No more SUNRISE ON THE REAPING - Alexa Hinton
“And that’s part of our trouble. Thinking things are inevitable. Not believing change is possible.”
Reader, I have been a long time fan of the Hunger Games original trilogy. Like, cried in my room for days when I finished the books, went to see a double feature of Mockingjay part 1 and 2 (with my best friend who begrudgingly agreed to do me this favor), and bought The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes the day it came out. As a baby of the 2000’s, I’m always drawn in by a good dystopian landscape. There was something about believing that one person can make all the difference that helped me gain confidence as a teenager. I found hope in these stories when I was young, honestly, because Katniss was such a dislikable person and she was still perfectly fit for the path she carved for herself. Any time I feel I’m being annoying or unlikeable I remind myself that I am exactly who I’m supposed to be. I can’t say that I recommend these books to everyone, though. They were an absolute gut-punch to get through. But, like with any good story, I came out on the other side better for it. If the original trilogy gave me hope, Sunrise on the Reaping gave me resolve. This story doesn’t end with goodness prevailing. It ends in the middle of a nasty, drawn-out, reign of terror against an already oppressed group. It ends with a character so lost in despair that the only thing left to do is fight; but fight how? I finished this book feeling beaten down, but ultimately determined to see my fight through no matter how long it may take.
I always appreciated the raw honesty that the series presents; it just took a while for everyone to understand that the play is, in fact, about us. I can’t imagine today not seeing Suzanne Collins’ blatant plays on propaganda and the media. How she crafted a bloodthirsty world and yet every death served a purpose towards ending a callous regime. The way Katniss’ specific form of PTSD curls into her character as she is used by more people than just President Snow. The capital literally applying the ancient concept of ‘bread and circuses’ to keep its citizens satiated enough to quell revolt and then twisting a knife into those boundaries repeatedly. We live in a world like this in some ways because we are trending in a direction of desensitization. I'm even on a path towards desensitization myself- there is only so much information and worldwide distress one person can handle. And that’s the way they win; by stacking so much hatred and violence and pain on top of people that they can’t fight back. Sunrise on the Reaping pushed this idea to its extreme. Why don’t people fight back when they are so mercilessly crushed at the smallest misstep? What does it really take to start a revolution and how long can a people stay on the edge? It is a ruthless undressing of war and dissent when faced with seemingly insurmountable violence. But, it also provided a glimmer of hope and understanding that no matter the odds, change is possible.
“She’s not an easy person; she’s like me," Peeta always says. “But she was smarter than me, or luckier.”
The original trilogy gaining a major following and subsequently the messaging becoming distorted by the media is a masterclass in missing the point. The media, and fans of the films/books, looked at the love triangle between Katniss, Peeta, and Gale and ran with it! And, don’t get me wrong, I love a good romance, but Collins showcases these romances in a specific way for a reason. It is supposed to feel forced on Katniss in a way she doesn’t have a way out of. Peeta and Gale both have good intentions and their own ways of loving Katniss and supporting her, but the point of the novel is that the capital only cares about the love story; and then the real media only cared about the love story. It felt ironic even at the time. And now, years later, you find themes and bits of The Hunger Games trilogy in many dystopian novels. No one remembers that Collins’ did it first. And while she twisted a sickening tale of power and loss, many authors use these tropes more loosely to appeal to today’s audiences. It wasn’t until the release of The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes that the true motive of these stories was pushed to the forefront. And even still, the actor playing Snow was mobbed by fans who cared more about his appearance than his character’s twisted morals and beliefs. Collins outlined the creation of a dictator and personalized him so that we could see the vanity, pride, and personal vendettas that shape those hungry for power. She crafted a selfish and paranoid personality out of a kind young man and we all read along.
The beautiful thing about Haymich in Sunrise on the Reaping is that he starts the story almost content; or at least unaware of the severity of the situation. He loves his family and has a girl he cares about more than anything in the world. They shared a real love; unlike how Peeta and Katniss’ relationship began. And even though his love, Lenore Dove, is a rebellious Covey with songs to pierce through the Capital’s armour, he finds himself satisfied as long as he gets to see her. That is, until the Reaping. Forced with a choice between standing up for Lenore Dove or saving himself a punishment, Haymich ultimately acts and is woefully underprepared for the storm he unleashes on himself. If President Snow is a reserved and spiteful boy in the previous book; he is a fully-fledged dictator with homicidal tendencies by the time of Haymich’s games. It almost felt like this version of Snow wanted some small rebellions that he could easily squash in a show of force. Everything about this story was a show of force. By the time Haymich was unlucky enough to wind up in the arena, the games weren’t just a bloodbath; they were a spectacle. These kids were forced to charm and sweet talk their own murderers just to drive home the point that Snow has complete power over them. It reminds me of the ways that oppressed peoples are often silenced, beaten down, and characterized as animals or inhuman so that justified rage looks like a snarling beast.
