April 23, 2012

Lyrically Speaking

Music is the shorthand of emotion.
—Leo Tolstoy
I drove to Las Vegas and back this weekend. Twelve hours in the car by myself -- just me, my iPod, a few podcasts, and 4GB of my very favorite songs. This makes more happy than it probably should, and honestly, spending this time with the music I love is half the reason I like to take roadtrips in the first place.

I'm mostly a lyric person. The musical accompaniment often feels secondary to me, and I have to focus to hear it. Chalk it up to my affinity for words. A good lyric can really turn my head. Often when I hear a lyric that makes me think, or one that just makes me smile, my need to share can be satisfied by a simple Facebook update. But this weekend there were just too many. I've had to resort to a blog post!

So here is a collection of the top 25  lines I absolutely loved hearing this weekend. Some of them make me smile, some of them make me think, and some of them just plain sound good. See how many you recognize!
  • You give me courage I didn't know I had. ... I can't go with you and stay where I am.
  • He looks around and around, he sees angels in the architecture, spinning in infinity, he says "amen" and "hallelujah." (For some reason that I don't know how to articulate quite, this whole line just feels good in my mouth when I sing it. Maybe it's all the great repetitive vowel sounds.)
  • So I will share this room with you, and you can have this heart to break.
  • It's the chance of a lifetime in a lifetime of chance, and it's high time you joined in the dance.
    (I know, it's a horse race, but it feels like the line applies to human life in general, too.)
  • I just have to hear those sweet words spoken like a melody.
  • Someone I am is waiting for courage. The one I want, the one I will become, will catch me. (Makes me think of change and failure, growth and becoming.)
  • I can't give you what you think you gave me. (That "what you think" is so key and so fascinating)
  • Pack up the babies and grab the old ladies 'cause everyone goes, everyone knows about Brother Love's show. (What a hilarious image!)
  • I've been searching for something taken out of my soul; something I'd never lose, something somebody stole.
  • When you spot a John waiting out in the rain, chances are he's insane as only a John can be for a Jane. (Oh, what fun rhyming!)
  • I've seen your flag on the marble arch, and love is not a victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.
  • My head is saying, "Fool, forget him." My heart is saying, "Don't let go."
  • Agony! Oh, the torture they teach. What's as intriguing or half so fatiguing as what's out of reach? (Related line: Dwarfs are very upsetting...)
  • For, heaven rest us, I'm not asbestos. (What a great rhyme!)
  • She asks me how the cat's been. I say, "Moses, he's just fine."(The cat's name is Moses?! Awesome!)
  • Cling to the Father and His Holy Name, and don't go riding on that long, black train.
  • Now every day I wake again in a house that might have been a home.
  • LA's fine but it ain't home; New York's home but it ain't mine no more. (Interesting thoughts on home and place and belonging.)
  • I can only give you love that lasts forever, and the promise to me near each time you call. And the only heart I own, for you and you alone, that's all. That's all. (Here I could put the whole song. LOVE it!)
  • You are the sun, I am the moon; you are the words, I am the tune. Play me.
  • Larry the Cucumber presents, in a sequential image, stereophonic, multi-media event, The Song of the Cebu! (teehehe)
  • Wasn't the spring, then spring became the summer. Who'd have believed you'd come along?
  • The smile on your face lets me know that you need me. There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me. The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall. (A beautiful sentiment, attached to a specific treasured memory for me.)
  • I shouldn't be wearin' white and you can't afford no ring...(ha!)
  • You're so nice. You're not good, you're not bad. You're just nice.

Yeah... music makes me happy. Thanks for indulging my need to share it!

April 17, 2012

The Hunger Games Trilogy – fin

To read without reflecting is like eating without digesting.
—Edmund Burke
 
First, an obligatory spoiler alert: Do not read this if you have yet to read all three Hunger Games books. I plan to talk frankly about the books and will not veil any references to specific events, even the happenings at the very end. Consider yourself warned.

And a quick shout out to my coworkers (you know who you are) who endured my vocal wrestling with the story as I read it. They heard a lot about my frustrations and reactions as the story unfolded for me. Once I’d finished the books and said my piece, one commented, “You think a lot more about what you read than I do.” And another asked if all this analysis was something I choose to do, or is it just programmed into me. Honestly, it’s just programmed in – the byproduct of years of studying literature. But it’s also really, really fun for me, so at some level I’m sure I'm choosing it as well.

And finally, this gets long. I know it. Bear with me; you'll be glad you did. Honestly, my favorite ideas are at the end. Ok, here we go...

You may remember I had some frustrations at the end of the first book. Most of those were resolved by the end of the series. I still think it was a horrible way to end a book, and I still dislike the book as a unit. I am, however, satisfied with the series as a whole, but reservedly so. Truthfully, I wouldn’t read it again, I’m not eager to see the movie, and I’ll likely only recommended the series to a select few.

