Announcing a New Book on All Things “Ballad!”

Posted on April 14, 2024 by

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I’m thrilled to announce my second book interpreting the Hunger Games saga, this one focused especially on the “Ballad” film and its connections to the prequel and original series! Titled Behind the Ballads: A Tribute to the People, Places, and Music of Songbirds and Snakes, this book takes readers on a tour of the numerous layers of meaning and backstories that underlie both the film and prequel. Now available on Amazon (with a sample) and numerous global retailers. Thank you for your consideration, and enjoy the show!

From the Back Cover: The 2023 premier of Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes introduced global audiences to the songster Lucy Gray Baird and her breathtaking performances. Based on Suzanne Collins’ prequel, the dystopian saga’s fifth film merges two unlikely worlds—namely Appalachia’s distinctive musical traditions with Germany’s postwar reconstruction era. These worlds collide in the Capitol’s Tenth Hunger Games and the dubious relationship between Lucy Gray and villain-to-be, Coriolanus Snow. This book explores the film as a period piece, including real-world geography, history, and meanings behind Appalachia’s District 12 and an emerging fascist Panem. We further delve into the principal filming locations, music production, casting decisions, character philosophies, comparisons with the novel, and of course the intricate backstories to those unforgettable ballads.  

Year of Ballad! A Guide to Media Articles and News

Posted on March 8, 2023 by

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Production, Filming, and Casting for Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (Release Date: Nov. 17, 2023)

The following select collection of online sources provides a go-to place for “all things Ballad,” including production, filming locations, casting, and related information from a variety of news, media, and fan sites. This collection was screened and recommended by students within our First-Year Seminar Class, titled Unpacking the Hunger Games at Butler University, Indianapolis. We hope you find these sources enlightening about the highly anticipated feature film! (More will be added as available.)

Official Trailers and Reveals

Overviews and Collections

ON SET: Filming Locations and Images

News Releases and Articles

(Most recent at the top)

Film Analysis and Speculation

Recent Published Books Interpreting The Ballad:

A Place Called District 12: Appalachian Geography and Music in the Hunger Games (by Thomas Paradis, McFarland & Co., 2022)

Songbirds, Snakes & Sacrifice: Collins’ Prequel References and Philosophies Explained (by Valerie E. Frankel, LitCrit Press, 2020)

Announcing a New Book on the Hunger Games Saga (Including the Prequel)

Posted on September 17, 2021 by

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A Place Called District 12: Appalachian Geography and Music in the Hunger Games, by Thomas Paradis

Now Available in print, eBook on Amazon and many global retailers

For highlights and background, please see an Interview with author Tom Paradis about his new book, A Place Called District 12. Provided by Religious Studies Professor, James McGrath, Butler University (June 2022)

Overview of the Book (Click image or title above for McFarland Release Announcement)

In creating her post-apocalyptic world of the Hunger Games, author Suzanne Collins pulls from a wide array of real-world history and geography lurking just beneath her captivating story line. Now within her recent prequel, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, Collins pulls us ever deeper into Appalachia’s extraordinary cultural diversity and its storied musical traditions. Here geographer Thomas W. Paradis invites you on his own tour of human geography, history, and culture that collectively provide the foundation for the saga’s novels and films.

Written for fans, educators, and students of any age, A Place Called District 12 provides insightful background on scenes from the novels and films from the original series and recent prequel. Some highlights include the following topics:

  • A geographical revision of District 12’s location within the Appalachian Mountains.
  • Historical geography, architecture, and urban design of District 12, the Capitol, the Corso, the president’s mansion, the Victors Village, and the Cornucopias, including segments about major filming locations. 
  • The historical development of Appalachian balladry, mountain string bands, early country music, and bluegrass, all of which are represented throughout the saga and District 12’s own bluegrass band, the Covey.
  • Interpretations and meanings behind numerous key songs within the saga, including the “Valley Song,” “The Hanging Tree,” and “Keep on the Sunny Side”.
  • The social history and working conditions of coal-mining communities on which Katniss’ home town is largely inspired.
  • Katniss’ attachment to home, and how her personal identity is shaped by her multiple definitions of the home place.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Preface

Introduction

PART 1: Setting the Geographic Stage

  1. District 12 of Central Appalachia
  2. Places and Spaces of District 12
  3. Katniss at Home
  4. An Appalachian Melting Pot
  5. Small Town in Panem
  6. Portraying the Seam
  7. Designing a Capital City
  8. Panem as World System

PART 2: The Music of District 12

  1. The Ballads of Appalachia
  2.  Mountain String Bands
  3.  District 12 Goes Country
  4.  Bluegrass and the Covey
  5.  Building the Bluegrass Sound
  6.  A National Audience
  7.  Maude Ivory the Songbird

Chapter Notes

Bibliography

Index

How are Haymitch and Katniss Alike? Exploring a Trilogy Subplot that Carries Over to Sunrise: Part 1

Posted on January 24, 2026 by

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(Author’s Note: Due to length, Part 1 below focuses on the trilogy, while Part 2 will focus on Sunrise on the Reaping.)

Though not exactly a “hot topic,” the rocky relationship between Haymitch and Katniss serves as an intriguing subplot within the original trilogy. According to authors at Reedsy and Storybilder, to name just a few, a subplot is a secondary storyline that runs parallel to or beneath the main plot, designed to enrich the main narrative. Subplots “can be as simple as a professional rivalry or as complex as a political conspiracy” (Reedsy). They allow writers to feature or explore additional themes of the novel, which might involve greater character development, relationship growth among two or more characters, or provide a more nuanced understanding of worldbuilding that supports the main plot. The growth of mutual respect and friendship that builds between Haymitch and Katniss appears to accomplish all of these things quite well. What might be less apparent is how Collins continues to unveil parallels between these two victors within her second prequel. For now, let’s return to the trilogy to recall some highlights of their contentious yet growing relationship.

Although they butt heads and trade insults from the beginning, Haymitch and Katniss gradually learn to trust and respect one another. Collins deftly weaves their lives together for character development and to compare their parallel experiences. Early in the first novel, of course, they don’t get off “on the right foot,” so to speak, viewing each other with probably some combination of distrust, contempt, and a lot of mutual misunderstanding. Katniss provides her first impression of him in Chapter 4, telling us, “I don’t know Haymitch, but I’ve seen him often enough in the Hob, tossing handfuls of money on the counter of the woman who sells white liquor. He’ll be incoherent by the time we reach the Capitol.” She seems to view him with contempt and condescension throughout the first chapters, especially for his uncontrolled drinking. Much like us at this point, she does not yet understand his traumatic past. For his part, Haymitch’s first impression of Katniss is of someone who is dislikable, arrogant, stubborn, and immature (Check, check, check, and check, she might admit). Still, he eventually comes to view her as worthy of mentoring, telling her, “All right, I’ll make a deal with you. You don’t interfere with my drinking, and I’ll stay sober enough to help you… But you have to do exactly what I say.” At this point they at least start to give each other a chance.

It is Peeta who further jolts her perception of Haymitch, though much later during the famous cave scene. “I always knew you were his favorite,” says Peeta, to which she responds, “Please, he can’t stand being in the same room with me.” (HG 259) He mutters back, “Because you’re just alike.” She decides to ignore his comment because it’s not a decent time to insult Haymitch. By this time, however, Katniss has developed a more trusting relationship with him and admits to even imagining his thoughts. When she tries to kiss Peeta, a parachute arrives with a pot of broth. She realizes, “Haymitch couldn’t be sending me a clearer message. One kiss equals one pot of broth. I can almost hear him snarl. ‘You’re supposed to be in love, sweetheart. The boy’s dying. Give me something I can work with!'” (HG 261)

This is probably one of the more endearing aspects of their growing bond, doubling as an intriguing strategy during the Games. Haymitch has been silently communicating with Katniss based on what he sends — or does not send — into the arena. She eventually connects the dots with the following revelation:

“It’s funny. Haymitch and I don’t get along well in person, but maybe Peeta is right about us being alike because he seems able to communicate with me by the timing of his gifts… He hasn’t made much effort to connect with Peeta really. Perhaps he thinks a bowl of broth would just be a bowl of broth to Peeta, whereas I’ll see the strings attached to it.” (HG 305)

By this time, their relationship has at least evolved into one of mutual trust and understanding. They are coming to know and respect one another as a collaborative team, even if neither of them is particularly warm or likable. By the time of the 75th Games in Catching Fire, Katniss even recognizes Haymitch as family. This word sneaks out of her mouth while trying to rationalize visiting him after the Quell announcement. She tells us,

I bite my lip because once he’s said it, I’m afraid that’s what I do want. For Peeta to live, even if it means Haymitch’s death. No, I don’t. He’s dreadful, of course, but Haymitch is my family now (emphasis added). What did I come for? I think. What could I possibly want here? “I came for a drink,” I say. (CF 177)

Soon thereafter, Katniss and Peeta secretly view the heavily edited 50th Games, not yet realizing how much of the truthful footage had been removed. Regardless, she gains confidence after learning more about Haymitch’s own experiences, saying, “I think I finally know who Haymitch is. And I’m beginning to know who I am. And surely, two people who have caused the Capitol so much trouble can think of a way to get Peeta home alive.” (CF 203) Not only is she better understanding Haymitch’s personality and troubled past, but she is also continuing to discover her own identity and sense of self. In one sense, Haymitch is unwittingly assisting with that journey by holding up a mirror to her face.

By the wrap-up of Mockingjay, both Katniss and Haymitch have at least admitted to themselves how they view each other as some sort of family. Perhaps they still remain too stubborn and guarded to admit as much. But Collins ultimately ends the trilogy with both of them back in 12 looking out for one another. As readers, we can see between the lines of what is left unsaid between them. On the hovercraft headed back to 12, she pointedly asks him why he is going back as well. He makes an excuse that “they can’t seem to find a place” for him in the Capitol. After some thought, she realizes he could go anywhere he wanted because he hasn’t assassinated anyone — unlike someone else we know. Forming her own conclusion, she thinks, “If he’s coming back to 12, it’s because he’s been ordered to.” She asks him bluntly, “You have to look after me, don’t you? As my mentor?” He simply shrugs in response, and Katniss realizes what he means: “My mother’s not coming back.”

Without denying it, Haymitch is thus assuming the role of a guardian or perhaps a close uncle figure. In the final few paragraphs of the Epilogue, Katniss clearly views the three of them as a family unit, saying, “We learn to keep busy again. Peeta bakes. I hunt. Haymitch drinks until the liquor runs out, and then raises geese until the next train arrives.” Just before this, she describes the memorial book they begin to assemble, thanks to some fresh parchment paper sent by Dr. Aurelius from the Capitol. She says nonchalantly, “Haymitch finally joins us, contributing twenty-three years of tributes he was forced to mentor.”

Of course, these otherwise mundane, forgettable comments now hold valuable new meaning with Sunrise on the Reaping. (Spoiler Alert!) In the prequel’s Epilogue, Haymitch reflects on how his beloved Lenore Dove has in some way grown older with him, as if she is still alive. But she tells him that he cannot join her yet because, as Haymitch tells us, “I have to look after my family.” (SOR 381) In this way Collins confirms that Haymitch likewise perceives a familial relationship with Katniss and Peeta sometime after Mockingjay. This is likely the principal reason he has returned to 12 after the revolution. Perhaps he was ordered to do so at first, as Katniss surmised. Still, his own internal reasoning was probably more emotional. He felt a sense of evolved kinship than he would not care to admit out in the open. He now had someone to care for, and to care about, once again. Through some inner voice, Lenore Dove supported and encouraged the idea to give him a valuable reason to keep on living. He admits, “I did not want to let them in, her and Peeta, but the walls of a person’s heart are not impregnable…” (SOR 381) And just as Katniss had spied Haymitch at the Hob, Haymitch reveals how he had watched his friend Burdock with his young daughter there as well.

Collins further aligns the two Epilogues even more closely, elaborating upon what Katniss tells us in Mockingjay. He does indeed raise Geese, which Collins admits in her exclusive interview for the Barnes & Noble edition that her mention of geese in Mockingjay was “not random.” She had planned in some way, at least, to return to Haymitch’s story in the future if possible. This is big news in itself, one of numerous admissions that she was long ago considering potential prequels and their characters. Now with Sunrise, Haymitch explains the former “geese” reference, as Katniss and Peeta assist with his newfound hobby. Katniss provides eggs from the forest, and Peeta assembles an incubator. Haymitch further confirms that he only dries out when the train is late, spending his time leading his geese around the Meadow as Lenore Dove once did. In these and other ways, Collins masterfully has her two epilogues essentially speaking to one another, reinforcing the post-Mockingjay storyline.

