Mockingjay

Several weeks ago, when I finished Catching Fire, I pre-ordered this book from Amazon. Last week I decided I was mature and cool-headed enough to wait till the library copy was available, canceled my order, and put my name on the hold list.

Then a few days ago, in Walmart (that goldmine of cultural riches), there it was on the shelf. I withstood the temptation for 24 hours. Then… I snagged it.

In some ways, this final installment of the trilogy that began with The Hunger Games was every bit as good as its predecessors. Suspenseful. Lean. Moving. It engages the deep issues: war, greed, the craving for power, the banality and dependence of a media-crazed society. Katniss Everdeen is back and as gutsy and scornful of celebrity as ever.

Some of our questions get answered: will Peeta survive? And if so, will Katniss end up with Peeta or Gale? Will President Snow be defeated? Will a “new world order” be set up in Panem? What will become of the characters we’ve come to care about?

But I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t admit to my disappointment. The book rolls along addictively until the final pages, where the “resolution” seems to fall flat. Most of it takes place off-stage, so to speak. And ultimately there is no vision of the good that doesn’t come off looking a bit pallid and numb. Evil ravages, but goodness merely hides. Or so it seemed to me.

One of the most provocative aspects of the story for me was the way it kept inviting me to consider the question all three books have raised: who is the enemy? I reached the last page with the feeling that to Katniss, it has remained elusive. Mockingjay raises important questions and dishes up plenty of thrills. But it doesn’t offer much hope.