That said, I applaud Suzanne Collins for creating a world that feels somewhat foreign and yet mimics our own so exactly. The Capitol amazingly and precisely mirrors some aspects of our own consumer culture. The fact that everywhere I look I’m reminded of the Capitol speaks to how well she grafted our culture to the Capitol’s. 

For instance, I recently read a newspaper article about high-end hotels, where image and first impression are everything and the guest experience is managed and designed from the moment they step in the door. Image. Pleasure. Perception of luxury. The Capitol. Caesar Flickerman’s pre-game interviews ring as true as any late night talk show lineup. Staged costumes, coached participants, and easy banter. Is it NBC, or is it the Capitol? And notice how many commercials are all about appearance and fashion, or luxury and ease, or status and position. Totally the Capitol. 

I also applaud her for creating a story that drew me in and made me feel. Granted, a lot of those feelings were not necessarily positive. I felt a lot of frustration and shock and anger and sadness and more frustration. But I did cry with Katniss when she waited for word of Peeta’s rescue, and I was so bothered by her at times, I may have actually chastised her aloud once or twice. So, kudos to Suzanne Collins for writing a story that hooked me.

And kudos (maybe?) for teaching a new generation of cynics to realize that anything can be staged; that just because it’s on TV, even on the news, doesn’t mean it’s 100% accurate; that clever editing and coerced performances can create the illusion of an organized rebellion until it becomes a reality. And here’s hoping some really good parents and teachers can help turn that cynicism into stellar critical thinking skills.

So, the series has its good points, but I think there may be a fundamental problem with a book whose main character is so – bothersome.

Katniss. Oh she bugged me. A lot. A few examples: In the second games, the group is gifted 24 pieces of bread from District 3 several times in a row. Katniss knows that gifts in the arena are messages, and she doesn’t even suspect this repeated gift might be significant? She’s smarter than that, or at least I thought she was. And remember how at one point she is ready and eager to stay with Gale and be part of a rebellion in District 12? Then, when she discovers there already is a rebellion, and she’s going to be part of it – a big part of it, even – she’s so angry at the rebels who brought her into it that she actually refuses to help. Not cool. And frankly, these are just a few instances in a long line of inconsistent behavior. 

But I think the biggest bother was her… I don’t even know what to call it. Delusions of grandeur? Superiority complex? Maybe even some sort of survivor guilt? Regardless, I got very tired of her lamenting all the death she thinks she has caused: “I did this.” “They’re dead because of me.”  Over and over and over again. No. You did not. Someone, without your knowledge, took actions, unrelated to your wishes, which resulted in deaths that you did not condone. You are not remotely responsible for their actions, and you are much less powerful than you believe. Stop the “woe is me” and assign responsibility where it really belongs.

Which leads right into another gripe. Katniss, the purported heroine of this story, really doesn't do a lot. She is the face of the rebellion, but not much else. She is as manipulated by District 13 and the Gamemakers as anyone. And while in the end she finally plays a role that she herself chooses (in shooting Coin), that is just about the only time. 

I was also somewhat bothered by the heavy-handed lines that are so clearly the point Collins wants readers to take away from the story. When Katniss asks Plutarch if he’s preparing for another war, he replies, “Not now. Now we’re in that sweet period where everyone agrees that our recent horrors should never be repeated. But collective thinking is usually short-lived. We’re fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction.”  The trouble is, this point (about fickle, stupid beings) isn’t necessarily something she develops naturally or that she lets come to light gradually. In fact, the sentences are so out of character for Plutarch, and indeed so different in tone from the rest of the series, that she might as well have outlined them in neon green and drawn pink arrows pointing to them. As it is, they land with an audible Thunk! This is my point. And now you know. It’s a good point, but I felt knocked over the head with it. (It’s YA lit. I know. But still…)

And I do still have questions. The biggest question, of course, is who is responsible for bombing the Capitol children outside Snow’s mansion – Snow or Coin? The Capitol or the rebels? The real answer, though, is that it doesn’t matter. They are two sides of the same coin, really. And this, I believe, is why Katniss kills Coin instead of Snow when she has the chance. You might argue (rightly) that it’s because she suspects Coin to be behind the blasts that end up killing Prim. But I think there’s more to it than simple revenge for her sister. This suspicion, coupled with Coin’s suggestion of another Hunger Games, show Katniss that Coin and Snow are the same. Fundamentally, nothing would change because both do whatever it takes to get what they want. Snow and Coin are fighting for power, while the districts are fighting for freedom. These are not remotely the same.