(COMING SOON: Part 2 of this discussion, focused on how Collins develops the similarities between Haymitch and Katniss within her prequel.)

Featured Image Source: Screenrant, custom artwork by Yeider Chacon

How the Sunrise Film Might (or Should) Tell Haymitch’s Story

Posted on January 23, 2026 by

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With the fandom all abuzz about the likely return of Jennifer Lawrence, Josh Hutcherson, and Woody Harrelson for cameo appearances in Sunrise, why should we necessarily need to wait until the story’s conclusion to enjoy this treat? Although not aligned directly with the novel, there seems to be an opportunity for the goose to lay a golden egg here (pun intended). Why not begin the film with the three of them in post-Mockingjay District 12, then returning later to conclude the story? Let’s look at the logic here and why it would be a win-win situation for the fans and the franchise.

As readers know well, Haymitch admits in the Epilogue how he could no longer remain silent about his own past. He finally begins to contribute to the memorial book Katniss had described in Mockingjay. “I finally told our story,” he tells us. As one reader, I had the sudden revelation that the entire SOTR prequel effectively served as his story for Katniss and Peeta! The novel constitutes his own personal journey back in time, essentially reliving his experiences. One could easily envision — should the Lionsgate folks somehow agree — opening the film with current-day (post-Mockingjay) Haymitch in District 12 preparing to tell his story. Then he flashes back to the 50th Games and the prequel’s related adventures as he tells the story for the memorial book.

This is not an uncommon approach for screenwriting, known in filmmaking circles as the storyteller device. According to Dave Trottier of Script, this device is one of five common flashback situations utilized for feature films. Basically the principal narrator, or storyteller, introduces and concludes the story, sandwiching the featured plot itself. Trottier cites Saving Private Ryan with Tom Hanks as a classic example of this approach. The film’s opening is set in present-day with the main character narrating the story. The first act then flashes back immediately to the main storyline, continuing for much of the film’s duration. Later in the third act, the story flashes forward again to present day for the wrap-up.

Would this not be an incredible approach for the impending Sunrise film? Producers within the Hunger Games franchise have taken plenty of questionable liberties with the storylines and characters before (some of which I can’t get passed), so this approach would not be a substantial leap for them. As of this writing, we can be certain that Sunrise will conclude with some version of Haymitch’s emotional Epilogue from the novel. Evidence is further circulating that points to the probable return of the aforementioned trilogy franchise actors to do so. Why not double down with Katniss and Peeta assembling their book, and Haymitch raising his geese at the start of the film before he flashes back? I imagine I would not be the only enthusiast to applaud such a decision. This would be a smashing win for the franchise at the box office, and an equally satisfying — and refreshingly creative — diversion for enthusiasts who are eager to see the return of Lawrence and friends. Indeed, this may not be the time to (finally) stick to Collins’ own canon. Of course, feel free to disagree… We’ll see if Lionsgate does too.

Sunrise on the 70s: Shag Carpet, Wood Paneling, and Orange Everywhere

Posted on November 30, 2025 by

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WARNING: Spoiler Alert for Capitol design trends in Sunrise on the Reaping

Upon finishing his first read of Sunrise on the Reaping, a student of mine keenly observed, “The color orange is everywhere in this book. What’s with all the orange?” I admittedly had not focused initially on how much orange is “painted” throughout the story, though he was certainly correct. The color clearly holds multiple meanings for various reasons, not the least being Maysilee’s secret about that orange paint (see this post for a focus on Maysilee). In this case, however, Suzanne Collins is clearly pointing somewhat nostalgically to the fashions and decor of middle-class suburban homes of the 1970s and into the 80s. It should come as no surprise, then, if the ensuing Sunrise film becomes the next prequel “period piece” featuring this eclectic, colorful and rather rebellious decade (more on this below).

While becoming acquainted with the Capitol, Haymitch provides some telling descriptions. The newly provided tribute apartment, for instance, had a “strange, impersonal quality,” and was apparently “decorated by someone whose taste runs to fluffy things and burnt orange” (SOR 91). He is likely experiencing his first orange shag carpet if this pattern is upheld, perhaps the most synonymous symbol of 1970s decor. After explaining how the apartment was an upgrade from the previous tribute barracks, Mags directs Haymitch into a room with “two beds covered with fuzzy orange spreads,” with pajamas included (92). Upon arrival, a “disgruntled” peacekeeper had led them “into a lobby with fake wood paneling and into an elevator that smells like old socks and cheap perfume” (86). One more observation comes from Haymitch when Effie’s makeup box spills on the floor, as “tubes of color roll across the burnt-orange carpet.” (174)

Anyone who remembers America’s auto suburbs of the 1970s can likely picture raised-ranch or split-level homes that featured fake-wood paneling, burnt-orange or avocado-green carpet, and related earth tones and “fluffy things” like pillows and throws. For those not fortunate to have spent their indoor teenage years enjoying such surroundings, “shag” carpet gets its name from its thick, deep pile made of yarn strands usually more than an inch long. This particular carpet and its darker (burnt) orange or related earth tones became a cultural statement of its own, fitting in quite well with Collins’ own rebellious theme. According to one historical account, “its deep pile and funky aesthetic… defined an era of bold self-expression and cozy rebellion against the clean lines of mid-century modern minimalism.” Completing the 1970s post-modernist vibe were the ever-present wood paneled walls and — outside the home — fake-paneled automobiles.

Sarah Lichtman, an associate professor of design history, adds that the minimalist, mid-century modern decor from the 1950s and 60s gave way to softer designs that largely reflected “a shift in the ethos of the period.” She continues to paint a picture of the transition into the 1970s: “It’s a tumultuous time: You have the Vietnam War, there’s lots of social and political unrest… There’s also a lot of drug experimentation — not everybody, but that was part of what’s happening.” Families fortunate enough to partake in this quiet rebelliousness reflected an increased demand for comfortable and safer-feeling interiors. This cultural shift opened the door for the softer shag and wall-to-wall carpeting that were gradually becoming trendy.

Lichtman believes this social tumult created a heightened desire for comfortable, safe-feeling interiors, which helped lay the initial groundwork for the appeal of shag carpeting beginning in the 1960s. She explains, “There’s a sort of turning inward in the home, almost these womb-like spaces that you can see in some of the furnishings and objects that are starting to happen… I think shag carpeting is part of that softness that was coming into the interior” (Donovan and Sullivan, 2025). This was part of a larger trend in interior flooring, that of wall-to-wall carpeting. Technological advancements allowed carpet makers more freedom to use cheaper synthetic materials like nylon, which largely replaced real wool. Until after World War II, most people relied on area rugs to cover wood flooring; for centuries prior, fully carpeted rooms were considered a luxury. By the 1960s, however, the cost for wall-to-wall carpeting went down considerably and it became the standard expectation for newer homes throughout the twentieth century and beyond. In the decades following the war, more styles became available, and this led to experimentation.

One of those rather successful experiments was shag. As Jake Rossen writes, “Modern manufacturing and dye processes made it possible to opt for, say, orange shag to complement orange kitchen cabinets. This may seem like a bold choice now, but at the time there was a Technicolor attitude toward style” (Rossen, 2025). The trend was short-lived, however, as cleaning hassles proved to be its “Achilles heel.” The long strands of fiber quickly harbored dirt and debris deep down, largely unreachable by standard vacuum cleaners or carpet cleaning solutions. Rossen continues, “Shag enthusiasts often took a special carpet rake to the fibers to loosen grime. It acted as a kind of grooming tool, restoring the carpet’s fluff (Others just used an actual garden rake.) Ultimately it was an additional chore that homeowners grew to find tedious.”

Collins has apparently borrowed heavily from these popular 1970s interior design trends, as Haymitch has described above. The Western Development Museum in Canada’s Saskatchewan Province provides a nostalgic glimpse into how the Capitol’s decor around the 50th Games might have appeared. The museum recreated a 1970s living room which comes “fully loaded” with orange shag carpet, wood paneling, and recliner chairs. One of the museum’s coordinators, Corinne Daelick, explains their room in this article: “It’s a three-tone orange shag rug on the floor… Wood paneling on one wall and nice orange wallpaper on the other walls.” The article’s next sentence drives home the color choice, stating, “Orange is also featured on the furniture” (see accompanying photo below, and featured image above).

The Plastic Revolution: On Board and Off

Beyond Collins’ fascination with orange in her latest prequel, she further taps into the 1970s with a focus on standardized cheap plastic furniture. In the novel she decorates the Capitol’s evolving passenger train interiors much as early Amtrak or city transit riders would have encountered during the same decade. Haymitch makes a point to notice such things, despite having been effectively kidnapped from District 12 only hours earlier. He tells us, “Plutarch orders the Peacekeepers to uncuff me, then leads me down the rocking hallway of the train to another compartment. Molded plastic seats in an array of neon colors line the sides of the car” (39). Later he describes the food service and alerts us once again to the plastic: “Tibby wheels in a cart laden with the dinner stuff. Everything seems to be made of plastic in this train: cart, seats, utensils, cups, plates. Easy to spray down and sanitize after we’re out, I guess” (43). If nothing else, Maysilee should have been proud of his attention to interior design.

As railroad history writers have pointed out, the interiors of railway passenger trains tended to reflect the popular decor of urban society. The look and design of Panem’s passenger trains are thus an extension of the Capitol into the more peripheral regions of the country. In this case, Collins has decorated Panem’s trains of young Haymitch’s time with the colorful if tacky, mass-produced furnishings that exploded in America and Europe during the 1970s and 80s. Haymitch’s train seems to include everything but the Tupperware parties (Collins missed an opportunity here!).

During Amtrak’s first decade of the 1970s, our own national passenger rail service was still cobbling together older railroad equipment from the earlier private luxury trains that once plied the nation (see image below). And the federal budget for maintaining a skeleton passenger network in the US was extremely tight. Trains were all but out, and cheaper auto and air travel were in. By necessity, everything got simplified, both on board and inside the makeshift cubical rail stations with — you guessed it — standard-issue plastic seating. In Panem’s case, we seem to be witnessing the transition from 1920s and 40s-era railroad travel featured in Songbirds and Snakes to more streamlined trains with cheaper decor some 40 years later. That said, we do not yet see the luxurious, high-speed trains from the original series that dart around Panem at 200 miles per hour. No, during the 50th Games our hapless tributes are still traveling on rather conventional railroad trains on steel rails that Americans would have recognized during the mid-to-late 20th century.

Orange and purple interior of an early Amtrak observation car on the North Coast Hiawatha, operating between Chicago and Minneapolis in 1974. (Credit: Steve Brown Flickr Photostream)

A 1970s Period Piece? A Look at the Teaser Trailer

Will the highly-anticipated feature film for Sunrise become the next historical period piece of the saga? I would easily take one of Wyatt Callow’s good bets that this will be the case. The producers clearly had a fun time framing Ballad as a period piece set in the late 1950s reconstruction of communist-era East Berlin, as I discuss within my companion book, Behind the Ballads (yes, a shameless plug). Logic would have it that we would be treated to a 1970s and 80s period piece with Sunrise, thereby mirroring a similar historical progression within North America and Europe several decades later. Even Collins’ bizarre inclusion of toad licking seems focused on the shadier, psychedelic world of drug experimentation during this time, as noted earlier (see accompanying post). And there may be some “Flower Power” and Hippie counter-culture hangover from the 1960s as well, given such a focus on bright colors and an arena full of all things fluffy, colorful, and so deadly.

While we don’t see much of the Capitol within the film’s official teaser trailer released on Nov. 20, 2025, one might notice some subtle influences of the 70s trickling into various scenes. The District 12 reaping alone features nothing less then Drusilla’s bright orange hair, a scruffy-looking orange backdrop on the facade of the Justice Building, and — yes — even the orange colored reaping cards for District 12(!). Most of the countdown numbers and associated frames likewise feature various shades of sepia and/or burnt orange. I would expect that inside the Capitol itself will be much more of the same. Only time will tell the extent to which we will experience a 1970s “extreme makeover” of the Capitol. Would disco balls be out of the question? Perhaps the Victory Tour at the President’s mansion will feature some Boogie Nights!

Pa Abernathy’s Big Metaphor: Painting Posters and Reclaiming the Narrative

Posted on November 16, 2025 by

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Warning: Spoilers ahead for Sunrise on the Reaping

Author’s Fun Note: Sarshee Whitcomb is likely named for author and poet, James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916), known as the “Hoosier poet” in Indiana for his accomplishments in children’s poetry and as a best-selling author. Given that Suzanne Collins completed her bachelor’s degree at IU-Bloomington, this local prominent author certainly did not escape her attention.

