Warning: Spoilers Ahead for Sunrise on the Reaping
As early as page 5 in Sunrise, we learn that Collins seems to maintain some kind of fascination with geese. Haymitch’s “girl,” Lenore Dove, treats about a dozen of them (lots of “dozens” show up in this novel) as pets, leading them around the famed Meadow and thereabouts. They only trust Lenore Dove, as they tend to hiss at Haymitch much like Prim’s cat, Buttercup, who hissed at Katniss — that is, until she fed him. In this case the parallel continues as Haymitch regularly brings some cracked corn from Hattie to appease Lenore Dove’s waddling friends. Of course, this new novel finally explains the bizarre reference to Haymitch raising geese in the Epilogue of Mockingjay. He is remembering his one true love who was stolen from his life much too soon.
Chapter one has barely opened when Collins offers her first song of the novel, which goes unnamed within the narrative. Haymitch arrives at the Meadow to find Lenore Dove “serenading a dozen geese grazing on the grass, her voice as soft and haunting as moonlight” (8). The first verse of the poem-turned-ballad reads:
With this first verse alone we can see clearly where Collins is headed. As Lenore Dove sings additional verses in between Haymitch’s reflections on family relationships, he tells us that this is “not a song her uncles let her play at the mayor’s house,” or even when the three of them perform around District 12 (9). “Too rebellious,” he explains bluntly, and we can see why. Perhaps the clearest reference with this first verse is its symbolism with the oppressive Capitol which continues to punish the districts for a war ended long ago. The verse implies — quite accurately — that the Capitol maintains the authority to strip all rights and humanity away from its district subjects, while they are the ones who are punished for breaking the Capitol’s draconian rules. What we have here, it turns out, is another protest song, the likes of which we saw with “The Hanging Tree,” featured in both the original series and more recently in Ballad. In one sense, Lenore Dove’s protest song is even more direct than that of Lucy Gray. The last two lines of this one say prophetically, “And geese will still a common lack / Till they go and steal it back.”
It turns out this is not one of Collins’ original poems or songs, but a well-placed throwback to teach us some relevant history once again. She explains in the book’s Acknowledgements that “The Goose and the Common was written by an unknown author in the 17th or 18th century.” This is all she says about it, though this single sentence provides plenty of clues to further chase down its backstory.
Funny thing, those not from New England (or old England for that matter) may be puzzled over the strange use of the word “common” in both the poem and its title. Is “common” an adjective or a noun? Those with some knowledge of colonial town settlement in New England, from Maine to Connecticut and Rhode Island, will likely pick up this reference right away. Town settlements that followed the lead of the Massachusetts Bay Colony often included a shared public space at or near the center of the village. Known simply as a “common,” this local quirk of regional geography was designed into their otherwise medieval-era town plans as a place on which all farmers could share for the grazing of their cattle or for related uses. The most famous of these, of course, is Boston Common, now one of the city’s cherished public parks. Lenore Dove is nice enough to explain this to our protagonist, once telling him that “the common was land anyone could use.” It is more than fitting that she grazes her geese in the Meadow which, for purposes of this novel, is now re-interpreted as a District 12 public space in the form of an English-style common. And true to the poem, the local Peacekeepers occasionally chase off her geese for no apparent reason other than that they could do so.
By the end of the colonial era, most commons in New England towns were gradually transitioned to public parks, sometimes now referred to bucolically as the “town green” with picturesque gazebos and bandstands and all. Their original agricultural intent was rendered obsolete when New Englanders rebelled en masse — not from an oppressive imperialist nation, but rather from the unforgiving rocky soil that prevented decent farming. Many farm families picked up and moved westward into today’s upper Midwest during the 19th century, not long after that region’s indigenous peoples had been driven off. But I digress…
Despite the excitement some readers like myself enjoyed when finding this New England tidbit in Collins’ novel (I myself am from a colonial-era town in CT), the story behind this opening poem can be traced even further back to England itself. “The Goose and the Common” is largely associated with the English enclosure movement, which involved the intentional closing off of public spaces to convert them into private property. As Oleg Komlik (2018, citing Boyle 2003) writes in the article linked above, “Like most of the criticisms of the enclosure movement, the poem depicts a world of rapacious, state-aided privatization, a conversion into private property of something that had formerly been common property or, perhaps, had been outside of the property system altogether.”
Collins therefore creatively appropriates the poem for her own use as a blatant metaphor for the Capitol’s treatment of the districts, at the same time cleverly tying in this historical protest movement to her novel’s theme of Lenore Dove’s geese. We further learn that even Haymitch is concerned about his girlfriend’s rebellious ways. When mentioning how the Peacekeepers chase her and the geese out of the Meadow for no apparent reason, Lenore Dove tells Haymitch “that’s just a teaspoon of trouble in a river of wrong” (10). He adds, “She worries me, and I’m an Abernathy.” He explains elsewhere that the Abernathys were notorious for their rebellious ways. This foreshadowing sets up Lenore Dove’s character as an outward protester herself against the “river of wrong” that the Capitol imposes on the districts. The rest of this latest prequel continues to feature Haymitch’s own character’s journey from “implicit submission” to “rascally rebel” (my words). He is encouraged in no small part by the courageous Lenore Dove, determined as she is to see that one day the sun will no longer rise on the reaping.

