At the beginning of last year, I stumbled on a book that has been the toast of the literary town lately: The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins. Katniss Everdeen, and her romantic, political, physical, and moral struggles have captivated audiences around the world, of all ages, sizes, colours, and whatever other descriptives you can think of.
This book - the entire trilogy - has been hailed as the next great series.
Hm. Yeah.
In the last coupla weeks, I've mowed through the first two books and am anxiously waiting for the last one.
I cracked the book open with a sense of trepidation and hope: the questions that run through your head as you begin a book that's been raved about.
Will this be my next favourite book?
Is this book REALLY as good as they say?
Is this the beginning of a beautiful relationship?
(Yes, I have been single for a while. But you can't deny, a new book is a lot like meeting a new Potential Paramour.)
I mowed through the first book in a couple of hours, but my initial reaction?
meh.
MEH.
Seriously, 24 kids are sent to KILL EACH OTHER, there are complex, interesting relationships and political ties between characters, and my reaction????
"Meh."
ARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGH................
Look, THG is a really cool book. But I COULDN'T ENJOY IT!
The expectations! The rave reviews! The awesome covers!
TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING.
The build up was just too much - no book could have been the epic personal journey that it was set up as.
Then I read the second one: Catching Fire.
That one actually DID disappoint at first, but after about fifty pages, it got pretty good (see that? That is me underselling the book. In all actuality, it got REALLY GOOD, but I was trying to save you from my Tragic Fate). Then, in a fire of uncertainty and unreasonable anger at epically long waiting lists at the library, I broke like a stale cookie in a toddler's clammy fist and peeked at Mockingjay's plot on Wikipedia.
*Cue self-loathing*
So now, I have ruined the last book for myself (heh. But I do have the power to ruin it for my [nonexistent?] readers), and I have been left with the sad realization that no matter what I do, at some point, high expectations will not be met.
Some argue that logically, the thing to do is to have the lowest expectations possible.
I have subscribed to this Train of Thought before, and while momentarily gratifying, hope is something that we shouldn't just dismiss. When we hope, we are happy. I mean, if you have been, say, single FOREVER, you could just stay home all the time and cultivate facial hair, because you're realistically never going to meet your SoulMate. But if you get up out of bed and put on some of your favourite clothing and then go out to the library or local cafe or just for a walk - your chances of meeting someone shoot through the roof. (I hate to burst someone's bubble, but a hot Jehovah's Witness is NOT just going to show up on a day when you are wearing your cute pajamas. Seriously. I believe in fairies, but even *I* know that smokin' JH's do not coincide with Cute Days. Let it go.)
So basically, to sum up this uberlong, uberwindy and bendy post:
1. DO NOT OVERSELL THINGS LIKE BOOKS. Or movies. Or TV.
2. THG books are good books. Not great. But they are interesting, and easy to read. Also, they make you think. (RRRRGH, MUST STOP URGE TO OVERSELL!!!!)
3. Don't look up plot spoilers. It makes you feel superior and trashy. Not a good combo.
4. Hope is good. Keep it alive.
5. Buy cute pajamas. Because you never know what might happen.
6. Get outside. That's right, close this window, stand up, and vacate the premises. Breath. Smile at people.
And have a nice day.
Sincerely,
AT/RR