Aside from the speedy Woodbine Chance who nearly escapes the reaping, another unsung tribute plays a significant role in the plot of Sunrise. Sarshee Whitcomb is introduced to us gradually within the spectacular whirlwind that is the first two chapters (Wow!). Haymitch eventually takes a breath and recalls that Sarshee was the daughter of his Pa’s old crew boss in the mines who was reaped several years earlier. Her father had died of black lung disease before the reaping, leaving Sarshee orphaned and without family visitors. Haymitch therefore went along with his parents to the Justice Building to say goodbye, assuring that she would not be entirely alone during her final minutes in District 12. In one respect this compassionate act serves as yet another indicator of the Seam’s strong community ties and their mutual support for one another. More to the point of Collins’ storyline, however, it is Sarshee’s unwitting story of saying goodbye that sets up one of the most compelling themes of Sunrise — that of “painting posters.”

The first to mention the notion of painting posters was actually Haymitch’s Ma, Willamae Abernathy. During the the drama of the reaping, she asks Haymitch, “You remember what Pa said to the Whitcomb child?” Ma says urgently. “It still goes.” This triggers Haymitch’s memory just long enough to recall his Pa telling Sarshee, “Don’t let them use you, Sarshee, Don’t — ” (SOR 34). At this point, Drusilla interrupts and Haymitch is tazed and forced onto the train. Now underway, he relaxes somewhat and recalls what his Pa had said to Sarshee in the Justice Building:

Don’t let them use you, Sarshee. Don’t let them paint their posters with your blood. Not if you can help it. – Pa Abernathy (SOR 49)

As the story’s narrator, Haymitch then thinks aloud for us to consider what this means. He says, “That’s what Ma wanted me to remember. Even though – maybe especially because – she had just let Plutarch use her and Sid like puppets. She had failed, but wanted me to be strong.” (49) What Haymitch may not have considered yet was that his Ma certainly made this strategic decision to gain some precious time with her oldest son.

We can interpret Pa Abernathy’s original “painting posters with your blood” as a metaphor for how oppressive regimes utilize propaganda to control their narrative. While the “posters” represent the government’s control of information through propaganda, the “blood” represents the population being exploited for the benefit of those in power — or those with the money — which is always one and the same. Basically Pa was imploring Sarshee to not validate the Capitol’s narrative with her own actions or images.

Haymitch puts it another way, just after his name is called during the second take of the reaping. He sees the camera cut to Lenore Dove, who “isn’t crying, so Plutarch won’t get his tearful good-bye. Not from her and not from me. They will not use our tears for their entertainment“ (SOR 28). Perhaps ironically, this latter quote has been deployed extensively for Scholastic’s marketing campaigns to promote the prequel (wink), which further indicates the centrality of Collins’ vital message. Although Haymitch had not realized it yet at the reaping, he had already “painted his own poster” of resistance by refusing to let the Capitol’s propaganda machine use their sorrowful goodbyes for good television.

For his part, Haymitch first makes the connection between resisting authority and painting posters during the tribute parade fiasco. He correctly supposes the Capitol will likely remove Louella’s body to hide their own incompetence and to avoid any potential negative publicity. He reflects, “This is not the blood they want to paint their posters with.” At this point Haymitch’s courage starts to build, thinking of options for active defiance. He considers, “maybe it does make a difference if I resist as best I can. Maybe this is where I paint my own poster.” (78) His next decision is incredible, ending with Haymitch holding Louella’s lifeless body in front of a stunned President Snow.

After Haymitch works out the full meaning of his Pa’s directive, he quickly turns the phrase to his own advantage. As noted above, he considers that he might paint his own poster instead, essentially appropriating the “poster” metaphor as a symbol of resistance against the Capitol. And so it goes for the remainder of the novel. Eventually he shares the poster metaphor with Maysilee, which makes for some thoughtful dialogue between the duo. As the story’s narrator, Haymitch relates the following conversation:

We sit smack down in the clump of katniss, side by side, completely done in. I can barely hear her whisper. “One of us has to win this thing.” My eyes travel up the long stems to the arrow-shaped leaves, the white petals, concealing us from Capitol cameras. “Why’s that?” I whisper back. “One of us has to be the worst victor in history. Tear up their scripts, tear down their celebrations, set fire to the Victor’s Village. Refuse to play their game.” Reminds me of Pa. “Make sure they don’t use our blood to paint their posters?” “Exactly. We’ll paint our own posters. And I know just where we can get the paint.” In a gesture I remember from the schoolyard long ago, she extends her pinkie. “Swear it.” I encircle it with my own and our pinkies lock tight. They will never let me be a victor, not after my attempt to break the arena, but I can swear to try to keep her alive. “One of us paints the posters.” (290)

There’s a lot to unpack here. First is the reference to Katniss and the connotation that she is protecting these early rebels to eventually take on the cause herself. Then Maysilee becomes determined to burn it all down, refusing to “play their game.” This is Haymitch’s opening to suggest they paint their own posters of defiance, to which she agrees. Then she throws in the quip about knowing where they can find the paint, a reference to her ongoing secret about Lenore Dove. At this point the comment passes over Haymitch’s head. The pinkie swear then sets up a life-long promise, to paint the ultimate poster of rebellion against the Capitol and the Games. Though not believing he can win, he promises to his newfound sibling that one of them will get the job done. Later back home, he will make a similar — and even more dramatic — promise to the ghost of Lenore Dove.

Haymitch and Maysilee continue to find ways to “paint their own posters” of defiance within the arena. They often do so in an attempt to maintain their sense of humanity while refusing to validate the Capitol’s narrative that district residents are no better than animals. This is why a defiant Maysilee is intent on demonstrating that all district people are equal to or better (and smarter) than her Capitol counterparts. She demands cutlery and plates on the train, and she lays out a stunning breakfast setting for Haymitch and herself within the arena. She is taking the advice given to Sarshee Whitcomb to heart. When Haymitch thanks her for setting out a “breakfast so fancy,” Maysilee responds, “Thought I’d kick off the day with a poster.” (294) This language becomes a secret code between them in the arena, since those overseeing the Games presumably have no knowledge of Pa’s earlier “poster” metaphor.

Haymitch then makes the connection between Maysilee’s behaviors and her own style of defiance. He reflects,

And I remember her words that first day on the train. “Listen, Louella, if you let them treat you like an animal, they will. So don’t let them.” This morning’s poster says, We’re civilized. We appreciate beautiful things. We’re as good as you. It’s an extension of her whole campaign to show the Capitol our value. Will they know that she’s referring to rebellion? I doubt it. They don’t know what Pa’s told me. A poster could merely be promoting us as tributes. And what harm is there in a few flower napkins anyway? “Nice paint job,” I say, and actually get a smile. (294)

The poster metaphor further relates to another of Collins’ central themes, that of implicit submission. This is introduced in a quote by philosopher David Hume within the novel’s opening epigraph. To paraphrase, Hume (or more directly, Collins) is asking why so many people passively consent to a small cadre of leaders with little initiative to resist or rebel (go here for a more thorough focus on implicit submission and David Hume). By directing Sarshee to not let them paint their posters with her blood, Pa was appealing her to not tacitly give in to authority — to not implicitly submit. Haymitch connects these related concepts in the following exchange with Plutarch:

“No more implicit submission for you, Haymitch Abernathy. Blow that water tank sky high. The entire country needs you to.” I can’t help but think of Pa’s directive to Sarshee Whitcomb. Seems like a lot to lay on my doorstep. Fix this mess for us, or else. (SOR 197)

Basically, to implicitly submit to authority is to allow them to “paint their posters with your blood.” Both concepts imply a lack of willpower or courage to resist oppressive regimes and their leaders. By this time in the story, both Haymitch and Maysilee have found a variety of ways to paint their own posters as noted above. Then Haymitch turns to an act of kindness to demonstrate a shared sense of humanity and exploitation common to all the tributes — Careers and Newcomers alike. In a rather tearjerking scene, he notices Silka taking a break below his tree, and he makes an instant decision to demonstrate unity among the tributes:

I become intensely aware of the three of us, huddled around this tree, the last trio of human heartbeats in the arena. Sad, desperate, but also a rare moment of district unity in the Games. You know what would make it even better? I drop a handful of chocolate balls into the night. A startled sound. The sobs soften to sniffles. A candy wrapper crackles. Quiet. Not a bad poster, all in all. (314)

This is a subtle though powerful statement of kindness, unity, and empathy toward a tribute who is designated by the Capitol to be a lethal enemy. The last thing Capitol residents and oddsmakers want to see are tributes being kind to one another. This is nothing less than a serious act of defiance against the Capitol, against the spirit of the Games (designed to divide rather than unify the districts), and against a cold-hearted president.

This act is reminiscent of a similar act of kindness and compassion that would openly defy the Capitol a quarter century later in the form of one Katniss Everdeen. She comforts Rue in her final minutes of life and places flowers around her body to honor Rue’s death and life. While she may not recognize her act as a conscious act of defiance, it is still precisely that. Kindness has no place in the Games. Katniss had painted her own poster without knowing it, and she would do so many times thereafter (along with many of her peers). Another post — perhaps Part 2 to this one — might apply Pa Abernathy’s big metaphor of painting posters to the original trilogy.

Then in final dramatic fashion — in what may constitute the very climax of the storyline — Haymitch hits the bottle hard and finds himself in a back alley of the District 12 townscape. He awakes to find himself staring at a message of graffiti in bright orange paint: NO CAPITOL, NO HANGING TREE! NO CAPITOL, NO REAPING! He quickly recognizes the message as a “rebel play on the Capitol’s propaganda,” and a “rallying cry beyond the Peacekeepers’ radar” (373). He then makes a stunning connection, saying,

Full of surprises. Full of secrets, even from me. But Maysilee had put it together. Orange paint on her fingernails. This is Lenore Dove’s work. Her sign. Her message to me now. Her reminder that I must prevent another sunrise on the reaping. And it says, “You promised me.” With that, she condemns me to life. (373)

It turns out that Maysilee’s big secret was that she knew what Lenore Dove was up to with the orange paint. She still had traces of it on her fingernails after painting her own “poster” (quite literally) on an alley building wall. And Haymitch also solved the meaning of Maysilee’s earlier comment: “Well, your gal’s full of surprises. Guess she got the jump on us after all.” (373) She knew that Lenore Dove had already been painting her own posters in various ways to reclaim the narrative from the Capitol’s propaganda. She refused from the beginning to not allow the Capitol to use her blood for their entertainment. And finally — now as a ghostly reminder — she has convinced Haymitch to dedicate his life to doing the same. From this point, the trilogy beckons and an unsuspecting daughter of one Burdock Everdeen will pick up Lenore Dove’s baton. The Mockingjay is born.

Credit for Feature Image: Fan Art by “25 riggad,” Pinterest (posted by Tara Lynn)

What Lies Beneath the Snow: How Lucy Gray, Coriolanus, and Sejanus Explore Human Nature Throughout Songbirds and Snakes

Posted on November 11, 2025 by

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(Author’s Note: Material here is adapted from sections of my companion book, Behind the Ballads.)

There’s no doubt that featuring Coriolanus Snow in the first prequel caused some controversy. Despite what Coryo may think, however, it’s not all about him. We find that beneath the surface of Collins’ plot and main character is a grander purpose. The novel was designed in its entirety to encourage our exploration of human nature and the related governing systems that may or may not serve us well. This was no trivial undertaking on Collins’ part (for more, see her incredible Scholastic interview). Differing notions of what explains human beings have led to spin-off political structures around the world, including that of the United States. The first hint of Collins’ fundamental purpose for writing the prequel came with her comments below on the day of its release, May 19, 2020: 

With this book, I wanted to explore the state of nature, who we are, and what we perceive is required for our survival. The reconstruction period ten years after the war, commonly referred to as the Dark Days—as the country of Panem struggles back to its feet—provides fertile ground for characters to grapple with these questions and thereby define their views of humanity. (“News Room”)

While easy—or tempting—to overlook in favor of diving into the 10th Games, Collins’ one-page epigraph offers five thought-provoking quotes to set the stage for her story. And probably more to the point for readers and viewers of Ballad, this material helps us unlock the varied worldviews of Coriolanus, Sejanus, and Lucy Gray. What better way to learn about the great thinkers of Europe’s Enlightenment Era than to read an absorbing Hunger Games prequel? The remainder of this post will consider each character in turn.

