Ever since I finished Catching Fire, book two in Suzanne Collins' magnificent series The Hunger Games, I have been dreaming up endings for the series, having the book culminate in a Harry Potter-esque final battle, losing a few favored characters. I pictured myself shedding a few tears, but being content after the revelation about the goodness of mankind and the continuation of the main characters in their happy lives.
How wrong my ending turned out to be.
Mockingjay is the third book in a trilogy by Suzanne Collins, about a futuristic world divided into 12 Districts, all under the control of the Capitol. Every year, to remind the people of what it was like before the Capitol took over, the Capitol hosts The Hunger Games, in which each district sends 2 tributes, a boy and a girl, to fight to the death in an arena. Katniss Everdeen, from the poorest District, 12, chooses to replace her little sister as the tribute. Throughout the series, her actions launch a rebellion against the Capitol.
Mockingjay came out while I was at the beach with three of my best friends. On that Tuesday, Lucy and I raced to the tiny bookstore on the island and immediately purchased our copies, excited to find out what happened to Katniss- especially as regards Peeta, who we all know is her soulmate! We both wrapped up the books we were reading then, and the next day dove straight into Mockingjay.
Right off the bat, it wasn't what I expected. After the cliffhanger ending of Catching Fire, I had pictured District 13 as a welcoming, thriving rebel base, eager to praise Katniss. Instead, I was met with the cold machine of District 13 under President Coin. And such was the case for the rest of the book: where I expected cuddly and comforting, I got cold and harsh. Where I expected neatly wrapped and tied up, I got messy and confusing. Where I expected love, I got hate. Suffice it to say that Mockingjay was a very depressing book to read for one with expectations as fairy-tale as mine. It wasn't that the plot threw twists and turns at every opportunity, but rather that to my well-read mind, I thought I knew the general flavor of this book. Isn't every dramatic conclusion to a series filled with danger, but also a confidence in winning the battle? Isn't there a certainty that your main character won't die? Isn't there an epilogue showing everything right in the world after a climactic battle? Think again, Abby. Suzanne Collins follows no pattern.
As I became more and more entrenched in the book, things got worse. Nothing went according to plan, and hope of my surviving the overthrow of the Capitol seemed grim. As things built towards a final battle and people began dying, I fell deeper into a depressed mindset. How could Suzanne Collins allow these things to happen? How did this work towards a happy ending?
It was then I realized that it didn't. Collins, unlike me, doesn't believe in fairy-tale endings. She believes in realistic endings. This became all the more clear as I read to the very end. Finishing the book curled up in my bed, I just lay there, thinking it over, reliving the vivid battle scenes, feeling numb. Numb because I didn't want things to end this way. Numb because so many people I loved died. Numb because the cruelty of some people astonished me. And numb because Katniss is numb. What Collins does in the ending shows a masterful understanding of the human psyche, something that has intrigued me after finishing this book. Collins truly understands the effects of being put into an arena to fight to the death (twice). She understands the hatred and harshness that develops in you because of it, and that is why in one particular scene it seems as though all the work of the rebels resulted only in falling back into the same patterns of the Games. She understands that the bond of Katniss and Peeta runs so deep because of their experiences together in the arena. And so, while it isn't a happy ending, it is a realistic ending. Where Hunger Games was a sci-fi, action book, and Catching Fire a love triangle, Mockingjay is simply hard truths, hard decisions, hard hearts. Excellent, yes, the right end to the series. But a hard book to read.
As an aspiring author and an unabashed romantic, it's so hard for me to have anything but a fairy-tale ending for my characters. I so badly want everything to turn out right, everything to fix itself. It comes from my love of Disney movies and Elsie Dinsmore books and Taylor Swift songs and Jane Austen novels, which I've loved from an early age. It's resulted in my expectations of real life to be just like a fairy-tale, which it isn't. Time and time again, I've been disappointed that life didn't turn out the way I expected: when I didn't get my Hogwarts letter, when Peter Pan didn't appear in my window one night, when I started high school and wasn't accosted by cute boys, when I got a ticket within the first few months of getting my license and had to go to court. I'm trying to learn the difference between fiction, fairy-tales, and real life. Because for a dreamer like me, it's hard to live in the real world when your world is a fairy-tale.
