I know there are hundreds of reviews of The Hunger Games out there, but I’m going to go ahead and add mine to the mix because, why not?

There are some small spoilers in this review if you haven’t read the book/seen the movie yet. Just a warning.

I really enjoyed this movie. It is by far one of the better book to movie adaptations I’ve ever seen. Usually I’m at least a little bit disappointed when a book becomes a movie, but in this case I’m very satisfied. They pulled it off in a way that will both satisfy fans of the book and be enjoyable to those who haven’t read it. Yes, there are scenes I wish hadn’t been cut (aren’t there always?), but I didn’t even realize it until I stopped to think abotu them later.

The screenwriting was also great. They managed to fix one of the major issues with the book – that of Katniss explaining every little thing to the audience. The movie really pulls off the “show don’t tell” adage better than the book. In fact, the screenwriting fixed several of the issues with the book. Katniss is still vulnerable and obviously a kid, but she’s more competent. The behind-the-scenes action at District 11 after Rue’s death definitely set up the idea of Katniss being the figurehead that sparks the rebellion for the later books (even if I did miss the scene where they send her the bread, I understand why they changed it). The only complaint I’d have with all that, really, is that they didn’t show how tenuous her situation was at the end of the movie as well as they did in the book. In the final interviews in the book, you are well aware that one wrong movie could be disastrous for her, but the movie isn’t as intense.

They also pulled off the setting really well. First person narratives are very hard to successfully turn into movies and one that is so internal like Hunger Games presents all kinds of problems. They managed to avoid this by adding in a few external scenes to set up what was going on (again without Katniss having to explain). I loved the ones showing the Gamemakers controlling everything from the computers.

The scenery was amazing. The Capitol, oh my god. When the train pulls around and you get that first look, just, wow. The juxtaposition between the poverty and hardship of District 12 with the opulence of The Capitol was pointed, yet not overly so. You noticed, but it wasn’t shoved down your throat.

I was a bit unsure about some of the casting at first (ahem, Peeta), but within a few minutes they convinced me. Jennifer Lawrence, as always, was great and, despite not being physically matched to the character, Josh Hutcherson really pulled off a convincing Peeta. Stanley Tucci as Cesar Flickerman was perfect. He managed to make Cesar come off as completely clueless about how bad the situation really is and yet still really likeable. I will have to say, though, that Elizabeth Banks and Woody Harrolson were my favorites. Any scene with the two of them together cracked me up.

The only major complaint I have is with the camera work at the beginning of the movie. The first 15 minutes or so it was very shaky and I had to look away a few times to keep from getting a headache. After that they either fixed the issue or I didn’t notice it anymore. Aside from that, the camera work really balanced out the action.

Definitely go see this. It’s an enjoyable movie if you haven’t read the book. If you have, you’ll be able to enjoy it on a deeper level when you see how well they’ve interpreted it.

This semester has been quite the doozy.  I’m taking more classes than usual this semester.  When registering, I was torn between a class I was dying to take and one I knew would be really useful, so I decided to take both. I’m loving my classes, of course, but I have definitely been very busy and unable to post much here.  Luckily, today marks the first day of my Spring Break, so soon I’ll be able to add all those posts I’ve had brewing, but didn’t have time to finish writing.  Until then, though, I wanted to share a few links I enjoyed recently.

John Green has an excellent argument for why pirating books is different than checking them out from the library.

Pheobe North at YA Highway writes about celebrating the complicated girl in fiction.

One of my classmates this semester wrote a great piece about the queer perspective and librarianship over at Hack Library School.

20SomethingReads recently launched and so far it’s pretty cool.  It’s nice to have a site specifically for a demographic that often gets ignored.  Now if we could just get the publishing world to recognize that niche more often!

FYA has been running a YA March Madness Bracket.  They’re down to the division finals.

Here is a fun collection of complaints scrawled by monks in the margins of illuminated manuscripts.  I love this, since I recently complete my own study of a fascinating illuminated manuscript.

New Yorker John Locke is creating guerrilla pay phone libraries.

“When you least expect it…bears”

And, finally, because it’s all anyone can talk about right now (and lord knows I love it, too), some Hunger Games stuff:

In a review that really captures how I felt, YA author Galye Forman explains why the lack of really graphic violence worked and how it feels to watch the movie.

Laura Miller at Slate discusses what the Hunger Games says about fandom and the “cultural clout of young female readers.”

MTV has a list of the 5 best scenes not in the movie.  I wholeheartedly agree with the 3rd and 5th.