Lucy Gray, Rousseau, and Frankenstein

Lucy Gray’s philosophy on life is especially highlighted in two conversations with Coriolanus in both the book and film. As the happy couple is leaving District 12 for a promising new life in the wilderness, Coriolanus mentions that people are “mostly awful.” This provides an opening for Lucy Gray. She says, “People aren’t so bad, really… It’s what the world does to them. Like us, in the arena. We did things in there we’d never have considered if they’d just left us alone” (BSS 492). Following more dialogue, she adds, “I think there’s a natural goodness built into human beings. You know when you’ve stepped across the line into evil, and it’s your life’s challenge to try and stay on the right side of that line.” In the so-called “nature versus nurture” debate, she basically believes we are all born as decent and pure beings. Only later does the world potentially corrupt and eat away at that goodness.

Lucy Grays’s overarching philosophy can be matched most closely with that of the Enlightenment thinker, Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778) (Frankel, “Songbirds”). In the prequel’s epigraph Collins provides a quote from Rousseau’s The Social Contract (1762): “Man is born free; and everywhere he is in chains.” This succinctly states his belief that people are born with inherent goodness until rendered corrupt by society’s myriad of challenges and hardships.

This line of thought translates into Rousseau’s ideal form of government. His central political doctrine is that a state can be legitimate only if it is guided by the “general will” of its members. The people will enjoy the protection provided by the state while still retaining their individual freedoms. In The Social Contract Rousseau tackled what he considered to be the fundamental question of politics—that is, how to reconcile the freedom of the individual with the authority of the state (“Jean Jacques”). He argued that the laws of the state are ideally willed and approved by the citizens themselves. Thus, one is simply following the people’s collective will by obeying the laws. As a result, the subjects of this government essentially remain free. As Frankel suggests, “The Covey model this peaceful, utopian self-rule. If Lucy Gray were to build a government, she would choose this kind” (Frankel, “Songbirds” 41-42). Since people are naturally decent, she believes they can police themselves.

Collins’ epigraph also includes a quote from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein in support of Rousseau: “I thought of the promise of virtues which he had displayed on the opening of his existence and the subsequent blight of all kindly feeling by the loathing and scorn which his protectors had manifested towards him.” In her book, Shelley applies Rousseau’s theories by creating Frankenstein with a blank slate who has unlimited potential. While he begins his manufactured life completely benevolent and harmless, it is the incessant mistreatment and abuse from ignorant humans that turn him violent. As Frankel writes, “Certainly, the entire Hunger Games series stresses this, with characters from Peeta to Cato explaining that the games have made them killers” (Frankel, “Songbirds”). Lucy Gray demonstrates that people are inherently decent by saving Coriolanus not once, but twice—inside the tribute truck and during the arena bombing. Though genuinely grateful, Coriolanus remains puzzled and wonders why she didn’t simply escape from the arena when given the chance.

Lucy Gray’s behavior counters Coriolanus’ belief that people are self-centered and therefore need to be forcefully controlled. Rousseau’s connection between individual freedom of choice and the innate decency of humans is critical to his argument against authoritarian government. To renounce freedom in favor of another person’s authority is contrary to one’s morality (“Jean Jacques”). Nonetheless, Coriolanus ultimately comes to prefer the strict authoritarian controls promoted by Thomas Hobbes, as explored below.

Coriolanus, Gaul, and Thomas Hobbes

Another opening quote in the epigraph features the philosopher Thomas Hobbes, taken from his Leviathan (1651): “Hereby it is manifest, that during the time men live without a common Power to keep them all in awe, they are in that condition which is called Warre; and such a warre, as is of every man, against every man.” Cutting to the chase here, Coriolanus can be considered Hobbes reincarnate—a veritable avatar of Hobbesian thinking on the state of humanity. And in his time Hobbes believed that humanity’s normal state was one of perpetual war. Not fun. And definitely “not candy,” to quote Ballad’s own Lucky Flickerman.

To better understand Coriolanus, then, we must turn to Hobbes, whose upbringing was shaped by the incessant brutality of the English Civil War. His own childhood was fundamentally affected by observing his country’s political disintegration. He came to believe that even the most oppressive government would be favorable to the horrors and chaos produced by civil war. He further argued that continued stability could only be guaranteed if people agreed to refrain from undermining the regime. Perhaps most apropos for Coriolanus, Hobbes pressed for a reciprocal relationship between political obedience and peace.

To emphasize his point, Hobbes invited his contemporaries to consider what life would be like in a state of nature—or said another way, a society without a centralized government. In return for providing so-called peace and security for the districts, as his propaganda video claims, the districts supply resources the Capitol needs. This basic thinking represents a colonial economic system. Extractive resources like lumber, coal, and grain flow from the exploited colonies (e.g. colonial America) to the colonizing power (e.g. Britain) for the manufacturing of everyday products. In the real world, at least some of those products filter back to the colonies for purchase in peripheral markets. Not so much in Panem’s districts, however.

As one might expect, Hobbes’ preference for an authoritarian state did not sit well with England’s common folk. He spent a decade in exile in Paris, having left England in 1640 and not returning until 1651. His exile was related to the ongoing civil war and his stalwart perspectives on the conflict. Because he supported the royalists, Hobbes may have feared punishment due to his persistent defense of absolute sovereignty. He wrote Leviathan while finishing his sojourn in France, and it was published the year of his return to England in 1651.

Hobbes became famous for his elaborate writings on what came to be known as social contract theory. Essentially, he justified political principles around which a population should unite to govern themselves. Most famously, he applied his theory of the social contract to his astonishing conclusion that citizens should limit their freedoms and submit to an absolute sovereign power. Rather than take him seriously, however, his perspective has often been used as a foil to argue for more democratic political systems (“Hobbes’s”).

Strangely, Hobbes somehow left a giant loophole within his social contract theory. That is, he reserves the right of a government’s subjects—its people—to disobey the state’s commands when deemed necessary. Say what? The people retain the right, he argues, to defend themselves against a sovereign power—that is, to resist, rebel, and disobey—when their lives are in danger, or when their families or even their honor are at stake. Those who have studied Hobbes have been understandably intrigued, if not puzzled, with what he calls the “true liberties of subjects.” More recent commentators have viewed this as the Achilles’ heel of Hobbes’ theory (“Hobbes’s”). 

Perhaps had the younger Snow studied Hobbes more thoroughly, he may have taken this important qualification to heart. Katniss and her rebel followers sure did.

Coming full circle, Dr. Gaul reframes Hobbes’ core beliefs as the trifecta of chaos, control, and contract. Coriolanus struggles with these concepts off and on throughout much of the prequel. As a follow-up to his essay on what he liked about the war, Dr. Gaul asks Coriolanus to elaborate on the value of control. Coriolanus tells her, “Chaos happens. What else is there to say?” to which Gaul responds, “Oh, a good deal, I think. Start with that. Chaos. No control, no law, no government at all. Like being in the arena. Where do we go from there? What sort of agreement is necessary if we’re to live in peace? What sort of social contract is required for survival?” (BSS 244).

As readers attempt to follow his thinking, we thereby witness the young Snow’s education in Hobbesian theory. Within his final essay to Dr. Gaul, Coriolanus concludes, “Without the control to enforce the contract, chaos reigned. The power that controlled needed to be greater than the people—otherwise, they would challenge it. The only entity capable of this was the Capitol” (BSS 292).

Upon returning from his adventures in District 12, he encounters Dr. Gaul for a follow-up conversation. She asks, “Did you think about the Hunger Games?” Elaborating from his earlier thoughts, he says, “They’re not just to punish the districts, they’re part of the eternal war… And they’re a reminder of what we did to each other, what we have the potential to do again, because of who we are.” Dr. Gaul then asks who we are, to which he responds, “Creatures who need the Capitol to survive” (BSS 508-9). And right there is the Hobbesian perspective undressed.

Sejanus and John Locke

We gain more insights into Sejanus’ character through his own belief system. Collins’ epigraph also provides a quote from Enlightenment thinker John Locke (1632-1704): “The state of nature has a law of nature to govern it, which obliges every one: and reason, which is that law, teaches all mankind, who will but consult it, that being all equal and independent, no one ought to harm another in his life, health, liberty, or possessions…” (Second Treatise of Government, 1689). As Locke’s quote attests, the natural condition of humans is characterized by freedom and equality. To preserve one’s liberty, health, and property is a natural-born right that everyone enjoys.

However, Locke further recognized that natural law was insufficient to protect people’s lives and property. A set of common laws is also necessary, created through a voluntary “social contract” in which the people willingly give up some power to a central government. Should the government not fulfill its obligation, the people have a natural right to form a new one. Consequently, the public holds the right to resist authority. No less than America’s Founders took Locke’s philosophies to heart as they proceeded with their own populous rebellion. Thomas Jefferson and his peers embraced Locke’s fundamental ideas and inscribed them into the Declaration of Independence.

During the 17th and 18th centuries it was common for philosophers to write about natural rights theory and the notion of the social contract. Natural rights are those that humans are said to enjoy before a centralized government comes into being. For instance, we all have the right to struggle for our own survival, just like other animals. This is Locke’s fundamental view as well. To explain the importance of government, Locke proposes that living conditions in the state of nature are unsatisfactory. In turn, people agree to transfer some of their natural-born rights to a central government to protect people’s lives, liberty, and property. This essentially describes the notion of social contract theory.

Although government is necessary to uphold the people’s will, Locke spends much of his writing in opposition to authoritarianism. Rather, sovereignty resides in the people. He was radical for his time in further calling for the separation of Church and State in his Letter Concerning Toleration. Locke preferred that each of us use our own reasoning to search for truth rather than simply accepting the opinions of so-called authorities (“John”).

With his unwavering concern for human rights, Sejanus becomes the unwitting personification of John Locke and his worldview. We first witness this parallel when an emotional Sejanus explains why he had suggested trading tributes—that is, Marcus for Lucy Gray. He erupts, “It’s just this whole Hunger Games thing is making me crazy! I mean, what are we doing? Putting kids in an arena to kill each other? It feels wrong on so many levels. Animals protect their young, right? And so do we. We try to protect children! It’s built into us as human beings. Who really wants to do this? It’s unnatural!” (BSS 76).

Later he courageously lashes out at Dr. Gaul, arguing, “You’ve no right to starve people, to punish them for no reason. No right to take away their life and freedom. Those are things everyone is born with, and they’re not yours for the taking. Winning a war doesn’t give you that right. Having more weapons doesn’t give you that right. Being from the Capitol doesn’t give you that right. Nothing does” (BSS 160). The film’s Sejanus includes a variation on this powerful statement. He adds that Panem’s government exists to protect everyone—district and Capitol citizen alike. Either way, Sejanus’ notion of inalienable rights could have easily been voiced by John Locke himself.

In sum, with all of these timeless ideas to ponder, Snow may indeed land on top. But what lies beneath may exist the most enlightening story of all.

References

Frankel, V. Songbirds, Snakes & Sacrifice: Collins’ Prequel References and Philosophies Explained. LitCrit Press, 2020.

“Hobbes’s Moral and Political Philosophy.” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, revised 12 September, 2022.

“Jean Jacques Rousseau.” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, revised 21 April, 2023.

“John Locke.” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, revised 07 July, 2022.

“News Room,” Scholastic.com, 04 October 2019.

IMAGES: Lucy Gray headshot (ENews); Sejanus headshot (Lionsgate); Coriolanus headshot (CBR); Featured Post Image (DrydenWire)

Unpacking David Hume’s “Implicit Submission”: How He Might Critique Songbirds and Snakes and the Social Contract

Posted on November 10, 2025 by

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David Hume

Warning: Spoilers ahead for Sunrise on the Reaping

No more implicit submission for you, Haymitch Abernathy.

Plutarch Heavensbee (SOR 197)

It appears that Collins’ fundamental message in her second prequel can be boiled down to two words: implicit submission. This concept first appears in the novel’s opening epigraph of quotes, a practice she began with Songbirds and Snakes. Compared to her more subtle integration of Enlightenment thinkers into her first prequel, however, it seems that this time she flipped the script. Perhaps she tired of too many readers missing her intended lessons. Now leaving nothing to chance, she virtually smacks us over the head with a Maysilee slap, over and over again. Both Haymitch and Plutarch openly discuss “implicit submission” at points throughout the story, directly pulling in David Hume’s now famous two-word phrase. Lest we forget, a reminder:

Nothing appears more surprising to those, who consider human affairs with a philosophical eye, than the easiness with which the many are governed by the few; and the implicit submission, with which men resign their own sentiments and passions to those of their rulers. When we enquire by what means this wonder is effected, we shall find, that, as Force is always on the side of the governed, the governors have nothing to support them but opinion…”

David Hume, 1741, “Essays, Moral and Political”

Basically Hume (1711-1776) was asking how it is possible for a few powerful individuals to almost effortlessly manage and control a massive population, with little or no pushback. This is astonishing, he believed, because — as he continues above — the real power is found in those who are being governed. Those in charge are basically living in a hall of mirrors, or a glass house that could come crashing down quickly. That is, if the general population did not implicitly submit to being governed by the few.

