Book hype always makes me nervous, especially if I’m behind the times on something epically popular. How could anything possibly live up to months of build-up — months of gushing reviews, enticing excerpts, speculation-laden movie deals? How could a late-to-the-party reader be anything but disappointed?
If anything in the literary world has ever known hype, it is Suzanne Collins’s THE HUNGER GAMES series. Everything I’d read or heard about the trilogy suggested it was more addictive than peanut butter M&Ms. Reviewers used descriptors like “jarring,” “violent,” and “pulse-pounding.” YA bloggers agonized over release dates. Authors like Megan Whalen Turner, John Green, and Stephen King oohed and ahhed. Booksellers reported swarms of demographic-defying Collins fans.
So what took me so long? I adore dystopian. I’m all about kickass female characters. I’m even, trite as it’s recently become, a complete sucker for a good love triangle.
But I’m also wary of hype, which as it turns out can create a vicious little cycle. The longer I put off plunging into the series, the more spectacular things I heard about it. The more spectacular things I heard about it, the more I worried it would be a let-down. The more I worried it would be a let-down…you get the idea.
A few days ago, I finished Ally Condie’s magnificent MATCHED and found myself craving more dystopian. “Get over it,” I told myself. “Enough is enough.” So, at long last, I picked up THE HUNGER GAMES.
Within minutes, I was apologizing out loud to an inanimate object for ever having doubted it.
Within hours, I was racing through the final pages of Book 1 and then racing to my favorite local bookstore to snag 2 and 3. But egads! CATCHING FIRE’s spot on the shelf was woefully bare. Clutching MOCKINGJAY to my chest, I returned home to endure 24 hours of literary waiting, the likes of which I hadn’t experienced since the countdown to HP 7. Finally, blessedly, the bookstore called with those magic words —
“We’re holding your book for you at the front desk.”