I read “Hunger Games” and also watched the movie. Given the lock-step similarity between the book and the first movie, I decided movies were sufficient to get the rest of the story. I also watched “Divergent”, but haven’t read that book.
I thoroughly enjoyed both stories, but there is something irritatingly out of kilter about Hunger Games which does not seem to be true of Divergent. They both have a really weird caricature of society. Panem tries to be like the real world, divided up into “districts” where real people live. Chicago is divided into these weird metaphysical groups based on positive personality traits. I kind of like Chicago. It is so out there that I can suspend disbelief and enjoy the fairy tale.
Panem, unfortunately, falls into the “uncanny valley”. It’s close enough to reality that I have higher expectations of it. It does not rise to those expectations. Why is there so much open country, filled with untamed wildlife to be eaten, yet everyone is hungry? Why does a Capitol with such incredibly advanced technology feel the need to oppress other people for resources?
Coal power? Really? First of all, I don’t believe there will be coal left in any kind of post-apocalyptic future. But that aside, there are other ways to get energy that would be much more reliable, and therefore a better investment of the Capitol’s efforts. (Hydro, which shows up in the third movie, is a good example.)
The first book implied that the Capitol has the technology to construct artificial organisms. With such technology, you don’t need other people–for anything. At worst they would be a nuisance that you ignore.
I suppose Collin’s thought she was making a statement about the United State’s relationship with oil-producing nations, while setting it in a Roman Empire-esque world. Neither comparison holds well. In the Roman Empire (and for most of human history) there has been no appreciable difference in technology between the very elite and the very bottom of the oppressed. In fact, that was why there was oppression. Without technology, they had to take it out of fellow human beings.
Basically, we’re left with a very mean and oppressive Capital with no real motivation. President Snow is paper thin. His job is to be bad. Full stop. If there is a way to be mean and bad, Snow will do it, but why? Even Hitler had a reason to expand his country. (BTW, “lebensraum” had a lot to do with resources. Hmm… )
This points to an interesting characteristic of young adult (YA) fiction in general. Written from the point of view of a young person, society does not make sense. There is a feeling that the System is sinister, trying to ruin your life, but has little motivation beyond that. And of course there’s the journey of self-discovery, that you’re an extraordinary person with special gifts who will make a huge difference in the world. Which is of course why the System singles you out for particular oppression.
It’s all absurd, but the story resonates very well. Reality is that we’re all pretty much ordinary, and the System is something that emerges from collective human nature. Perhaps the real fear of the young adult is that she will be absorbed into this thing and lose her individuality. That’s a good fear to have.
In SuSAn, I play with the concept of the Fourth Order. It is precisely collective human nature, and it always leads civilization to self-destruct. Sadly, I can’t turn that into the overarching terror of President Snow. Every character has normal human motivations, both good and bad. The world ends with a whimper, not a bang. The story of Susan is how our unraveling civilization affects her personal life as the world’s first sentient machine.