Hume points out that the overwhelming numbers of a population could theoretically topple any government rather quickly. Instead, his own observations and historical studies revealed that the public typically accepts their leaders with tacit consent. This is true within autocratic dictatorships and the most liberal democracies alike. For those of us tempted to believe this lack of collective willpower is a recent phenomenon, Hume was already questioning these political power dynamics well before the birth of the United States and its democratic experiment.

So, Collins decided to emphasize in Sunrise that the masses could theoretically rebel—peacefully or otherwise—to overthrow their leaders at any time. The question is, why don’t they? (Or, to better reflect on our own society, why don’t we?) She deftly asks this question by focusing on the experiences of poor Haymitch, who can’t seem to catch a break. He is pressed by numerous others in his life — namely Lenore Dove, Plutarch, Maysilee, and even Willamae, his mother — to stand up for something, to act in defiance against the Capitol in some way, to fight the temptation to implicitly submit. In one prominent case, Plutarch gives his own directive to Haymitch in the following narrative:

“…One last thing. From the Capitol’s perspective, the Games are the best propaganda we have. You tributes, you’re our stars. You carry it out. But only if we control the narrative. Don’t let us.” Plutarch grasps my shoulders and gives me a little shake. “No more implicit submission for you, Haymitch Abernathy. Blow that water tank sky high. The entire country needs you to.” (SOR 197)

Haymitch more often than not descends into fits of guilt because he can’t or won’t stand up for his values. But sometimes he does just that, succumbing to occasional pangs of courage and a burning desire to do the right thing. For much of the story, Haymitch remains conflicted about what he should be doing, asking himself the hard questions that Collins hopes we will ponder as well.

Such deeply philosophical questions are not just a sideshow to Collins, but instead become the central focus of her story. In her exclusive interview for the Barnes & Noble edition of Sunrise, she immediately responds to Scholastic’s David Levithan about her primary goal: “If all people do is read the full Hume quote and discuss it, this book has been a win for me. This quote invites so many questions. Like, ‘Do you think Hume is right? As human beings, do we ultimately end up being governed by a few people? Not just in, say, a totalitarian state, but in a democracy?” Collins continues to ask why we have resigned ourselves to being ruled by a small number of leaders, along with the role of propaganda:

Why are we implicitly submitting to this? Especially since force is on our side, as the governed. Hume answers that for us. We’re allowing ourselves to be controlled by “opinion.” And that’s where propaganda comes in. All right, then, “What propaganda do we all consume on a daily basis that maintains this status quo? Is it harder to maintain in an autocracy or a democracy where we pride ourselves on our intellectual or political freedom? How much propaganda does it take to make you think that implicit submission is what you want? Is it inevitable? Is there a way to protect ourselves against it? What would that entail?”

Suzanne Collins, Interview with David levithan (B&N)

For Haymitch’s part, Collins introduces her lead character to the influences of propaganda in dramatic fashion. He is astonished and horrified about how Snow and the Capitol are controlling the narrative of the 50th Games and his role within it. He learns that he holds no individual power to authentically tell his own story. Indeed, this is how President Snow and his supporters have manipulated public opinion about the Games, through the blatant falsehoods of a controlled narrative.

Ampert’s Answer to Implicit Submission

Then there’s little Ampert Latier, who demonstrates admirably that the true power of a population lies with the many over the few. Or to say it more in Hume’s terms, “Force is always on the side of the governed.” Ampert’s ambitious goal is to assemble a growing alliance of “Newcomers”—as the courageous youngsters decide to call themselves after Haymitch’s suggestion. At Haymitch’s prodding, he explains his reasoning while taking impressive leadership of the group: “It’s like this,” he begins, “A disproportionate amount of the time, the Careers win. But they’re only one quarter of the tributes. We’ve got three times their numbers. So the idea is, we get the rest of us together and, for a change, we hunt them down instead of letting them hunt us” (113). Haymitch then silently realizes that the districts actually outnumber the Capitol by “far more than three to one.” Ampert continues, “We don’t have to buy into their mind game, that somehow they will always defeat us… Everyone acts like the odds aren’t in our favor, but I’m sure we can beat those odds.” Essentially Ampert is refusing to implicitly submit to the propaganda and expectations of the Capitol. He is making Hume’s point that the power actually lies with the governed, as they far outnumber those in charge.

This message becomes a running thread throughout the 50th Games, as Haymitch and friends keep occasional tallies of remaining Newcomers and Careers. Ampert’s efforts represent the first step to collaboration among the districts that will eventually occur more formally during Katniss’ time. A similar alliance forms during the 75th Games, with a good number of them leading the way into actual rebellion.

Collins emphasizes the role of Ampert and the Newcomers later in her extensive interview with David Levithan (B&N edition). She explains, “Ampert’s laying the groundwork for the rebellion later with the district alliance in the third Quarter Quell. It’s a work in progress. Even in the trilogy, we’re well into the war before the rebels finally get all the districts on board. But Ampert’s message wins out. ‘We don’t have to put up with living under the Capitol’s rule. We have greater numbers, more power, more strength. We can change our lives.'” Ampert’s Newcomers can thus be interpreted as Hume reincarnate. His leadership ultimately unifies many of the tributes to defy a common enemy and — in turn — to resist the temptation to implicitly submit to authority.

And, of course, Ampert’s focus on power in numbers provides a running purpose for Wyatt Callow’s character arc. He becomes indispensable with calculating the odds of success or failure at a moment’s notice. It is in these ways that Ampert and Wyatt demonstrate how we can all take Hume’s central idea to heart. Ideally, submitting blindly to a few powerful leaders is not necessary, as the population truly holds the power. At first, even Haymitch remains unconvinced, as he suspects that his “ally days began and ended with Louella.” (SOR 85) But Ampert persists in his diplomatic quest, eventually bringing the total Newcomer count to twice that of the Careers. Wyatt can live with those odds, at least for now.

Hume’s Rebuttal to Social Contract Theory — and to Songbirds and Snakes

What is not so obvious in Collins’ latest prequel is how Hume disputed the more popular social contract theory favored by numerous peers. Hume’s thinking about implicit submission was actually out of the mainstream and remains so to this day. He was one of the most critical toward the idea that people will willingly give up some basic human freedoms in exchange for the security and laws provided by a central government. The notion of a social contract between the governing and the governed was promoted widely by fellow philosophers of the time, especially by Thomas Hobbes, John Locke, and Jean-Jacques Rousseau. The concept eventually became the cornerstone of contemporary democracies—not the least being that of the United States. It is especially John Locke’s more optimistic view of human nature and his own social contract theory that served as the model for the US Constitution.

Readers of Songbirds and Snakes might recognize Locke, Rousseau, and Hobbes from that prequel’s own epigraph of quotes. Collins essentially created avatar-like characters to embody their differing philosophies on human nature and preferences for various governing structures. Her avatars should be quite familiar from the first prequel, namely Coriolanus Snow (speaking for Hobbes), Lucy Gray Baird (speaking for Rousseau), and Sejanus Plinth (speaking for John Locke). In brief, Collins devotes much of their dialogue to compare differing philosophies on human nature. To the chagrin of many, it is Snow—with his dark, Hobbesian worldview—who “lands on top,” at least for now. (See this post for more interpretation of Ballad’s three philosophers.)

As emphasized in Songbirds & Snakes, the “big three” philosophers and their avatars demonstrated vast contrasts between their own personal views of human nature and effective government. But Hobbes, Locke, and Rousseau held one fundamental belief in common. They presumed that humans were overall rational beings and could make collective decisions that made logical sense. That is, people are rational enough to consciously buy into a social contract with a governing institution to secure their own peace and safety.

Hume was not having any of that, however. He argued in his Treatise of Human Nature (1739) that “Reason is, and ought only to be, the slave of the passions.” That is, humans were little different from Greek gods: both irrational and incapable of establishing consensus governments through the collective voice of reason (Gongqing, et. al, 2025). He viewed the social contract as “historical fiction,” a mental fabrication that inaccurately attributed the formation of governments to collective consent. Rather, he noted in the historical record that political institutions originate and evolve out of various sudden or long-term processes. These could include anything from outright invasion and conquering to gradual usurping of power over time. There is no “social contract,” but more so an uncontrolled evolution of events and decisions that mold a governing body.

At least for purposes here, the notion of Hume’s “implicit submission” becomes all the more fascinating when we realize that his observation is based on his rejection of the social contract theory. Humans are not rationally surrendering some rights to a new government to protect them through rational laws, he believed, but are rather simply submitting to a central authority without their collective consent. The form of the governing institution itself (from democracy to autocracy) is irrelevant. In Suzanne Collins’ fictional world of Panem, therefore, her first prequel rested on the notion of the social contract and the vast array of forms it can take. In contrast, Sunrise on the Reaping moves into an entirely different direction. Now she provides a voice to Hume’s rebuttal, encouraging readers to ask why the many so willingly submit to the few. It was Hume’s central question and—thanks to Collins—is ours now as well.

Sources:

The Basics of Philosophy: David Hume

Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy: David Hume

Britannica, David Hume

The Socratic Method: David Hume

Gongqing, Li, et. al., 2025. “Hume’s doubts about politics: A critique and reimagining of Social Contract Theory.” Journal of Politics and Law, Vol. 18, No. 2.

Inside the Baffling Gamemaker Scene in Sunrise: Fight, Flight, Freeze, or Implicit Submission?

Posted on August 8, 2025 by

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WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD for Sunrise on the Reaping

After a lighthearted moment with Haymitch and Maysilee tromping toward the hedge, the pair is suddenly surprised by a Career ambush (p. 296). Notably, their water jug breaks, the knife having narrowly missed both of them. So far, this is standard fare for Hunger Games action written by Suzanne Collins. Then in mid-chase, Haymitch finds himself on his butt as he slides on an ice-like substance into a clearing. He tries to make sense of an “incomprehensible image,” namely three young Gamemakers in their signature white outfits, one of them with, well, a mop . . . in the forest (another issue). The two female Gamemakers are diligently repairing something with their high-pitched, whining drill, which Haymitch had mistaken earlier for a giant mosquito mutt.

It can be assumed that the presence of young Gamemakers in the arena is due somehow to Haymitch’s destruction of the water tank. Still, questions remain as to just why they were sent in the first place, and without decent communication, weapons, or instant warning systems — but I digress. Upon the tributes’ slippery arrivals, everyone simply freezes in their tracks, at least for an instance while they all take in the bizarre scene. Haymitch comes to a halt only a few feet from the Gamemaker trio, and he conjures an image of slime that resembles the product of boiling okra (say what?). This is only half of why this scene is so strange on its own merit, but let’s focus on Haymitch’s response and that of others. Was he really so worried about repercussions from the all-powerful Capitol? Even he’s not so sure later. It’s more likely that a combination of implicit submission and psychological response mechanisms can better explain his own (in)actions. Consequently, Haymitch’s brain is likely more complicated than Plutarch (or David Hume) would have us believe.

Summarizing the Gamemaker Scene

Much like his confused readers, Haymitch tells us that everyone at the clearing initially freezes to absorb the situation. Breaking the ice (pun intended), Silka then rams into the clearing and goes down, knocking over a bucket of slime in her clumsiness. This is at least worth a chuckle, but also causes the indignant male Gamemaker to display his Capitol-esque sense of superiority and Effie-like focus on the mundane with a “Hey! Watch it!” (297). This is ironic, given Haymitch’s observation that mopping is a “bottom-of-the-ladder job,” then adding what we are all likely thinking: “so, finding a Gamemaker at it seems bizarre.”

Agreed. This whole scene seems totally out of place and time — both at this point in Collins’ story line, and within a hyper-controlled if damaged arena. In any case, the naive Gamemakers seal their collective fates when they accuse the tributes of being in “absolute violation of the rules,” and that if they don’t withdraw, “there will be repercussions.” Maysilee lets loose with “That’d be a lot more impressive if you weren’t shaking like a leaf,” as she readies her blowgun. She recognizes they are expendable and tells them so, since they were apparently sent here to “tidy up for us” (297). As the trio makes a hasty retreat back to the mutt portal, Maritte’s trident flies over Maysilee and kills the mopper, while Maysilee sends a poison dart into the woman with the drill. The lone survivor is so scared she jumps down into the portal only to meet her own death on Sub-A. This leaves Maritte, Silka, and Maysilee to face off until the bombs and tear gas start falling, and everyone clears out to recover. The hovercraft conveniently leaves Haymitch and Maysilee alone, however, as he guesses it could only track one set of tributes. Alrighty then.

