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raw with love Nov 2015
(Yes, better than Harry Potter, get your pitchforks ready)

My first encounter with THG was approximately four years ago, when I had barely turned fourteen, did not consider myself bilingual and was romantically frustrated. Naturally, I made several mistakes at the time. First off, I read the series in translation, since I'm not a native English speaker, and missed out a huge chunk of the significance of the story. Then, as I said, I was romantically frustrated and thus paid such a monstrous amount of attention to the romance aspect of the story that I want to bitchslap myself. Finally, at fourteen, I was still ignorant and uneducated about so many things that I read the series, got hyped for perhaps six months or so, then forgot all about it, save for the occasional rewatch of the movies. In retrospect, this is probably one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made. Now, at the ripe old age of eighteen, a significantly better-read person, waaay more woke, as well as socially aware, I decided to finally read the series in the original and am finally able to put my thoughts together in a coherent, educated review of the series.

The Hunger Games has continuously been compared to a number of other books and series, occasionally put down as inferior and forgettable. In those past few years I managed to read a great part of the newly established young adult dystopian genre and am able to argue that A. The Hunger Games is undoubtedly universal and unrestricted to young adult audiences and that B. it is, without the slightest shade of uncertainty, the best series written in our generation.

While many people draw parallels between The Hunger Games and, say, Battle Royale, the similarities end with the first book, which, while spectacular in execution, seems unoriginal in its very idea. As the series unrolls, however, it is hardly possible to compare it to anything, save for, perhaps, Orwell's 1984. The social depiction and the severe criticism laid down in the very basis of the story are so brutally honest that it fails my understanding how the series was ever allowed to become this popular. What starts out as a story about a nightmarish post-Apocalyptic world works up to be revealed as a cleverly veiled portrayal of our own morally degraded and dilapidated society (if you're looking for proof, seek no further: as the series was turned into several blockbuster movies, public interest was primarily concerned with the supposed love triangle rather than the bitter truths concealed in the narrative). Class segregation, media manipulation, dysfunctional governments are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the realities that The Hunger Games so adroitly mimics. If I were to dissect, chapter by chapter, all three books, I'd probably find myself stiff with terror at the accuracy of the societal portrait drawn by Collins. I strongly advise those of you who haven't read the series between the lines to immediately do so because no matter how many attempts I make to point it out to you, you simply have to read the series with an alert sense of social justice to realize that it doesn't simply ring true, it shakes the ground with rock concert amplifiers true.

Other than the plot that unfolds into a civil war by the third book (the series deals so amazingly with trauma survival and with depicting the atrocities of war that I am still haunted by certain images), the characters of the story are what makes it all the more realistic. Though Hollywood has done a stunningly good job in masking the shocking reality of the fact that these are children - aged twelve through eighteen, innocent casualties paying for the adults' mistakes; children forced into prostitution, fake relationships, children forced into maneuvering through a world of corruption, media brain-washing and propaganda.

Consider Katniss. She is a person of color (olive-skinned, black-haired, gray -eyed, fight me if you will but she is not a white person), disabled (partially deaf, PTSD-sufferer, malnourished), falling somewhere in the gray spectrum both sexually and romantically. As far as representation goes, Katniss is one of the most diverse characters in literature, period. Consider Peeta, his prosthetic leg (which, together with Katniss's deafness, has been conveniently left out of the movies) and his mental trauma in the third book. Consider Annie's mental disability. Consider Beetie in his wheelchair. Consider all the people of color, as well as the fact that people in the Capitol seem to have neglected all sorts of gender stereotypes (e.g. all the men are wearing makeup). There is absolutely no doubt that the series is the most diverse piece of literature out there. Consider this: the typical roles are reversed and Peeta is the damsel in distress whereas Katniss does all the saving.

Furthermore, the alarming lack of religion (in a brutal society reliant on the slaughter of children God serves no purpose), as well as several other factors, such as the undisputed position of authority of President Snow, is suspiciously reminiscent of the already familiar model of a totalitarian society.

