The sun rises once more on ‘The Hunger Games’ in a prequel starring beloved character Haymitch Abernathy
BY JULIE HUANG – arts@theaggie.org
Suzanne Collins’ series “The Hunger Games” is well known for exploring difficult questions about human nature and the structure of society, while at the same time being full of exciting young-adult entertainment. Its latest addition, “Sunrise on the Reaping,” follows that tradition in smooth fashion.
What can be described as a prequel following fan favorite Haymitch Abernathy’s journey through the 50th Hunger Games is also a novel that is inextricably concerned with the role of propaganda in shaping human experience and perception. Where can truth be found in circumstances where even the most genuine actions can be twisted by the perverse motives of others?
Before diving into the narrative, Collins prepares her readers for that question with four epigraphs by George Orwell, William Blake and David Hume, discussing the relationship between truth, propaganda and what human beings choose to believe in.
The novel then begins with a depiction of Haymitch’s early life in District 12, introducing his mother, little brother and beloved girlfriend Lenore Dove in a way that just screams “something bad is going to happen” before it actually does.
Foreshadowing runs rampant throughout the entire novel, but it strikes an emotional nerve in this early section as Collins writes a protagonist characterized as a hardworking optimist, driven by love for his close ones, in ominous contrast to the solitary and jaded alcoholic that Haymitch becomes in “The Hunger Games” proper.
Once young Haymitch is selected to participate in the 50th Games, “Sunrise” begins to recontextualize everything that was seemingly well-established in the original series and never once misses an opportunity to make readers question everything they thought they knew. The very moment Haymitch is chosen constitutes one such fissure between truth and untruth, and from there, the discrepancy between the events that happen on the prequel’s pages and what was divulged in earlier novels only grows wider.
The plot unravels with these consecutive events building on top of each other, driven by characters who were portrayed one way in the original series yet are cast in a new light by their roles in this book. For one, the role and motivations of Haymitch himself as a tribute in the games are revealed to be vastly different from what was assumed by “The Hunger Games” protagonist Katniss Everdeen and real-world readers alongside her. Their father-daughter, mentor-mentee relationship is thrown into a new light as well, as the word “sweetheart” takes on a poignant meaning.
Aside from the reveal of other heartbreaking personal connections that Haymitch and Katniss share, “Sunrise” also features the early seeds of the nationwide revolution for which Katniss would eventually become the “Mockingjay” figurehead. Collins’ reveal of just how long plans for revolution against Panem’s tyrannical government under President Coriolanus Snow have been brewing. This sentiment alone serves as pointed commentary that real systemic change requires a lifetime of faith and effort in the face of repeated failures, never knowing when victory might finally arrive. So, too, are these efforts unseen and unnoticed by the majority of people who never knew they existed, yet they are necessary in order to work toward serendipitous circumstances where positive change may actually take place.
Collins’ commentary on the necessity of each generation planting seeds of hope is nowhere more clear than in the character of Lucy Gray Baird, introduced as Snow’s tribute in the first prequel and never once directly mentioned by name in this second prequel. Still, she haunts the narrative and the characters within it: first, in the defiant love of freedom exhibited by Haymitch’s tragic relationship with Lenore — who is a descendant of Lucy Gray’s family, formerly traveling musicians known as the Covey — and later in bitter words spoken by a late-middle-aged Snow on the fickleness of Covey women.
Despite their opposite ideological stances, Lucy Gray’s free will and spirit left an impression on both Lenore and Snow. Their impressions are in turn transferred to Haymitch through their interactions with him, despite him not knowing the woman that they originally knew.
The relationships between characters and the information they share, or omit from each other, could be construed as Collins engaging in fan service — inclusions made simply to please the audience and long-time fans of the series. However, these interactions also feed into the novel’s central theme of how truths and lies are passed from person to person and how the constructed narratives that become propaganda take advantage of the constraints surrounding the communication of information.
“Sunrise on the Reaping” demonstrates over and over how artifice can be injected in even the most genuine of gestures and how well-intended actions can be repackaged to fit narratives that completely oppose one’s intentions, depending on what information has been relayed and what has been discarded.
Yet this story also propounds the idea that, like Haymitch and Lucy Gray, every person is connected through the past and future to others that they may never learn the names of. Even as some information has been lost or omitted, those people have played a part in shaping the world, unseen but not unimportant.
Despite its slew of harsh realities, “Sunrise on the Reaping” is a reminder that the people one has loved leave their influence on their surroundings long after they are physically gone, and those influences leave room for future growth. It is a reminder that the genuine connections forged with others in meaningful moments will always hold some truth, even if those truths might someday become invisible in their namelessness.
Written by: Julie Huang — arts@theaggie.org