Sunrise on the Reaping was in no way superficial. Somehow, the characters we knew and loved were built upon to such depth that it changed the way I view all of her previous novels. Haymich Abernathy is the star of this story; unfortunately for him. In a Quarter Quell where double the amount of tributes, meaning children, are forced to compete in a fight to the death, Haymich is plucked from the crowd as if his life meant nothing. His life did mean nothing. Unable to even say goodbye to his family without posing for the camera first. I imagine myself in his shoes and I know I would pretend for the audience. I would sell my soul for five more minutes with my family if that was all I had. I wonder where my line would be drawn, though? Haymich chose a righteous, albeit shortsighted, path to try and stop the games. He wanted to survive and was driven by that need as much as he was driven by a desire to do something bigger than himself. However, the cruelty of the Capital shouldn’t be understated and Haymich missed the signs that he was in more trouble than he could ever expect. The damage he did to the arena and the disrespect shown towards the games in general kept him alive, only to meet a fate worse than death. To be made an example of. The fear of this type of reprisal could stop anyone from standing up to their oppressors. Even in the real world, punishment is used as a deterrent to crime; though our punishments at the moment are much less extreme than public hangings and whippings. It makes me wonder, in the uncertain political climate currently, why I fight for certain things and not others? If my life was on the line in the way it can be for others, would I be standing tall the way Haymich does?
And the worst part of these stories is always the acceptance. The bone-deep truth that these characters know they are going to die. My favorite character in this book was Beetee, surprisingly. A victor; yet he still fights the Capital’s regime. He ultimately pushed far enough to need to be crushed. But, of course, hurting Beetee outright would ruin the illusion of peace that was so carefully constructed in the Capital. Instead, his son was made a tribute and he was forced to watch what he knew were the last days of his son’s life. However, what stood out to me as I finished the story was that neither Beetee or his son ever implied that they didn’t think fighting back was the right thing to do. Regardless of the pain it caused them both, they planned for their deaths to mean more than just retribution for a decades old rebellion. It isn’t exactly a cheerful message, make sure your murderers are held accountable, but when you don’t have any other options, what do you do?
“I don’t think we submit” I say. “It’s implied. You accept the Capital’s conditions.” “Because we don’t want to end up dead!”
This story also did an incredible job showcasing the psyche of the oppressor. One of the most interesting characters I have read in a long time; Plutarch Heavensbee thinks of himself as a genuine friend to the people of the districts. He can clearly see the conditions that those in the districts live under. He isn’t deluded to the suffering they experience. And yet, he sees himself as somehow separate from the active oppression of the Capital because he is singularly hospitable to the tributes. In the original trilogy, Plutarch was a coin toss on what side he was really on. His intentions always seemed self-interested first and foremost. But, this book took the confounding mystique of his later years and turned back time to an up-and-coming Gamekeeper with an interest in more-so the transfer of power and the implicit submission of the people than the genuine atrocities that those people are facing. An ally, maybe? He does help Haymich understand a few aspects of his arena, but he could always be a double agent? I am still amazed at how clearly he can distinguish himself as a person of “importance”, somehow above those around him, and yet also feel that he is helping tear down the system that he actively benefits from. I always become a bit self-reflective after I read a good book and I have been questioning a lot lately what level of submission and oppression I am actively participating in. I, just like Plutarch, want to believe that I am doing everything in my power to dismantle oppressive systems, but am I willing to disrupt the status quo, that as a white woman born in America does benefit me in some ways, for an unknown future? A future where everyone is free to live, grow, and create without fear of discrimination or violence. How long and in what ways am I willing to fight for it?
“You were capable of imagining a different future. And maybe it won’t be realized today, maybe not in our lifetime. Maybe it will take generations. We’re all part of a continuum. Does that make it pointless?”
Haymich made a promise to his love that he would stop the sunrise on the Reaping and he lived through 25 more years of bloodshed before his chance came. He lost everyone he ever cared about and sent children to their deaths every single year. How did he go on? He went on because he believed that a world without systematic mistreatment was possible. A favorite proverb of mine is ‘we do not inherit the world from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children.’ Lenore Dove made Haymitch promise that he would see the end of Snow’s reign in his lifetime. Do you think he was as terrified as I am about what comes afterwards? It’s easy to tear things apart, but how do you rebuild in a world where people have been pit against one another for decades? I think it comes down to humility; we are all fighting our way out of the same darkness and we will always have more in common than we do apart. My mother always told me that the world isn’t willing to give things to you; you have to go out and take them. Our chance may be coming soon and I hope I have the courage to stand behind my ideals. And, if now isn’t the time, I want to make sure that the next generation can continue the fight.
