I like to imagine what the world would look like after chaos and disaster. When things aren’t all mid-catastrophe, but they can’t be what they were before. This book? Possibly one of my favorite apocalyptic visions of America ever. Which is saying a lot. Because (clearly) I love me a good apocalypse.

The Hunger Games has humor and characters I’d want to befriend and a believable, stark, bleakness. And language like such:

"To the everlasting credit of the people of District 12, not one person claps. Not even the ones holding betting slips, the ones who are usually beyond caring. Possibly because they know me from the Hob, or knew my father, or have encountered Prim, who no one can help loving. So instead of acknowledging applause, I stand there unmoving while they take part in the boldest form of dissent they can manage. Silence. Which says we do not agree. We do not condone. All of this is wrong." 

Man. Good books are fun.