Characters: B-
Writing: C+
Plot: B-
Pacing: B-
Poignancy: B
I don't really understand how Collins does it, but Catching Fire (aka book 2 of The Hunger Games trilogy) continues a series that is somehow, simultaneously, one of the catchiest yet sloppiest series I've ever read. Random internet visitors who accidentally stumble upon my site while deciding how to spend their government bailout dollars by purchasing a large boat, multiple crates of red wine, and copies of their favorite YA action-adventure series will no-doubt jump down my throat in the comments section for this slight. So don't get me wrong: I'm still plowing through the series like a fat man going down a flume-ride poured with gravy. And I'm definitely still enjoying the ride. These are some catchy books, but Catching Fire begins to form noticeable cracks that irritate the critic in me. The Hunger Games showed signs of those same flaws, but its relentless pacing and well-written action bullied them to the side. Here, facing middle-book-of-the-series syndrome, only a sense of momentum really keeps the novel from falling apart.
Sadly, most of the book's flaws are fairly obvious. Collin's strength is as a plot-architect, not as a writer, but she undermines herself as both here. A good chunk of the story, particularly in the first quarter of the book, is basically told in expository chunks of summary. As a first person narrative, obviously a lot of the tale will be internal musings by Katniss, its main character. But when you're writing around a fast-paced, action-packed plot, its a really bad idea to have half the action happen not only off-screen, but in the past. Katniss spends an awful lot of Catching Fire summarizing what happened in the first book, then explaining events going on in the present that she's just not around for. Other great books have violated that fundamental show-don't-tell principal — specifically, I'm thinking Lord of the Rings, which had a lot of off-screen action summarized neatly for the audience, but only because the world was so big and dense and rich. Everything about the Hunger Games trilogy, on the other hand, already seems sparse. We're never directly shown enough of the world in the first place to make those off-screen events truly resonate. And with Collins forced to move away from the simple brutality of the Games, into the complex political tensions of the Capitol and its districts, I remembered why the running background tensions of longer series like Harry Potter led to a real sense of urgency and in-world reality — because we had time to get attached, to care about places we'd already been to. The tension of the Hunger Games world — the struggle of some peasants against their tyrannical government — rushes through standardized emotions and developments that work mostly because they're so familiar. There's not much to feel here, just a lot to experience.
And fine, Catching Fire doesn't need to be an exquisitely detailed book. I think 90 percent of its charm is its rapid pace, its thin-ness, and a more structured narrative would work against its lightning plot. But the plot of Catching Fire should have been stronger, that's all. When all the summarizing and plot-setup are finally out of the way, freeing the story up to move forward, what does Collins do? Give us a second-half twist that turns Catching Fire into a rehash of The Hunger Games. It does move the plot along, but as fun as it is, the change of pace basically destroys any tension, like there's even less at stake than the first time around just because everything is so rushed. Once again, few side characters are given a chance to develop. And while Katniss herself becomes a more interesting heroine than I expected, the people she bases most of her emotions and actions around never have the chance to demonstrate why. One of Katniss' main motivations in the book is, at least as she explains, saving her younger sister from any more pain. But that sister is only in the book for a few pages — and not many more in the first installment — making her something of an emotional human MacGuffin. Same with Gale, one of the two boys competing for the affections of Katniss. (Rather inexplicably, considering she's a selfish asshole most of the time, but that level of unlikeability is actually one of the most surprising, interesting things about the series.) Gale is never developed, or even really described, as anything more than a handsome, surly teenager, yet this blank slate of teenage hormones drives half the things that happen in the book.
For all its shortcomings, Catching Fire is still an entertaining book. And The Hunger Games trilogy is still a series I would recommend that anyone check out. I should probably be about 14 years younger than I am to fully enjoy it, but I do think it's better — and darker, and more daring — than most of what I likely read at that age. I don't think it will go down as one of the classics. Not unless the movies are gangbuster, anyway.
And fine, Catching Fire doesn't need to be an exquisitely detailed book. I think 90 percent of its charm is its rapid pace, its thin-ness, and a more structured narrative would work against its lightning plot. But the plot of Catching Fire should have been stronger, that's all. When all the summarizing and plot-setup are finally out of the way, freeing the story up to move forward, what does Collins do? Give us a second-half twist that turns Catching Fire into a rehash of The Hunger Games. It does move the plot along, but as fun as it is, the change of pace basically destroys any tension, like there's even less at stake than the first time around just because everything is so rushed. Once again, few side characters are given a chance to develop. And while Katniss herself becomes a more interesting heroine than I expected, the people she bases most of her emotions and actions around never have the chance to demonstrate why. One of Katniss' main motivations in the book is, at least as she explains, saving her younger sister from any more pain. But that sister is only in the book for a few pages — and not many more in the first installment — making her something of an emotional human MacGuffin. Same with Gale, one of the two boys competing for the affections of Katniss. (Rather inexplicably, considering she's a selfish asshole most of the time, but that level of unlikeability is actually one of the most surprising, interesting things about the series.) Gale is never developed, or even really described, as anything more than a handsome, surly teenager, yet this blank slate of teenage hormones drives half the things that happen in the book.
For all its shortcomings, Catching Fire is still an entertaining book. And The Hunger Games trilogy is still a series I would recommend that anyone check out. I should probably be about 14 years younger than I am to fully enjoy it, but I do think it's better — and darker, and more daring — than most of what I likely read at that age. I don't think it will go down as one of the classics. Not unless the movies are gangbuster, anyway.
I absolutely love the series, but I agree that the quality of writing isn't top notch. When you get to the third book, you will be extremely sick of how repetitive Katniss's thoughts are. The phrase "the boy with the bread" is thrown in so often that it is almost cringe-worthy. But, I think the real strength lies in the speed at which you want to read it, so you overlook the sloppier points.
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