop the real killer. This was all fine and reasonably engaging, but definitely suffered from me not knowing who all the victims and suspects were. The two big things I had a hard time with, plot-wise, were that 1) there is a bit where the protagonist herself is mind-controlled for a whole week, but just seems to shrug it off, and 2) at the end, the antagonist creates an alternate timeline, which is a level of magic way beyond anything the book previously indicated was possible.

Anyway, I enjoyed it to the extent that I could, and it's definitely more interesting than Coffeeshop in an Alternate Universe, but I don't think I can rank it above anything else where I actually knew what was going on! 

3. Among Ghosts by Rachel Hartman

This is the fifth book in Hartman's "Southlands" sequence. I previously read the third and fourth when they were Lodestar finalists; I loved the third, Tess of the Road, and ranked it first in 2019, whereas my thoughts about the fourth, In the Serpent's Wake, were more mixedAmong Ghosts is about a different character in the same world and so is otherwise unconnected to the other books. It was interesting to note that Hartman seems to be pushing herself here a bit; both Tess of the Road and In the Serpent's Wake were journey narratives, where a main character learns about herself by travelling across a world. But Among Ghosts is the exact opposite: its main character spends the entire novel in a single location, and learns about himself as different people travel through his location. This is a neat concept, but I do think it deflates the energy of the narrative a bit, as it didn't always seem like there was a lot of urgency or like the main character was trying to do much. Overall, I would say it was a perfectly fine piece of YA fiction... but I wish I would read another Hartman that I loved as much as Tess!

2. They Bloom at Night by Trang Thanh Tran

Like Coffeeshop in an Alternate Universe, I don't think a postapocalyptic queer Vietnamese-American zombie coming-of-age story is really aimed at me. Unlike Coffeeship in an Alternate Universe, I thought the story was up to something interesting, and I thought it was well told. A strong sense of character and theme, and the kind of thing WSFS ought to be rewarding in the YA space, in my opinion.

1. Sunrise on the Reaping by Suzanne Collins

Though I enjoyed the original Hunger Games novels, especially the first, well enough, I went into this with a faint sense of dread. Did we really need a bunch of prequels? Particularly one about something as obvious as what Haymitch's go in the Hunger Games had been like? It felt like a cash-in. Well, my guess is the movies based on these prequels probably are cash-ins, and still no one's ever going to get me to go back to read The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, but I enjoyed this a lot. Like The Hunger Games, Collins explores what are obligations to one another are when survival is at stake. I found the contrast between Haymitch and Katniss very interesting. Katniss is very closed off emotionally: she doesn't really care about anyone other than herself and her family, it takes a lot for her to admit someone into her life. (This isn't a criticism of Katniss; I think she has good reasons to be this way.) This means that Katniss struggles when she becomes a political figure, because a politics of care is something she views with a lot of suspicion. What I didn't realize until reading this book about how different Haymitch is. If Katniss's problem is that she doesn't care about other people enough, Haymitch's is that he cares too much; he too readily admits other people into his emotional life. (This could be trite, I think, but Collins carries it off very well.) This is probably a good survival strategy in its own way... but yikes, what an awful attitude to have if you're going into a life-or-death struggle where you will literally have to kill everyone you meet! And indeed, that's what makes Sunrise on the Reaping so good: reading The Hunger Games, you knew things would turn out okay for Katniss to some degree. But reading Sunrise, you know that will not be the case for Haymitch. You know everyone he befriends will be dead, you know their deaths will accomplish nothing, you know Haymitch's plans will come to nothing, you know Haymitch will end up a depressed alcoholic whose greatest accomplishment was really nothing at all. And he's just a kid! Good stuff, in the sense that it really makes you feel awful.


Final Thoughts

I think Best Novel was... fine this year. Four of the six authors are repeat finalists in this category (and one of the others has been a finalist in many other categories), but none of them are so overrepresented as to make me grumpy, and I can see why they all were finalists even when I didn't particularly enjoy them. (Adrian Tchaikovsky doesn't do it for me, I guess, but I can see why he would do it for someone.) The Incandescent and The Everlasting in particular are books doing interesting things well, and even if I didn't enjoy Death of the Author, one can't deny Okorafor's trying to do something interesting too. And while some other categories were very samey this year (so many fairy tale riffs in the short fiction categories), you can't make that complaint about this lot. Mostly fantasy, unfortunately, but diverse fantasy at least.  
 
Based on RedditShroud will win... but I doubt it. Will Bennett repeat? I kind of think so. However, The Everlasting seems surprisingly popular. On the other hand, I don't think it will be Raven Scholar.
 
I always have Thoughts about Best Related Work: this year, three of six finalists are books, though another is a book-length blog post, so that's not too bad. But one of the books is nothing to do with sf, and clearly nominated on the basis of the author, not the topic. (Though I discuss A City on Mars as also not being sf above, it at least was nominated on the basis of its topic.) I am too lazy to go through the history of the award since 1980 to see if this has ever happened before, but it's unprecedented in my ten years of voting. Anyway, I really want to see Cuddled Little Vice win, it's clearly the best thing in the category by a mile. I would guess Ada Palmer has a real chance, though. Maybe Colourfields at the outside, though the previous Briardene finalists haven't won, and (to me) this is clearly the weakest.
 
Finally, I though this was a fine Lodestar ballot too. The tricky things about this category are 1) the Hugo electorate has weird tastes in YA fiction, and 2) a lot of this work is very much not for me. But there's always a couple things I enjoy the opportunity of experiencing, and this year was no exception: Sunrise on the Reaping and They Bloom at Night were both very good, and I'm glad this made me aware of Among Ghosts. I kind of feel like Sunrise will win; surely The Hunger Games would have had the award existed back when it came out. I am fairly certain neither Holy Terrors nor Oathbound will place well.