So, while it might not matter in the end which despot dropped the final bombs, there are some questions that really need to be answered. And they're not.
  • Did Madge know the Mockingjay was a symbol of the rebels when she insisted Katniss wear it in the games? And why does Katniss never ask her about it later?
  • Who is Cinna? How is he involved in the rebellion? Was it just dumb luck that he was Katniss’s stylist?
  • Just how far back does this rebellion go? How long has Katniss been groomed to be the face of it? Even to the first games? Or before?
  • Why does Boggs give her command? And why does she proceed, believing she’s following his last directives (because she trusts him), but conveniently ignores the one to kill Peeta?
  • And if District 13 bombed the Capitol kids, did they also bomb the hospital in 8, the event that got Katniss enraged enough to perform well on camera for the rebellion?
  • And if District 13 bombed the hospital in District 8, who really destroyed District 12?
There are more questions, ones I think she intentionally left unanswered; truthfully, they'd make a for a good prequel. But I still wonder:
  • What happened when Haymitch won the games? What happened to his family? He was once dating Katniss’ mother. What happened there?
  • Was the mine blast that killed her father really an accident?
  • Why did her mother so strictly forbid the hanging tree song?
  • Why did District 13 rebel in the first place? What happened there in the intervening 75 years?
And finally, the most gnawing question I have, the most inexplicably unanswered, is this: Why in the world are the games even called the Hunger Games? As far as I can see, there’s no explanation for the origin of the name. And since it’s the event that the whole story hangs on, so significant that it’s even the name of the series, it would seem to warrant an explanation as to how the name came to be. That, to me, is a significant oversight.

And now I’m done.
Well, I’m done until you tell me what you thought of the books. Then I’ll have more to say, I’m sure!

April 5, 2012

The Hunger Games—Part One

To read without reflecting is like eating without digesting.
—Edmund Burke
Remember when I picked on The Sound of Music? Good times. This is another post like that one—except that was all in fun. This time I'm honestly frustrated and have a bone or three to pick with Suzanne Collins.
Late last night I finished the first book of The Hunger Games trilogy, and frankly I was bothered—though not in the ways you might think.  After ranting about it this morning to three separate coworkers, I was still riled up about it—maybe writing it all out will help exorcize my concerns.
#1 – The games. I don't buy the premise for the Hunger Games.  As I understand it, the requirement to send a tribute is a punishment for the rebellion that ended in the destruction of District 13, right?  Something about this doesn't quite make sense to me. I'm a big-picture person, and this smacks of "We do it because it's been done for 74 years. That's why. End of story."  Granted, this may really be all that Katniss understands about it, and since the whole story is narrated from inside her head, I can accept it if that's all SHE knows about the Hunger Games. Is it too much to hope that she (and thus I) will learn more satisfactory answers to how the games came about and the purpose behind them? If not, I will be very disappointed.
I do appreciate that the games are like Survivor on steroids. So maybe Ms. Collins and I at least agree on the ridiculousness of reality TV….
#2 – The ending. Granted, my reaction is likely colored by the fact that I finished the book at 1 a.m. I was beyond ready to go to bed, but I was so close to the end, I kept reading.  Except, the end of the book was no ending at all. They're about to step off the train, and … scene. It feels like a fine chapter ending, but not the end of a whole volume. For this I stayed up way too late? Yeah, I was bugged.
I was expecting at least a little bit of closure. As my coworker put it, "A book should end with a door closing, not a door opening." Amen. Close the door. Even if all the windows are still open (fodder for the next installment, of course), for heaven's sake, at least close the door!
Plus, my dystopian sci-fi spidey sense kept tingling—there are so many things in the book that raise questions or that are obviously significant.  But not one of those questions was answered and not one of my "this is significant" thoughts bore fruit. I didn't need her to tie everything up in a nice little bow; I'm anti-bow-tying anyway. Plus, it is only the first installment of a trilogy – I get that. There's more to come. But I would have liked something in this first book, some element fully explained, some understanding of how pieces fit together. Leave threads for the next book, for sure. That's fine. But now, at the end of book one, I can't necessarily trust that I'll ever get the answers I want because I haven't gotten any thus far.
#3 – Sentence Fragments. There were a lot. You may have gathered from my writing that I am a fan of sentence fragments—and I am. But this was excessive. I understand, we're in Kat's head, and people don't think in complete sentences. But people don't think with punctuation either. Punctuation exists to make sense of words and ideas expressed on paper. Not everything requires a full stop. Granted, I probably didn't notice 80% of the sentence fragments. Most of them worked just fine in context. However, the 20% that called attention to themselves were really, well, bothersome.
To be fair, I audibly gasped when Rue is stabbed with the spear. I genuinely like Peeta. And I did stay up way too late, more than once, reading it. It is entertaining and enjoyable, and I plan to read the other books. I was just bothered, at one in the morning, with the ending of the first installment.