More than Implicit Submission?

For a plot scene only two pages long (297-98), the number of questions it elicits could easily fill twice that space. Perhaps this is a credit to Collins’ own brilliance with creative writing and storytelling. If nothing else, this strange encounter with Gamemakers inside the arena encourages us to think more deeply — always one of Collins’ main goals. In that spirit, let’s try to answer Haymitch’s own question of why he reacts as he does in different situations.

Haymitch’s Implicit Submission: Does Collins intend this scene as another instance of implicit submission? To some extent, sure. As Maysilee calms down and forgives Haymitch afterward, he reflects seriously on why he froze up and did nothing, telling us, “I think of the moment with the knives in training, of the country as a whole, and how we just keep submitting to the Capitol’s rule. Why?” (300) This question actually encapsulates Collins’ fundamental lesson of her entire novel. In the book’s epigraph (page of quotes), she features a central quote from Enlightenment philosopher David Hume, who observes, “Nothing appears more surprising to those, who consider human affairs with a philosophical eye, than the easiness with which the many are governed by the few; and the implicit submission, with which men resign their own sentiments and passions to those of their rulers.” If Collins intended just one central purpose for this otherwise crazy scene inside the arena, this is probably it. Much of the dialogue that follows between Maysilee and Haymitch is devoted to this very question. Still, poor Haymitch fails to land on a satisfactory answer for himself as he narrates below:

Well, I feel terrible, and utterly lack a defense. My knife was in hand, the Gamemakers in easy reach. No one better positioned to kill them. Plutarch’s voice taunts me. “The question is, why didn’t you?” I can’t say I’m not a killer anymore. That leaves brainwashed or cowardly… I don’t know what it was. Just programmed to be walked all over, I guess.

A despondent haymitch abernathy

Fight, Flight, Freeze, or Fawn: Another possible answer to help understand his responses to stressful situations might involve human psychology more than implicit submission (at least in isolated cases like this one). Many of us have heard about the “fight or flight” mechanism, whereby each human will instinctively either flee from a threat or face it head on. This article from Simply Psychology provides a useful overview of these bodily reactions, including two additional ones more recently recognized by scientists: freeze or fawn (see below). The author begins bluntly, “The primary function of the brain is not to keep one happy or calm, but to keep one alive.” This seems somehow fitting for our future Haymitch, who sarcastically advises Katniss to “stay alive.” This is admittedly one’s primary goal inside the arena — aside from various altruistic efforts to keep someone else alive instead (I’m talking to you, Katniss, Peeta, Mags, Johanna, and so forth…)

Rather than simply succumbing to implicit submission and lack of political willpower, we might better attribute Haymitch’s inconsistent responses to complex human psychology and brain functioning. Here are the four recognized response mechanisms as adapted from the article cited above:

  • Fight: Aggressively confronting or standing up to an immediate threat or crisis.
  • Flight: Escaping danger by removing oneself from the situation.
  • Freeze: Becoming immobile or unable to act toward an immediate threat.
  • Fawn: Trying to either appease or please the threat to avoid conflict or harm.

Given Collins’ ongoing interest in raising awareness of mental health issues and trauma, this topic applies to Sunrise quite well. As Haymitch admits himself, he personally froze during training when they had an opportunity to attack the Peacekeepers, and he apparently froze here again during the Gamemaker encounter (though one could argue that Maysilee and Maritte clearly didn’t need his help). Sure, an “implicit” fear of the powerful Capitol may have contributed to both instances. But then, the kinder version of Maysilee also gave him credit for a number of courageous acts, including stealing the chariot during the ill-fated tribute parade, carrying Louella’s body up to President Snow, and plenty of other instances that Maysilee has yet to learn about (let’s not forget him drinking the milk in Plutarch’s mansion, or keeping Lou Lou’s body away from the hovercraft). And Haymitch does choose to fight in at least two violent scenes: one when he kills two Careers in self defense just prior to Panache’s appearance, and later when he willingly takes on Silka in the arena finale. He could have frozen or flown instead. He might have even demonstrated a version of “fawning,” when trying to talk Panache down from attacking him (though this may have just been smart strategy). What explains these contrasting reactions in different situations?

It could be argued that Haymitch demonstrates all four responses depending on the situation, as reviewed above. In certain cases like the Gamemaker incident, he simply freezes with inaction. This becomes clear from Maysilee’s interpretation later when she yells at him for apparently not having her back. Another even more pertinent question might be why both Maysilee and Maritte chose to attack the Gamemakers in the first place. They were clearly defenseless and scared out of their wits (the third of whom instantly took the “flight” option and jumped to her death). Even Silka questions this behavior, correctly stating they would be punished for it (by not being allowed to win). Haymitch had also frozen with indecision in the District 12 square during the reaping. There are consequently plenty of behaviors here to interpret, as the Gamemakers and tributes alike respond in a variety of unpredictable ways in the face of an imminent threat.

Aside from trying to placate Panache, one could not likely accuse Haymitch of fawning, either. At no time does he seek to please President Snow or his minions. In contrast, the master of fawning behavior seems to be Plutarch, and Haymitch despises him for it. According to the article cited above, “fawning helps avoid conflict and keeps important relationships intact — even if those relationships aren’t healthy.” The act of fawning involves some variation of appeasement or submission to avoid harm, which Plutarch arguably does when kissing up to President Snow in his mansion or falsely reassuring Drusilla about her own appearances and behaviors.

Just as Maysilee decides to do, we should probably give Haymitch some leeway on his various responses to continuous traumatic situations, and as a sixteen-year-old no less. More important, he should certainly give himself a break as well (easier said than done, of course). Between these ingrained, evolutionary human responses and Hume’s question of implicit submission, Haymitch can’t catch a break. He and all of his counterparts have enough on their plates just to stay alive while retaining some semblance of personal dignity. It further reinforces perhaps the biggest lesson of Sunrise, that the science of human psychology is in itself a complex arena to venture into. A big round of thanks goes to Suzanne Collins for helping bring more of this to light — not to fawn or anything.

Toad Licking is a (Deathly) Thing: A Psychedelic Throwback to the 1970s.

Posted on July 25, 2025 by

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WARNING: Spoilers Ahead for Sunrise on the Reaping (though no plot revelations)

Perhaps no other character in Sunrise has raised more eyebrows in disgust than the repulsive Magno Stift. Making his shocking entrance as District 12’s stylist, Haymitch describes his sun-leathered skin tattooed with a snakeskin pattern, sandals laced all the way to his pelvis, and tiny garter snakes dangling from his ears (71). In this way we get the sense that one of Collins’ crazy characters has finally managed to out-Capitol the Capitol. Even the wearing of live reptiles has been banned, Drusilla tells us, though Magno just brushes this off. Then later, it gets worse. When Prosperina seeks him out at his apartment to prepare for the tribute interviews, she finds him “reeling around” and “puking all over the place” while talking like a crazy person (168). Upon her return, a horrified Prosperina considers that the “toad venom rumors might be true!” Drusilla snaps back with, “Rumors? That man’s been licking toads since the war. I can’t believe that even he would risk it during the Games.” Then Wyatt asks the obvious question: “Why would he lick toads?” Drusilla rants that it’s because Magno is a “reptilian freak” and will do anything to take her down. But then it’s Vitus who offers the closest thing to the truth: “They say some kinds make you hallucinate or something. If they don’t kill you… Some people do it for fun, but ugh, nasty.” (169)

After months of purposely skimming over the toad-licking narrative for more inviting topics — any topic, really — curiosity got the better of me. An initial search through the great Oracle, Google, quickly led to web sites focused on psychedelic drug use, addiction, and pleas to not try this at home (or anywhere). That Collins has imbued numerous characters with various mental and physical health challenges is nothing new. This is typically her subtle way of trying to raise awareness to such debilitating diseases and addictions, and to encourage more understanding and empathy for those inflicted by them. Front and center is PTSD, experienced by a wide range of characters — not the least Haymitch — within the original series and beyond. For his part, Dean Highbottom becomes addicted to morphling in Songbirds and Snakes. A “high bottom alcoholic” is one who pretends to live a normal life while doing their best to hide their affliction. And of course, Katniss’ mother, Asterid, suffers from depression, as does Maysilee’s twin sister.

And now we have toad licking, admittedly one of Collins’ more obscure human behaviors that we might presume she just somehow made up. This is not the first time I’ve whispered to myself, Just where does she come up with this stuff? As it turns out, however, Vitus was correct, at least in a nutshell, and toad licking has perhaps the most bizarre backstory of all.

For those like me who were not aware of this behavior prior to reading Sunrise, toad licking is the “unusual and deliberate practice of licking secretions of certain species of toads to get high” (Scottsdalerecovery.com). Before jumping into the nearest smelly pond to partake, however, please read on. It’s not just any toad that provides a psychedelic experience. In the United States, one must turn to the Southwest to find the 7-inch long, leathery Sonoran Desert toad (also known as the Colorado River toad), which secretes bufotenine, basically a natural version of tryptamine also found in some mushrooms and other plants. Other so-called Bufo toads include the Giant marine toad and cane toad. They all have poison glands on their backs and behind their eyes that secrete toxic fluids as a natural defense mechanism. This can prove quite deadly to predators, in the least causing severe irritation, pain, and tissue damage. There are numerous reports of pet dogs falling victim to the toad-licking temptation, and plenty of warnings to pet owners online.

While human toad-lickers have experienced sensations including euphoria, distortion of space and time, and hallucinations to get high, medical-oriented websites caution that the ingesting or smoking of toad venom can include but are not limited to “nausea, vomiting, seizures, respiratory issues, harmful impaired behaviors, blood vessel constriction, anxiety, panic, amnesia, death” (Scottsdalerecovery.com). Likewise, the Addiction Center explains that “Licking toads in the Bufonidae family has been a practice to experience a psychedelic trip.” The practice is particularly dangerous, however, “and may cause muscle weakness, rapid heart rate, and vomiting. The most commonly exploited species is the Sonoran Desert (or Colorado River) toad, found in Mexico and further north in Colorado, California, New Mexico, and Arizona. Either coincidentally or not, Panem’s Capitol is likely found in the extreme northern part of this range, somewhere west of the Colorado Front Range. Is our beloved Magno slurping on bufotenine from the Sonoran Desert toad?

Not only is toad-licking harmful to humans and animals, but the toads themselves don’t fare too well, either. The practice is actually outlawed in many other countries because of its human risks and harm to natural ecosystems. Handling the toads themselves can result in their deaths, along with the desecration of entire toad populations and their fragile environments. The Colorado River toad even faces extinction now in California because of over-harvesting by humans. And now even the National Park Service has added “tongue-contact” with the Sonoran Desert toad into its ongoing warnings, as cited by a 2022 NPR article. “As we say with most things you come across in a national park, whether it be a banana slug, unfamiliar mushroom, or a large toad with glowing eyes in the dead of night, please refrain from licking,” the agency added to its Facebook site. The article continues to explain how the “toad’s toxic secretions contain a powerful hallucinogenic known as 5-MeO-DMT,” which means that collectors have been over-extracting the toads for drug use and have threatened the species in at least New Mexico as well as California.

For some unfathomable reason, Suzanne Collins is not only familiar with toad licking and its human and environmental risks, but she has decided to embed the topic into one of her more despicable characters. This is likely yet another reference to the 1970s when psychedelic drugs and burnt-orange interiors were trendy (see this post, Sunrise on the 70s). For Magno Stift, toad-licking is not an isolated practice, but more so an indicator of his larger identity as a reptile-phile (my word). His delirious side-effects and vomiting conform well to the documented risks of toad licking and the types of hallucinatory influences we are warned about. In conclusion, allow Magno to set the example for all of us. Should you ever be tempted by these leathery, olive-skinned, psychedelic beauties in the desert Southwest, just say no!

Feature image source: Animalia: Colorado River Toad

Inside the Dome: Plutarch, Haymitch, and Renaissance Architecture in District 11

Posted on June 24, 2025 by

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WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD for Sunrise on the Reaping and (for newcomers), the trilogy!