Bitch Magazine has a post about the irony of Hunger Games marketing.

I, along with most of the rest of the world it seems, am eagerly awaiting the release of the Hunger Games movie. It seems like there is a new article, photo, or video every day to help build up the hype. Recently I became aware of the existence of two very interesting marketing tie ins.

The first, announced a few weeks ago, is China Glaze’s Hunger Games Nail Polish line. It’s a collection of colors supposedly based on each of the districts, with names like Electrify (for District 5 – power), Foie Gras (for District 10 – livestock) and Smoke and Ashes (District 12, of course).

From Hollywood Life

The second is the online Hunger Games fashion magazine, Capitol Couture. The magazines masthead states:

Whether you’re a Capitol fashionista seeking inspiration for your latest look or a District citizen tracking rumors about the Tributes and other celebs, Capitol Couture is the only place to turn for pictures and news reports on the fashion, trends and lifestyle that make Capitol living so grand.

While I fully admit to reading the magazine and I would certainly wear that nail polish, the whole idea of them leaves me with mixed feelings. I understand the idea behind marketing tie-ins and with a series that does comment on fashion quite frequently it’s an obvious choice. It seems like every day there is a new post or photo about the costumes. Capitol Couture, especially, seems exactly like something the residents of The Capitol would read. Using these tie-ins to bring attention to the movie and the book is to be expected. They could even be an excellent way to comment on the attitudes of The Capitol and their obsession with extreme personal appearance. However, I wonder if focusing so much on the fashion is causing everyone to forget what these books are ultimately about – a totalitarian government forcing children to kill other children for entertainment. Where’s the nail polish color for that?

Ultimate Opinion: Loved It

From the book jacket:

Mia had everything: a loving family, a gorgeous, adoring boyfriend, and a bright future full of music and full of choices. Then, in an instant, almost all of that is taken from her. Caught between life and death, between a happy past and an unknowable future, Mia spends one critical day contemplating the only decision she has left- the most important decision she’ll ever make.

Simultaneously tragic and hopeful, this is a romantic, riveting, and ultimately uplifting story about memory, music, living, dying, loving.

When I first heard about this book soon after it was published I wasn’t sure what to think.  I knew this type of subject could easily veer into the maudlin or the preachy if not handled with care.  I put off reading it in favor of other books on my list, but enticed by the positive things I’d been hearing (and finding myself in possession of a few B&N gift cards burning a hole in my wallet) I decided to give it a shot.  I’m now kicking myself for not picking it up as soon as I first heard of it.

I’ll admit to a liking for books that can adequately and simply express grief.  They don’t have to be poetic or exceptionally eloquent or even all that sad.  They just have to touch that part of you that knows what it’s like to really experience hurt and loss.  There’s something really beautiful about being able to express something as personal and unique as grief in such a universal way.  I’ve read a few books lately that are able to do this clearly (Looking for Alaska, Sisterhood Everlasting, Lamb just to name a few) and I’d certainly add If I Stay to this list.  It’s not dramatic and it’s not wrenching, but there are parts of it that will just break your heart.  And there are parts that will put it back together again.

Forman’s writing style isn’t complicated; it’s pretty simplistic, actually.  This works well for the subject matter, though.  The words themselves take a backseat to Mia’s experiences and memories instead of masking them with lyrical language.  After a few pages the reader is concentrating less on the actual words and more on the story as a whole.  The narrative structure is less straightforward.  Alternating between minutes spent in the hospital at the present and Mia’s memories of her past slowly reveals her life, which helps give a context and add gravity to her decision.  The novel is very internal.  The reader sees and feels everything through Mia.  Because of that, I found myself just as conflicted about the decision she should make as she was.

Though the subject matter might seem dark – a girl deciding whether to live or die – it’s more bittersweet than morbid.  it’s certainly become one of my go-to books if I want to spend a little time considering life (and if I want a good cry!).

Today, the fantastic Maureen Johnson linked to this article, the latest in the attacks on what kids are reading. The author’s argument is…odd, to say the least, especially for an educator of at-risk youth. The first thing that struck me was how this article was simply dripping with disdain for his students. Obviously, I don’t know Nazaryan or really know anything about him, but if I were to base my view solely on this one article I would guess that not only did he not understand his students, but he felt he was above them. This is not an appropriate attitude for a teacher to have. It’s a pretty harmful one, in fact. His disdain for his students isn’t the point of the article, however. He compounds this harmful attitude with the opinion that (with the apparent exception of Sappho) long-dead, white, male authors are the only ones worthy of reading. To quote:

We need less Myers and more Homer – and not in Cambridge and Oxford, but in Bedford-Stuyvesant and Southside Chicago. …Do I congratulate myself? Very well, I congratulate myself. I hit upon an idea – with plenty of help from my colleagues at the Brooklyn Latin School – and I want others to emulate it. I want them to put away the Walter Dean Myers and dust off Homer, Virgil, Sappho, all of Beard’s bemoaned lot.