The Hunger Games, in other words, is revolutionary in its message, in its diversity, in the execution of its idea, in its universality. I mentioned Harry Potter in the subtitle. While this other series has played a vital role in the shaping of my character, it has gradually receded to the back line for several reasons, one of which is how problematic it actually is. This, though, is a problem for another day. (The Hunger Games is virtually unproblematic and while it may be argued that the LGBTQ society is underrepresented, a momentary counterargument is that *** has a role too insignificant in the general picture of the story to be necessary to be delved into this supposed problem). Where I was going with this is that, at the end of the day, Harry Potter, while largely enjoyed by adults and children alike, is a children's book and contains a moral code for children, it was devised to serve as a moral compass for the generation it was to bring up. The Hunger Games, on the other hand, requires you to already have a moral compass installed in order to understand its message. It is, as I already said, a straightforward critique of a dysfunctional society, aimed at those aware and intelligent enough to pick on it.

As for its aesthetic qualities, the series is written, ominously, in the present tense, tersely and concisely, yet at the same time in a particularly detailed and eloquent manner. It lacks the pretentious prose to which I am usually drawn, yet captivates precisely with the simplicity of its wording, which I believe is a deliberate choice, made so as to anchor the story to the mundane reality of the actual world that surrounds us.

That being said, I would like to sum up that The Hunger Games is, to my mind, perhaps the most successful portrayal of the world nowadays, a book series that should be read with an open mind and a keen sense of social awareness.
palladia Aug 2013
i'm living on a solitary prayer
vandalized my ego to make it rare
with teeth stained with lies i've told
and promises lost in the cold

i tussle and taser to hide my lovers
and all that i am - a mess or tastemaker
sprinkling tersely on my mercy seat
will make my season go complete?

i pull the labrys & the throttle
artefact-sprites in uranium soil
declaring my truth atop of the flagpole
i'm the custodian of haute culture

a flotilla of judgment riding skyhigh
like dido's love-lachrymose down demise
they say "better rethink your useless vendetta"
but first we'd better get out of their siberia

where the masses doubt the angry fix
"ignore the (g/h)aze above the pyramid
if we only couldn't have any more
locked in dominican ****** wards
This was inspired by all those nights I've watched the News and gone depressed over the human condition. So it's something like the world's dirge. I know the meter is off and the rhymes are cheesy, but it's heartfelt: all of it.
daisies Mar 2015
All this while
I was having a tough time
wrapping my mind
around your disappearance.

Life hit me in the face,
jolting me from my fast pace
that I usually strut in, careless
about everything else.

I have an aching feeling in my head,
and a sinking feeling in my heart.
My mouth has gone dry because of it.
Darling, you left me dead.

I am thinking there's something about you
that causes death to all your lovers after you're through,
but I know you never really outgrew
my love. Quite tersely, I put an end to it.

***** the rhymes now, you changed your apartment and number,
and my path has gone askew, and outnumbered.
Oh my love, I wonder helplessly what you're doing
as I sit here and bleed my thumbs out for you.

Laying on my bed, I can't help but reminisce
all our lovely fights, our intimate nights,
and the way you looked me in the eye
and patiently explained why you loved me still.

I cannot, will not regret you.
I cannot, will not forget you.
I cannot, will not forgive you.
And I cannot,* cannot *unlove you.
E Sep 2012
Two words
you paired and stretched to fit
between us
Bitter and beautiful on my tongue:
Más despacio.

More slow-space:
A translation in my mind,
distant and young and heavy
with so much smooth hair knotted-up
to tie off my twisted thoughts
from escaping.

If only my sheer, shiny verbosity
could challenge
all the air
of that slow-space
you so tersely placed
between
us.
samuel nathan Jan 2018
Here I sit upon this train
As if again inside a dream.
Same people, same smell, same unknown stain.
Everything as it was or so it would seem.

Outside a shattered cityscape flickers by,
A million metal mountains that hold us all.
They reach, as we reach, toward the sky;
And we, not them are more apt to fall.

Something cold takes hold of my brow,
Returning me tersely to the present.
I fell asleep against the window somehow.
A pillow or porcupine might’ve been more pleasant.

I guess I dozed off when I got on.
And now my wallet and phone are gone.
Ethan Waranch May 2011
Haikus are so great.
I can tersely say my thoughts.
For no one to read.