One seemingly overlooked curiosity in Collins’ saga is how much we learn about the District 11 Justice Building, both inside and out. And now in Sunrise, Plutarch becomes an essential part of this ongoing story. Much of our knowledge was first revealed in Catching Fire with Katniss’ detailed descriptions of this local seat of Capitol authority. Even Effie was impressed with the place, claiming she is “something of an expert in architectural design” (CF 69). During the Victory Tour she decides to have a look around the place because “district ruins were going to be all the rage this year.” She is then unceremoniously escorted out by two rude peacekeepers. After telling her awful story, Katniss silently believes the incident was due to the fact that she, Peeta, and Haymitch went missing inside for some time earlier. Let’s discuss their own risky adventure inside the dome and the big, big, big mystery that Plutarch finally solves for us. Then we’ll return to the architectural details later.

Following their genuine if ill-fated speeches in District 11, Katniss and Peeta are whisked inside the Justice Building by Haymitch. Though not exactly a “hot topic” on Hunger Games fan sites, a curious question has remained unanswered since the release of the second novel — that is, just how did Haymitch know so much about the building’s interior? Katniss ponders this very question as she describes their hike into the dome:

As far as I know, Haymitch has only been here once, when he was on his Victory Tour decades ago. But he must have a remarkable memory or reliable instincts, because he leads us up through a maze of twisting staircases and increasingly narrow halls. At times he has to stop and force a door. By the protesting squeak of the hinges you can tell it’s been a long time since it was opened. Eventually we climb a ladder to a trapdoor. When Haymitch pushes it aside, we find ourselves in the dome of the Justice Building. It’s a huge place filled with broken furniture, piles of books and ledgers, and rusty weapons … Haymitch kicks the trapdoor shut and turns on us.

Katniss Everdeen (CF 64)

This is yet another case that begs the question of whether Suzanne Collins had at least some notion that she would eventually fill in this backstory. Probably a lot of us brushed off this loose end by thinking as Katniss did, that Haymitch had been here during his own Victory Tour, and that’s that. But she also leaves the door open (pun intended) by wondering aloud in her narrative just how he knows the place so well. This is Collins’ classic approach to get us thinking, through one of her character’s internal dialogues. It would not be an incredible surprise to discover that Collins purposely left this hole in Haymitch’s backstory untold so that she might return to it someday (as she has now thankfully done). She admitted as much in her exclusive interview in Sunrise (Barnes & Noble edition), saying that Haymitch’s raising geese in Mockingjay was “not random.” If she had at least planned one day to fill in that connection, she could have very easily considered a future Justice Building backstory as well.

It turns out that 25 years before Katniss, Haymitch did indeed learn about the Justice Building’s intricate floorplan. In contrast to Katniss’ elaborate description of her path to the dome, however, Haymitch suffices to say that Plutarch “spirits” him up multiple stairways and into the attic. (At this point I was thinking, Ah ha, here it is!) Plutarch then informs him that the attic is the only place that isn’t bugged (SOTR, Ch 27). And just as Haymitch led a difficult conversation with Katniss and Peeta in the dome (i.e. attic) 25 years later, here he is on the flip side of such a conversation with Plutarch Heavensbee, of all people. And who would have further guessed that Plutarch would be trying to recruit him for his greater cause right there in the same place? And the layer of dust seems just as thick as it would be for Katniss and Peeta, among other commonalities. For creative backstories, this one certainly takes the cake. As Lucky Flickerman says to Dr. Gaul in Ballad, Suzanne Collins can certainly “take . . . a . . . bow!”

From the U.S. Capitol Building to the Justice Building

Whether Effie was really an architectural expert or not — her prep team wasn’t so sure — the District 11 Justice Building is, strangely, one of the more fascinating architectural pieces in the whole saga. As is often the case, even the widely acclaimed film, Catching Fire, did not do it “justice.” The exterior used in the film (pictured here) may have been appropriately fascist, pointing to the sterile modernism of the Soviet Block. But there is little of accuracy here that Katniss describes from canon.

Through the eyes of Katniss, she is nearly awestruck with the “huge marble structure” that must have been at one time a “thing of beauty.” She further describes its derelict condition, its facade in ruins with ivy taking over (CF 56). She then goes on to describe “what Effie calls the verandah (correct!), “the tiled expanse between the front doors and the stairs that’s shaded by a roof supported by columns.” While Collins could very well have been trying to paint an image of a traditional, pre-bellum (pre-Civil War) plantation house in the South, the architecture for such structures was inspired heavily by earlier Renaissance-era European styles from roughly the 15th and 16th centuries. In brief for purposes here, the prominence of earlier Greek temples and columns (think the Parthenon in Athens) became a fixture of Renaissance and neoclassical architectural designs, which then spread gradually into North America.

Another unique architectural form often adorned such public and religious structures during the Renaissance — that of the rounded central dome. The first Renaissance dome was ingeniously designed by Filippo Brunelleschi on the cathedral in Florence, Italy during the 1300s, after which his engineering and style spread across Europe and, eventually, into the British Colonies and United States. The US Capitol Building is now the most famous — and the most copied — of late-Renaissance domes in America. Many smaller-scale state capitol buildings have been inspired by the US Capitol, such as the California State Capitol in Sacramento (pictured above). Notice the glorious temple-front entrance, Greek columns, and verandah underneath, all set beneath the Renaissance-styled dome. Though smaller and greatly simplified, we can imagine the actual District 11 Justice Building as looking something like this.

Thanks to Katniss, we also discover that the Justice Building’s interior is also replete with Renaissance-style design elements. These include a “magnificent curved marble staircase,” which takes the three of them to an aging yet elegant room upstairs. The walls and perhaps ceiling are adorned with imagery of fruit, flowers, and “fat children with wings” (those would be cherubs) looking down from all angles (CF 64). The ceilings are a neck-breaking twenty feet high, as one would find within a palace of Renaissance-era nobility. Haymitch’s mind must have been more on his “respite and nepenthe” than on architectural flourishes during his first visit…

Consequently, the notion of placing domes atop local government buildings in the United States is owed directly to their association with America’s democratic ideal. The dome as a distinct element of American institutional architecture ultimately spread into the states and into many county courthouses and city halls. Perhaps this is why Collins has Plutarch openly recruiting Haymitch in this grand place, symbolically thinking of a future revolution to restore their own democratic ideals.

Feature Image: California State Capitol Building, Sacramento, CA (www.encirclephotos.com)

Two Generations of Donners: The Sweetshop, Marshmallows, Mayor’s House, Piano, Merrilee’s Illness, Canaries, and the Mockingjay Pin (Whew!)

Posted on June 16, 2025 by

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WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD for Sunrise on the Reaping, and the Trilogy!

Haymitch first introduces us to the Donners’ sweetshop when he buys a “little white paper bag of multicolored gumdrops — Lenore Dove’s favorite,” to share with her later (16-17). The purpose of this sentence is twofold: first, to reintroduce us to the Donner family, and second as a sinister foreshadowing of Lenore Dove’s later fate. Lenore Dove claims she can detect the unique taste of each “rainbow” gumdrop, though Haymitch is convinced they all taste the same. This latter statement likely foreshadows a later discussion between Maysilee and Haymitch about the stale marshmallows her parents sell, indicating their habit of deceiving or short-changing their customers. Maysilee is not particularly proud of this fact, and she even ties it in with the ongoing conversation around propaganda. Quite humorously, the marshmallow thread surfaces at least two other times, including when Haymitch admits that he has “fallen for the ‘chewy marshmallow’ scam more than once” (47). And discerning fans have not overlooked the “rainbow” gumdrops, providing a subtle callback to Lucy Gray’s iconic rainbow dress and related imagery in Ballad. This has led to unending conversation in the fandom about just who is Lenore Dove’s mother (Hint: try Maude Ivory, as argued in this post. Collins seems to point us in that direction herself).

Above: A “Maysilee Cake” for Haymitch’s Birthday. What symbols can you find from Sunrise? (Final Butler FYS Class Celebration, April 2025.)

It turns out the sweetshop survives into Katniss’ storyline, but barely. When describing the Capitol for the first time, Katniss says, “All the colors seem artificial, the pinks too deep, the greens too bright, the yellows painful to the eyes, like the flat round disks of hard candy we can never afford to buy at the tiny sweet shop in District 12″ (THG 59). The topic emerges one more time much later in Catching Fire, just before Katniss learns she will be going back into the arena for the 75th Games. She and her family are watching the Capitol’s broadcast to introduce the Quarter Quell, and Katniss’ mother (Asterid) shares a memory, saying, “I had a friend who went that year.” She continues, “Maysilee Donner. Her parents owned the sweet shop. They gave me her songbird after. A canary” (CF 172).

This is our first introduction to Maysilee Donner, and the first time Katniss and Prim have heard about her as well. The big news for purposes here is that Asterid inherited Maysilee’s canary from the twins’ parents. One might wonder why Merrilee didn’t keep the bird, though Collins doesn’t provide any obvious reason. Perhaps the Donners were too distraught (see section about Merrilee below), and Asterid had probably been the twins’ closest friend. The canary reference is also worth noting. Later in Catching Fire, Beetee tells his fellow tributes that Wiress is intuitive and can sense things before anyone else, like a canary in a coal mine. Being from Twelve, Katniss explains to Finnick and Johanna how a canary is deployed for warning miners about bad air when the bird stops singing. This is one of many historical references to coal mining throughout the saga (another topic).

And now, we discover a fun callback to the canary in Sunrise! True to Asterid’s story in Catching Fire, Maysilee tells her peers at the tribute apartment that she had a pet canary named Lou Lou. She recommends using this name to identify “fake Louella,” and Haymitch and the others end up agreeing. And this is how Lou Lou gets her name, from Maysilee’s songbird (SOTR 139). Also worth a chuckle is Haymitch’s comment that Lenore Dove was “infuriated” that anyone would cage a songbird. This certainly didn’t help diffuse the animosity she and Maysilee had felt for one another.

Back to the sweetshop, the Donners are no longer associated with the business by the time of the trilogy (and “sweet shop” is now one word in Sunrise…). As noted above, Asterid had mentioned Maysilee’s parents in the past tense, and Katniss mentions nothing of the current owners. Merrilee has long since married Mayor Undersee and moved into the mayor’s house. Nor do we know the eventual fate of the twins’ parents, Mr. and Mrs. Donner. And as for Maysilee, well, she wasn’t escaping the arena alive to run the shop herself — whether she wanted to or not (she emphatically did not). It’s cool that Collins took her original little mention of the “sweet shop” and created a whole backstory about the Donner family.

A Piano at the Mayor’s House

This brings us to the mayor’s house, which is chocked full of lore and connections throughout the trilogy and both prequels. We return to this storied location rather promptly in Sunrise, though it remains questionable whether it is the same physical house. As Haymitch is introducing us more to Lenore Dove’s background, we learn that she is something of a standout on the piano. After all, this is her Covey instrument, with ivory keys and all. There’s a lot of meaning here as well. First, Haymitch mentions that the “only real piano in District 12” is found at the mayor’s house. Lenore Dove and her uncles had worked out a deal with the mayor that allowed her to practice occasionally, in return for playing it during various hosted events there (SOTR 8-9). This strategically sets up Maysilee’s secret about Lenore Dove and her orange fingernails (see related post on this topic). The whole backstory to her secret plays out right there at the mayor’s house, during one of Lenore Dove’s performances.

Collins drops further hints about the succession of mayors as well. Haymitch informs us in passing that Mayor Allister presides over the 50th Reaping. He says, “The mayor tries for a neutral tone, but her voice leaks disapproval in a way that guarantees she’ll be replaced soon” (SOTR 20). The gender pronoun is also well placed, indicating that — at least occasionally in District 12 — there is some level of gender equity in leadership roles as there is elsewhere in Panem. More notable is Haymitch’s comment about the mayor’s distaste for the Games, and that she might not be around much longer because of it. Mayor Allister does not seem to be connected by family to the Donners (though it’s possible I’m missing more subtle details), and perhaps Collins’ narrative here indicates an opening for this to eventually happen with a new mayor. I had personally wondered with the release of Sunrise whether we would learn more about a younger Mayor Undersee, likely then a similar age to Maysilee and friends. Alas, we do not. But it does set up the opportunity for the future mayor to meet and marry Merrilee Donner and to eventually bring Madge into the world.

And it should be noted that Mayor Undersee seems like a decent guy himself, perhaps with a relatively kind heart like that of Mayor Allister. Katniss infers in the first book that Mayor Undersee deserves credit for reducing the heavy hand of the Capitol in District 12. When speaking of how badly she and Gale could have been whipped or worse for hunting, she tells us that “our mayor, Madge’s father, doesn’t seem to have much taste for such events” (THG 203). This likely points to why President Snow did not ultimately spare Mayor Undersee or his family from the firebombing of Twelve, as he was certainly not improving the lax enforcement. Katniss confirms there was no sign of the family upon her return to Twelve after the war.

