Who is a Songbird, and Who is a Snake?
When I was young, as soon as my mom turned off my bedroom lights, my nighttime endeavors began. I did a wide variety of things. I would soak handkerchiefs in ice water to put over my eyes to reduce the puffiness, rather than sleep, which would actually solve the problem. I would twist back my hair or even braid it elaborately in an effort to wake up with a head of curls. I would even test my physical prowess, with secret nighttime pushups and terrible attempts to learn the choreographies to Bollywood item songs. But among all those things, my only productive midnight activity was listening to audiobooks. I wasn’t quite clever enough to fashion a covert reading light, so I would slip on earbuds and fall asleep to whatever story I could get my hands on.
Among the many books I listened to was The Hunger Games series by Susanne Collins. Oh what I would give to hear or read those books again for the first time. The suspenseful danger, romantic tension, and unbelievably high stakes. When I pressed play, I felt like I was Katniss Everdeen, the protagonist, clutching a bow and teetering on the edge of death.
A decade later, once again, I sat curled up in a twin sized bed, my eyes racing through Susanne Collins’ words in a desperate, hurried effort to get to the ending. I recently read Collins’ most recent addition to The Hunger Games series, its prequel, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. I had lost touch with reading novels, especially for pleasure, rather than academic requirements, and I really forgot the rush of reading a good book. With each turn of the page, I was exhilarated. I had no idea what was coming next. I was captivated by the parallel to the original trilogy and out-right obsessed with the symbolism that was dripping in irony.
In case for some reason since 2008 you have been living under a freaking rock and haven't read The Hunger Games books, or even watched the brilliant film adaptations, I’ll offer some context. The Hunger Games takes place in a dystopian society of a country named Panem that exists in the aftermath of a devastating civil war. The reigning government has divided its citizens into the proletariat working class, separated into 12 districts, and the bourgeoisie upper class, who live in the Capitol. Panem’s authoritarian state enforces oppression onto the districts to prevent any lingering thoughts of rebellion and employ numerous methods of doing so, among excessive military presence, boerline slave wages, and intense physical punishments for even the smallest of crimes. However, these do not hold a flame to Panem’s main torture, the “Hunger Games”, a sadistic event where two kids from each district are randomly drawn and then sent to the Capitol to fight to the death for a grand spectacle. The novels center around protagonist Katniss Everdeen, who volunteers to take her sister’s place in the 74th hunger games and the consequences of her actions in the greater socio political arena of Panem.
Just because I want you, dear reader, to eventually read these books, if you haven’t already, I promise no spoilers. I’ll tell you about other things instead: how Collins beautifully executes a backstory for villain President Coriolanus Snow, tyrannical leader and dedicated perpetrator of the brutal games. How, amidst Katniss’ story of violence and pain, there lies an underlying critique of American politics with parallels to incomprehensible wealth disparities and a narrative that mirrors the hypocrisy ridden pro-life agenda. And finally, how The Hunger Games created a precedent for the dozens and hundreds of young adult novels that followed in its steps, defining the dystopian genre that characterized the juvenile literary world in the early twenty-first century.
In The Hunger Games prequel, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, author Suzanne Collins creates a masterful character arc for the villainous Coriolanus Snow. The novel provides a detailed exploration of Snow's background, motivations, and ultimately his transformation into the ruthless leader of the Capitol. Collins skillfully weaves together Snow's personal journey with the larger political and social issues of The Hunger Games’ world, resulting in a nuanced and thought-provoking portrayal of a complex character. One of the key strengths of Snow's character arc is the way in which Collins gradually reveals his motivations and beliefs.
Initially, Snow appears to be a sympathetic character, a young man trying to maintain his family's status and struggling to overcome the challenges of poverty and disadvantage. However, as he becomes more entrenched in the world of the Capitol and the Hunger Games, his true nature is revealed, and he emerges as a cold, calculating leader with a ruthless commitment to maintaining his own power. Despite Snow's despicable actions, Collins avoids portraying him as a one-dimensional villain. Instead, she provides a deep and complex exploration of his character that highlights the moral ambiguities of the world in which he lives. Snow's motivations are shaped by a combination of personal ambition, social pressures, and political expediency. Collins portrays him as a victim of a corrupt and oppressive system, while also recognizing the choices that he makes along the way that ultimately lead him to become a monstrous figure.
One of my favorite parts of the original series was its undeniable parallels to government systems in the real-world, especially in America, and how every step taken, and even any word uttered, had a greater political implication that defined the depth of Collins’ writing that was so strikingly unique, compare to other novels of her genre and time. She continues embedding real themes into her work and does an excellent job of integrating Snow's personal journey with the larger political and social issues of Panem. She explores the historical context of the Games, tracing their origins back to the post-war period and the creation of the Capitol. This historical context adds depth and complexity to Snow's character, highlighting the ways in which his actions are shaped by broader historical and social forces.