I have two problems with this stance. First, while I agree that teaching classic and “literary” literature should be a part of the high school curriculum, why must primarily works by privileged white men be all that’s taught? There was no mention of the myriad of excellent writing by authors of color, authors without privilege, or other female authors. This could have been merely an oversight on his part instead of intentional, of course, but wouldn’t an English teacher who really valued those other works have made sure to mentioned them? Academia has a history of ignoring minority and female writers, but many schools are attempting to remedy this. Instead, it seems Nazaryan would have us move in the other direction. This would be bad enough in a school full of upper-class white students, but to do so in a school full of underprivileged minority students it’s pretty shameful. Actually, you know what, no. It’s shameful in either case. All students should be exposed to a variety of authors and their viewpoints, not just those of the privileged white male. By telling students that white males are the only authors worth reading, he’s telling every one of them who isn’t a white male that their own opinions and contributions and experiences are somehow less.

My second problem is with his view that young adult literature that mirrors the lives of the students is not worth reading. As I’ve written before, I believe that YA literature can and should hold an important place in the classroom. Since I’ve covered it recently, I won’t expound on that view again here, but, suffice it to say, his view that non-classic literature is not worth reading does not improve my opinion of his argument.

He also espouses the idea that literature’s sole purpose is to elevate. He says:

I think that because I am an unashamed, unapologetic believer that the purpose of literature is to elevate. Not to entertain, to problematize or to instruct, but to take what Hamlet called our “unweeded garden” and revel in its thorns. Not to make the world pretty, but to make it true, and by making it true, make it beautiful. All real art is high art.

This, in essence, makes him a literary snob. Having been an English major at a small liberal arts college, I am very familiar with this particular brand of literary snob. Now, despite disagreeing with their opinion, them holding said opinion isn’t a problem. Having high standards or preferring a certain type of literature is perfectly valid. To each his own. However, when that opinion is thrust upon another, particularly students who are still trying to form their own opinions, that’s when it becomes a problem. Nazaryan wasn’t lamenting that his students weren’t reading. He was pointing out that they were reading the “wrong” types of literature. Wrong, of course, being determined by his own standards. Standards which are seemingly based not on educational value, but by personal opinion.

The other problem with this is that he doesn’t seem to realize all that’s contradictory in his claim. He states that the purpose of literature is not to entertain, but then uses the fact that it entertained his students as reason for his methods to be valid. He claims that it shouldn’t instruct, but seems unaware that much of the classic literature he loves did have instructional purposes. He wants literature to make the world true, but doesn’t understand that the classics aren’t the only works that can do that. He seems to have a very narrow view of what is the truth of the world. Why couldn’t the truth of the world be the one the students are experiencing? Why shouldn’t they be allowed to read about their own truth instead of his? Why should their experiences be silenced, while those he believes are right are emulated?

One of the most common complaints of young non-white readers is the dearth of literature that imitates their own lives and experiences. I’ve heard and read time and time again of complaints by readers that there aren’t enough narrators that look, sound, or act like them. If there are books by a well-respected, award-winning writer that the students not only relate to, but devour, who is Nazaryan or anyone to tell them that they shouldn’t be reading them? That they’re not worthy? I am of the opinion that any reading is good reading. The fact that the students – some of whom, as he said, had “a 5-year-old’s command of the English language” – were reading at all is what’s important. To try to stop them from doing so simply because he thought the books they were reading were “insipid” (And really? Insipid? Is he serious?) is irresponsible. Encouraging them to expand their horizons and exposing them to more difficult literature is one thing. But claiming that it should only the classics and nothing else is ridiculous. Why can’t it be both? Why can’t a student enjoy Virgil and Meyer? Why couldn’t he, as a teacher and authority figure, show his students that literature is a diverse field to be explored and enjoyed, instead of yet another clique filled with only the “right” people?

I’ve not doubt that Nazaryan had the best intentions, but that doesn’t excuse his misguided viewpoint. I admire his drive to push his students to go beyond what was expected and beyond their situations, but, unfortunately, his methods in doing so just took them out of one box and put them in another.