A more uplifting topic involves that lone piano in District 12. It is no accident that Haymitch (i.e. Collins) pulls this into Lenore Dove’s story in Sunrise. Beyond the mayor’s house, “she makes do with the instrument she is playing now, which she calls her tune box” (SOTR 8-9). Haymitch describes it earlier as an “ancient piano accordion,” which in all probability is handed down from its former owner in Ballad, Billy Taupe (yes, wow!). Where else would she acquire such a thing? Given that Lenore Dove’s character and dress habits reflect a blending of her former Covey relatives, this is likely yet another connection that Collins teases us with.

While the accordion apparently goes missing by Katniss’ time, the mayor’s piano does not. In fact, it takes center stage once again at the mayor’s house for a second generation. Returning to the trilogy, it turns out that Madge had played the piano as well, right there in her own home! What other lone piano could possibly exist? Knowing Collins as we do (or think we do), this has to be the very same piano handed down from Mayor Allister’s time. The piano serves as a sort of stage prop for an insightful conversation between Madge and Katniss in Catching Fire. When Katniss visits Madge at her home for the Victory Tour dinner on the eve of the Harvest Festival (how or why the Harvest Festival even exists remains a curiosity), she informs us that Madge has been trying to teach her the piano, though Katniss prefers mostly to listen to her play. In turn — perhaps more amusingly — Katniss has been taking Madge to the woods to learn how to shoot (CF 87). The main point here, however, consists of the clever interconnectedness between Sunrise and the trilogy between Madge, Lenore Dove, Maysilee, the mayor’s house, and that lone piano in District 12.

Merrilee Donner, Then and Now (Sunrise and Trilogy)

It’s during that same conversation between Katniss and Madge that we gain an important piece of information about Madge’s mother, Merrilee, as we know her now. Madge says that her parents aren’t around much, due to her father’s mayoral obligations and her mother’s recurring illness. Katniss explains to us that Madge’s mother “gets fierce headaches” that keep her confined to bed for days. On just such a day during Katniss’ recent visit, they couldn’t play the piano because “the sound caused her mother pain” (CF 87). This is a curious choice of words, as we are meant to assume the piano is making Merrilee’s headaches worse. But the “pain” could be interpreted as mental anguish or triggering memories from her youth when Maysilee was abducted for the Games. Merilee had apparently depended upon her twin sister quite a bit. Haymitch tells us as much in Sunrise, saying that “Merrilee isn’t too bad, except she tends to go along with everything Maysilee does” (SOTR 41).

Merrilee’s chronic illness and related trauma were actually foreshadowed in Sunrise. In a touching moment during the 50th Games, Maysilee asks Haymitch a heart-wrenching question about whether Merrilee will still be a twin after she dies in the arena. Haymitch reinforces that she will always be a twin, adding that he also had twin sisters before they died prematurely just after birth. He had even looked to the Donner twins out of curiosity about what it might have been like to have twins for sisters. Maysilee then considers what Merrilee’s life will be like back in Twelve without her. She confirms the foreshadowing by simply stating, “This is going to be hard on her” (SOTR 283). Haymitch could foresee a troublesome outcome as well. As a reflective response to Maysilee, he tells us:

After the Games comes the fallout from the Games. Spreading out like ripples in a pond when you toss in a rock. Concentric circles of damage, washing over the dead tributes’ families, their friends, their neighbors, to the ends of the districts.

Haymitch Abernathy (283)

Soon thereafter, these “ripples in the pond” wash over the surviving twin, Merrilee. Based on Madge’s own comments 25 years later, a serious part of Merrilee’s heart and identity had been lost with Maysilee’s murder. While it is satisfying to see that Merrilee would go on to have a loving family of her own, she was clearly never the same person after the 50th Games.

Even with the privilege afforded to the mayor’s family, effective treatment for Merrilee’s own mental illness and associated headaches was hit or miss. She does have access to the Capitol’s pain killer called morphling, which becomes apparent when Katniss’ mother is trying to stabilize Gale after the whipping. Everyone is surprised when Madge appears at the door in the middle of a blinding snowstorm. She is humorously described as a “snow-caked figure” delivering a package to Katniss, who continues to narrate:

She holds out a small, damp cardboard box to me. “Use these for your friend,” she says. I take off the lid of the box, revealing half a dozen vials of clear liquid. “They’re my mother’s. She said I could take them. Use them, please.” She runs back into the storm before we can stop her. “Crazy girl,” Haymitch mutters as we follow my mother into the kitchen.

(Katniss Everdeen, CF 115-116)

Upon questioning, Katniss’ mother (Asterid) demonstrates the purpose of morphling as she injects it into Gale. Of course, this is Collins’ own twist on morphine. More to the point, not only is Madge taking another risk by sneaking past authorities (as she did to join Katniss in the woods), she is further demonstrating her family’s access to important medications that many in Twelve do not enjoy. This is only one instance of Collins’ ongoing commentary on extreme health-care inequities within our own society. That said, even the privilege of the mayor’s family is limited. When Katniss suggests to Madge that they take her mother to the Capitol to “fix her up” (smile), Madge explains this is not possible without a special Capitol invite (CF 87).

The Mockingjay Metaphor and a Pin for Katniss

Beyond a doubt the most significant link between Madge and Maysilee is the now-famous mockingjay pin. Much like Lucretius “Lucky” Flickerman in Ballad, this little gold token needs no introduction. Essentially Katniss becomes an unwitting participant in the generational saga of the Donner family. For quite some time she treats the gold pin with indifference — either forgetting about it, questioning it, or trying to give it away — first to Rue, then back to Madge (both of them refuse, of course). Cinna keeps returning it to her right up until his death. It seems that Katniss had showed little more interest in the pin than had Maysilee before her. Katniss was simply dumbfounded when Madge appeared to say goodbye after the reaping. When Madge asks her to wear the pin in the arena as her token, Katniss thinks, “Wearing a token from my district is about the last thing on my mind” (HG 38). But Madge persists, leaning in to fix it onto Katniss’ dress. Then she makes Katniss promise to wear it, leaving her clearly befuddled. Madge follows this with a kiss on the cheek, leading Katniss to think, “maybe Madge really has been my friend all along.” Little did Katniss know just how meaningful that pin was to the Donner family, going back several generations. It is difficult not to believe that Collins had a plan for continuing this story all along…

THE MOCKINGJAY AS METAPHOR: Later in Catching Fire, Katniss and Madge become closer friends, even visiting each other’s homes (Madge likes Katniss’ home better). Katniss admits to the awkward process of learning how to be friends in the first place. Both of them had been content to be alone at school until they started eating lunch together. Then during the Victory Tour dinner at the mayor’s house, Katniss finally asks Madge about the mockingjay pin. The only clue from Madge — who didn’t know much herself — was telling Katniss that it belonged to her aunt, and that she thinks “it’s been in the family a long time” (CF 91). How true! It is during this same conversation when Collins reveals a significant metaphor between Katniss and the mockingjay bird. After debating with Madge whether mockingjays were natural songbirds or not, Katniss tells us, “A mockingbird is just a songbird. A mockingjay is a creature the Capitol never intended to exist… They hadn’t anticipated its will to live” (CF 92).

In this way, the mockingjay bird and its symbolic pin serve as a metaphor for Katniss’ own life and identity. Neither mockingjays nor Katniss were supposed to exist, and the Capitol certainly did not anticipate either of their respective wills to live. Collins had confirmed this metaphorical interpretation during a past interview for School Library Journal in 2010, prior to releasing her third novel, Mockingjay. She explains, “Katniss is something like a mockingjay in and of herself. She is a girl who should never have existed. And the reason she does exist is that she comes from District 12, which is sort of the joke of the 12 districts of Panem.” She adds later, “So in that way, too, Katniss is the mockingjay. She is the thing that should never have been created, that the Capitol never intended to happen.” It so happens, then, that Madge’s pin — descended down from Tam Amber to Maysilee’s grandmother, father, and herself — becomes the fundamental symbol of Katniss’ own will to survive in Twelve, and later still, the unifying symbol of rebellion that brings down the Capitol. (See this post for a Mockingjay Pin Family Tree which traces its path through District 12.)

The big, big, big question thus remains to this day (for many of us), as to just why did the very first Hunger Games film not include such a vital yet overlooked character as Madge? Instead we have Katniss (Jennifer Lawrence) being gifted the pin at the Hob by someone many presume to be Greasy Sae (but likely isn’t, since she’s not selling soup or other food). Though certainly done to shorten the film’s run time and cast of characters, this shift in the storyline greatly distorted the pin’s origin story and the Katniss-Madge relationship. Of course, hindsight is 20/20 as they say, and screenwriters likely had not yet envisioned two prequels emerging a decade later. At least now we can trace the pin all the way back to the Covey’s Tam Amber, though further mysteries remain about Maysilee’s grandmother and how she acquired the pin herself. Perhaps Collins is saving this loose end for a future third prequel? (See this post about more loose ends in Sunrise.)

The origin story of the famed mockingjay pin is delivered to us gradually in Part 1 of Sunrise. Keeping an eye out for any hint of the pin’s backstory, I immediately smiled upon reading the following passage:

Besides playing a crazy good mandolin, Tam Amber’s the best hand forger in District 12. He’s the go-to blacksmith for new gadgets or broken parts for old machines. Burdock has a dozen of his arrow tips that he treats like gold, and some of the richer folks in town have jewelry he made from actual gold or silver, melted down from heirlooms and refashioned.

Haymitch abernathy (SOTR 11-12)

Not only do we learn of Tam Amber’s continued existence and his later career choice, the fact that richer folks have some of his jewelry made from gold was enough to raise eyebrows. He has to be the designer of the mockingjay pin, I mused upon the first read. Later we learn more of the backstory, along with a subtle statement about Maysilee’s grandmother that is easy to overlook (I admittedly did just that upon the first read). When Maysilee asks to see Haymitch’s flint striker on the train because she collects jewelry, Haymitch finally tells us the story:

You don’t hear that much in District 12, but Mr. Donner spoils his girls rotten. Lenore Dove told me that, on their thirteenth birthday, he gave them pure gold pins that had belonged to his mother. They’d been fashioned by Tam Amber over thirty years ago. I never saw them, but Merrilee’s featured a hummingbird and Maysilee’s a mockingjay, birds being one of the Covey’s great loves. Apparently, Merrilee wore hers all of five minutes before she lost it down a well. Maysilee threw a fit over hers, saying a mockingjay was an ugly old thing and why couldn’t Tam Amber melt it down and make her something pretty like a butterfly? When he declined, she stuffed the pin in the back of a drawer and never wore it once.

Haymitch Abernathy (SOTR 54-55)

And thus we discover that Madge’s pretty gold pin in The Hunger Games was born three generations earlier by the Covey’s own Tam Amber, along with the hummingbird pin for Merrilee. The statement above is easy to overlook because Haymitch says somewhat cryptically that the pins had first belonged to Mr. Donner’s mother. Maysilee then buries it in a drawer before being reaped for the Games. She does agree to give the pin a second look, due to Haymitch’s prodding later — if she makes it out of the arena. But ultimately we do not yet find out how the pin is transferred from Maysilee’s drawer to Madge decades later. Whether Merrilee or Mayor Undersee eventually discover it and give it to Madge as a memento remains a mystery (and perhaps Collins is content to leave it that way). At least now we have a pretty clear path for the Mockingjay pin, from its creator, Tam Amber to Katniss (see this District 12 and Mockingjay Pin Family Tree).

What remains to be seen is the role of the Donner twins’ grandmother in all of this, as she could have been gifted the pins from Tam Amber if they were somehow related. Or, perhaps she purchased them as yet another of his customers from the Merchant Class. What is clear is that Maysilee’s grandmother was an influential part of her life, and that she lived and worked at the Donners’ sweetshop (having snuck candy to Haymitch on occasion). There is still much to learn about her role in the family and — as numerous fans are now considering — a possible family connection between Maysilee and the Covey (see this post for more on this notion).

Still wondering about that strawberry ice cream conveniently ignored above? Check out this post which separates out this conversation as its own topic.

Happy Hunger Games!

Welcome to a virtual place to share perspectives on the full set of Hunger Games books and films, including the Ballad prequel and Sunrise on the Reaping. Future posts may include guest authors, student contributors, and my own topics of interest. Comments on posts are welcome and are reviewed prior to approval.

Meet the Author
Watch Episode 56 of Into The Arena (Feb, 2023), with Tom Paradis chatting about his university class and recent book, A Place Called District 12: Appalachian Geography and Music in the Hunger Games (and Ballad).
This site inspired by a first-year seminar on the Hunger Games at Butler University.
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