Finally, Collins executes Snow's background and character arc with great skill and attention to detail. She is a master of pacing, balancing the personal and political aspects of the story to create a gripping narrative that keeps the reader engaged throughout. Her prose is evocative and vivid, immersing the reader in the world of The Hunger Games and bringing Snow's character to life in almost vicarious detail.
To be honest, I’m still thinking about The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, even though I finished it weeks ago. I think what threw me in such a loop was the hope that Snow would emerge from the novel as even slightly less villainous, or even that I would have an inkling of what shaped his outlook and actions later in life. But, all the while, deep down I did know how he turned out. It is a natural, but futile hope, we all have that people are inherently good. I know a recurring concern among readers awaiting the prequel was the potential of humanizing Snow and giving him too much humility, in such a way that allowed excuses for his actions, or completely evaded the evil of his character. I was relieved that instead, we were given the riveting narrative of Snow's descent into darkness and his willingness to do whatever it took to maintain his position of power.
There was also such an interesting twist to the title, “The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes”. As the protagonists are initially introduced, it seems fitting that cunning Coriolanus Snow would be the snake and the charming singer, Lucy Gray Baird, would be the songbird. However, we quickly learn that it is actually Lucy that has an affinity towards and control over deadly snakes, and Coriolanus may not be as venomous as we thought. So then begs the nagging question, who really is the songbird, and who is the snake? With every turn of the page, more is revealed about Lucy that makes you question everything you originally thought about her character, and whatever you imagined may exist between her and Coriolanus, whether it be obsessive possession or true affection.
After finishing the novel, I went down a rabbit hole on the internet of Lucy Gray Baird, another compelling primary character, conspiracy theories on TikTok, reddit threads concerning messages obtained from reading between the lines, and articles that critiqued the novel in ways that never even occurred to me. I even asked ChatGPT to compile a list of artificially generated alternative endings. One particular subject that stood out to me was the nuanced and critical discussions about the upcoming big screen adaptation of the novel. I have had the release date, November 17th 2023, marked on my mental calendar since it was announced, even long before I read the book.
I am a longtime fan of Director Francis Lawrence, who took over directing the franchise after the first movie. There is definitely a shift in production that is visible from the first film that indicates creative changes enforced, that in my opinion only elevated the cinematic quality. However, he did announce that in this upcoming film, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, “this is very much a story about love,” which I’ll be honest, broke my heart a little. The romance is so important, I cannot deny, but I’m afraid all the other far more pressing layers of the novel may be overlooked or even forgotten in the film. The original trilogy falls victim to this same sentiment as the love triangle between protagonists Katniss, Peeta, and side character Gale is emphasized far more than originally intended by Sisanne Collins. This is almost definitely for viewing pleasure and cinematic purposes, I mean, who doesn’t love a gut-wrenching tale of first loves and heartbreaking angst? But I will admit it takes away from the central themes of the novels and the lessons Collins is trying to convey.
Before I conclude, I want to give an honorable mention to the revolutionary ways The Hunger Games was a defining book series in the dystopian genre for young adults. The trilogy became a global phenomenon, with millions of readers around the world captivated by its vivid depiction of a brutal and oppressive society. The series broke new ground in the dystopian genre by exploring themes of resistance, rebellion, and social justice in a way that was accessible and engaging to young readers. One of the key precedents Collins set was how she began to define the dystopian genre through its vivid world-building. Her post-apocalyptic society of Panem, with its distinctive class differences, laid the framework for fractured societies that are seen in similar works in this genre. that is divided into twelve districts and controlled by a wealthy and powerful Capitol. The vivid and brutal portrayal of this world drew readers in, and the detailed descriptions of the districts, the Capitol, and the Games themselves helped to make the world of Panem feel both believable and immersive.
In addition to its world-building, The Hunger Games also defined the dystopian genre through its exploration of themes of power, oppression, and resistance. The trilogy depicts a society in which the ruling class uses violence and propaganda to maintain its hold on power, while the poorer districts struggle to survive, which is something similar to what our world has seen before. She also depicts characters who resist this oppression, whether through acts of rebellion, defiance, or solidarity, that are inspiring and captivating. Young people, especially me at the ripe age in grade school when I read the novels, yearn for adventure and reading about strong characters we can relate to and connect with vicariously is a critical threshold in having a strong grasp of audience attention. The trilogy's depiction of a society in which power is unequally distributed and resistance is both necessary and dangerous resonated with readers, and helped to establish The Hunger Games as a defining work in the dystopian genre. The trilogy remains a seminal work within the genre, and its influence can still be seen in the many dystopian works that have followed in its wake.
God, all this talk about The Hunger Games is really drawing me back in. It’s really, dangerously, tempting me to forget all about midterms and just fall back into the clutches of Susanne Collins. So who knows? Maybe you will be able to find me again, in the dim light of my iPad e-reader, eagerly scrolling through all those glorious pages once again, asking myself who is really the songbird, and who is really the snake?