Do you even care.
No one will ever listen.
So i will shut up
Tersely "Ugly"
Not "Nari Keri"
Just "Ugly"
Unfinished
LACONICALLY "UGLY"
UGLY
Billo Sep 2014
I'm yours
and those words
force your face
into a stern look
replacing that which
took me into my amorous frame of mind
in the first place,

now tersely you ask yourself
you're mine?
in the worst way imaginable,
the beginning of decline.
Aditya Roy Jul 2019
Thence, to rise and to shine
Shining Shoes like the boy who dreams to shine guitars
With a box full of things, that I don't even know
What they were meant for, a semblance of freedom
Or some kind of splendid intertwining of these circumstances
My preceding circumstances could be less like my inhibitions
This is the house I always come back among old and missing things
Like a sold case for lost typewriter
These screenplays are written on borrowed time

I come in thy lassos of the sky
Really, is time an object and my preferences are lying about
I am pensive near the fire that I so desire
The attention I aspire for, and the friends I'm grateful for
I gratuitously ingratiating my missing pleasures
The road was taken, and some freed were less
Lost by the surrounding *******, I made haste
Landing upon a metaphorical desert
I was forced to look at ways to leave this road for dated people
Who reminded what it felt like to in the fast life
Theoretically and tersely, I make debate about things I understand
I have hopes and dreams
Being humble is one of them, but, I cannot think of any reasons
To be arrogant, but, you bring out the best in me
And make haste leaving me in my hate and agonizing feeling
I preeminent and imminently expectant of the recesses of sextants tanks that thing in this ziggy stardust
You were once a roll-roll star, you lived by your words
But, they reminded of how you never thought you were an artist
Until someone proves you wrong about your ideas
And exchanges them for incessant doubt
Like a man at sea looking at broad horizon
These are parallel perceptions of how you are brought about
In your life
And my life
You might be slovenly, and that makes you the title
Stolen by some man at sea
Instead, your heart was stolen by the man with the telescope
On a midnight cruise from a distant lighthouse
That signals through the cloudless climes and surrenders ships
Forbidden, like a sea of endless *****
Fulcrum Reaction And Loathing
Aditya Roy Sep 2019
Too much to say
Too much to stay for
To stay without it, within it
It is too much to talk about
So we talk about our heroes
And we marry the heroins
We fly like the herons on a rude bridge
Tersely overlooking the mountain moonlight
It could find the gust and lust of guys
It could push the lintel and swing with the massacre
Red and black be my very good din
Black and blue, and red dress be thy rich color
I mean I could be a reader, on your book pile
I live in a book, read it back and it would be steel wings
Ayesha Sep 29
Now there is a boy I think of
When I cannot sleep
But it does not do: there is
Crookedness
In every pepper that plays me
There is crookedness
In every lovely word. There is
No eye that spares me
The ******. There is
*** in the walls. The winds moan.
They ruffle my shirt just to see
They pick the sparse parts and
Spread spread spread they
Deprive no one of me. I am haunted
By my oak wood, my twigs
My sugar that races from me to fruit
And bursts atop the open palm.
There is no God but that
In the pinpricks of my skin
No word that does not steal me
And dies a meagre scent in ear
There is no book. I pray to the
Well-taught wells of nothing
And I am given everything
I pray in a sound I cannot own
I am heard, forgiven, etc.
Now the boy becomes a man
And I become a woman and
The night passes passes but
There is no hand that can hold me
And spare me the hold. I am tired
Of picking at the doubts on my skin
They yield, bleed, and do not cease
To become me. Me me, I am
Tired
Of confidentiality. Superstitious
Consciousness, I cannot bear, tonight,
All these dead fathers

Moving their hands to grab me
From within. I am not much
But a vessel
For his sheer body to pour through
And pass and ruffle itself neat
There is no language
Small enough for me: no word
That does not leak. No - no
Plentitude that could unmake God,
And fix me this pursed solitude.
Though, he... this...
Make-believe, beautiful and noise
Weaves me tersely into skin
And says forget forget, it
Does not do,
though

His looming lure is huge as a kiss
His hands are coarse company
Asphyxia feels again
Like homecoming
27. 09. 2024
you wish the worst for me
manipulate tersely
articulate in your efforts
to cut down and subvert me

but do i look phased
you wanna be distracting
bet you thought you could make me bite
gamed on me over reacting

but you're words are empty
too soft to penetrate
as ugly are they are
i can ignore them and be okay
Aditya Roy Feb 2020
We went under the moonlight
Life as you remember when there was no gloom
Was where I found it under the bridge
Love was a moonlit evening where we garnered attention
They don't have them on any of those Scandinavian countries
Looks like we were lucky to have other swinging lovers

Banished from watching Arabian Nights
On a lonesome desert stretch where the meandering highway met
The horizon and that crescent moon looked splendid
Tersely, lay spread like a hammock

— The End —