24 November 2025

Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, Book 3: Mockingjay

Many years ago, I taught The Hunger Games in a class on apocalyptic and postapocalyptic fiction. That was my first time reading the book, and periodically since then I've picked up the sequels. Quite a while later, that finally brings me to the third and final book.

Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins

Published: 2010
Acquired: September 2012
Read: August 2025
To be honest, I'm not really sure what I thought of it. Probably I'd have been more into it if I'd had more momentum carrying me into it; it's been six years since I read the second book and nine years since I read the first, and the three books originally came out across three years! To me, the interesting thing about the Hunger Games books has always been the tension between cooperation and isolation: what's the best tool for survival? Working with others or sticking on your own? Mockingjay pushes that further by putting Katniss amongst the rebels, who have to work together to survive... but in a very top-down authoritarian way. Katniss struggles under these strictures a lot.

Unfortunately, I found the novel a little tedious. Katniss's main role in the revolution—which continues one of the other big themes of the earlier books—is her image. But this is not always interesting to read about, and it seemed to me that having set up some interesting themes, the book spent a lot of time rehearsing them repetitiously rather than exploring them in a way where either Katniss or the reader is making progress.

I did like the last few chapters a lot. One Katniss joins the group storming the Capitol, and especially once the revolution wins, things get really interesting and bloody and complicated as this series has been at its best.

25 November 2019

Review: Hunger Games: Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins

Acquired July 2012
Read August 2019
Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins

I was a little worried about this book going in. I didn't have good memories of the film, where I felt the first half was rushed and the second half repeated the first film over again. Plus, I've recently read a lot of contemporary YA that had the same style the Hunger Games books do (first-person present-tense narration) and really bounced off most of them.

Well, I needn't have worried. The movie's first half is actually the novel's first two-thirds, as Katniss tries to navigate her new post-game life, balancing her personal needs with the needs of everyone around her. In the films, it's hard to care about the character I could only ever remember as not-Peeta, but in the books you see her struggle over Gale much more clearly because you're always in her thoughts, so even though Gale isn't actually there very much, you see her thinking about him. There are a lot of nice bits that didn't make it into the films, like Katniss and Peeta watching footage of Haymitch's games. The other tributes in the Quarter Quell feel more like real people, too.

The actual Hunger Game doesn't feel repetitive, either, mostly because Katniss's mindset is completely different. In the first book, it was mostly about keeping herself alive. Here, it's about keeping Peeta alive, and working with a team. Back when I read The Hunger Games, I argued that the point of the novel was to reveal that cooperation is our natural way of being, but oppressors disrupt that: "'Survival of the fittest' isn't a natural ethos, it's imposed on human beings by a small subset. The natural inclination of human beings, we are shown multiple times throughout the novel, is actually to cooperate with one another. It's only when a powerful force compels them that they fight with one another." The thing is, I'm not sure that Katniss really learned that lesson. She wants to look out for Peeta, but is bad at doing it; she is really bad at imagining that other people could possibly be looking out for her, and why. Catching Fire is about how far she has to go to learn about cooperation, because the Capitol has done such a good job of forcing its subjects to prioritize survival of the self above all other considerations. During the Games, she is constantly learning that other people want to help her, and underestimating them anyway. I look forward to seeing how Collins develops this in the final book; I saw the third film but not the fourth, so I don't know how it all ends.

Also: I kind of feel like Peeta is a wet blanket in the movies. In the books, his steadfastness quickly made him into my favorite character. I'm Team Peeta all the way. Not in the sense that I want Katniss to be with him romantically (she should pick whoever she wants), but in the sense that he is clearly a stand-up guy that deserves happiness.

20 July 2017

Review: The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

Trade paperback, 374 pages
Published 2012 (originally 2008)
Borrowed from my wife
Read August 2016
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

The last book I taught in my course on postapocalyptic literature was The Hunger Games. Of course, my class of 20-somethings had almost all read it before, or at least seen the film, and felt like they understood it, particularly as a work of dystopian fiction, and were skeptical that the apocalypse was a significant part of the novel. But I felt like there's something in the fact that in the 2010s, we think that what young adults really need to read is about the end of the world.

Like with Y: The Last Man, I ended up discussing it in the context of the "state of nature." A lot of postapocalyptic fiction, as Claire P. Curtis argues, features a return to this state, where society is free to start over again from the ground up, with new rules. We often view the state of nature as being about the "survival of the fittest": it's every man for himself. And indeed, that's exactly what we see in the Hunger Games, a struggle to survive where only one can win.

But if you look more closely at The Hunger Games, it doesn't suggest that the apocalypse leads to the survival of the fittest, to a terrible world where everyone looks out for number one. The Hunger Games are created by human beings. "Survival of the fittest" isn't a natural ethos, it's imposed on human beings by a small subset. The natural inclination of human beings, we are shown multiple times throughout the novel, is actually to cooperate with one another. It's only when a powerful force compels them that they fight with one another. The idea that there can only be one survivor isn't actually part of the state of nature; it's a human imposition.

That's how The Hunger Games participates in the genre of postapocalyptic literature. It takes place after the apocalypse, but reveals that when the apocalypse returns us to the state of nature, people don't turn on each other, but tend to cooperate. What is passed off as the "state of nature" is actually a tool of the elites designed to oppress us. Nature is about cooperation, but those in power don't want us to know that and work to make sure we fight for resources that everyone could share. Like in a lot of science fiction, of course, the future is really a commentary on the world we live in, too. In a weird way, it's sort of optimistic. Human beings really are good-- we just have to break out of the artificially imposed system as Katniss and Peeta do at the novel's end in order to see it.