Image Sources: Conspiracy-of-kindness.com (poem graphic above), visitingnewengland.com (feature image of Hopkinton town common, starting place of the Boston Marathon)
WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD (and above) For Sunrise on the Reaping
With the release of Sunrise in March 2025, those of us hoping to fill in some gaps to Katniss’ family tree were treated to incredible new information. At the same time, it is arguably becoming more of a challenge to keep track of our favorite characters in Twelve and how they are all connected. I have seen requests on fan sites for a family tree of the three-plus generations now featured through Collins’ five novels. To that end, I embraced that challenge and created what I believe to be the most accurate possible representation of a District 12 Family Tree, along with the new knowledge we have about the route of the storied mockingjay pin.
While not going into excruciating detail here with all the evidence (or lack of same), I recently added this post about why it seems likely that Maude Ivory is Lenore Dove’s mother, who died in childbirth. Further, this family tree graphic indicates the characters that remain inconclusive with their roles. These include Maude Ivory as Lenore’s probable mother, Haymitch’s friend Blair — who could all too easily be Gale’s future father (or not) — and the mysterious Otho Mellark, the Baker’s son we meet briefly during the reaping in SOTR (see this post for more on the bumbling Otho as a “loose end”).
Further, the route of the mockingjay pin is now filled in quite a bit more, though we still do not know how it eventually travels from Maysilee’s drawer to her niece, Madge, by the time of the original series (see this more recent post about the Donner family connections, including the canary that Asterid inherits from Maysilee!). For now I am presuming that her sister, Merrilee, acquired the pin at some point and gifted it to Madge. But we just don’t know that yet from Sunrise. What we do know is that the pin was originally given to Mr. Donner’s mother (Maysilee’s grandmother), and he handed it down to an unimpressed Maysilee, along with a hummingbird pin to Merrilee (see related post on Maysilee Donner and grandmother). Humorously, Haymitch tells us the story of how Maysilee simply stuck it in a drawer at home, while Merrilee wore hers for probably five minutes before losing it down a well. Lenore Dove, who was irritated with their lack of appreciation, had planned at one point to break into the Donners’ home to steal back Maysilee’s pin. Haymitch and Blair managed to discourage her from doing so.
Perhaps the biggest surprise comes with the continued mystery around Katniss’ father, Burdock Everdeen. How exactly is he related to the Covey? With all the information Collins provides, we still cannot pin down his origins. I and untold others have repeatedly made the case that Maude Ivory is Katniss’ grandmother, as I explain within this post. But that very strong theory has not played out in SOTR, as we learn that Burdock (Katniss’ future father) is some sort of cousin to Lenore Dove (at one point he calls to her, “Hey, cuz”). We are further informed that Haymitch and Burdock had learned many of the Covey songs and music through “private performances” from Lenore Dove. This seems to be how the Covey’s music legacy is handed down to Katniss. Beyond this, there are further clues from Haymitch that Lenore Dove’s father is from the Chance family, and Lenore Dove’s uncles are pretty cagey about it. What this means is that the biggest remaining gap in the District family tree is the familial connection between Burdock Everdeen, Lenore Dove, and the Covey. Right now I can only connect them on this graphic as “cousins.”
Beyond these caveats (perhaps gaps to close within a future prequel?), I hope the following graphic is helpful to sort out the various relationships among our principal District 12 characters.
(PERMISSION FOR SHARING: Feel free to share the graphic (GIF embedded below) with proper credit, as it is meant to be educational for discussion purposes. My name and affiliation are on it already. Ever in your favor!)
(WHILE YOU’RE HERE: You may wish to check out my most recent companion book, Behind the Ballads: A Tribute to the People, Places and Music of Songbirds and Snakes (2024). A future companion guide for the Sunrise prequel and film is also in the works!)

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD FOR Sunrise on the Reaping.
For those of us hoping to learn more about the Covey, it is safe to say that we got much more than many of us expected in Collins’ latest Sunrise prequel. As Haymitch’s true love, we learn as early as page 7 that Lenore Dove is Covey, confirming earlier predictions that Collins is using “dove” as a color to indicate the second part of her Covey name. We are even given a dictionary definition of this ambiguous color, as “warm gray with a slight purlish or pinkish tint” (SOTR 7). And cutting to the chase for now, Collins further confirms (more like hits us on the head with a Maysilee slap) that Lenore Dove’s name song is owed to Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Raven.” That’s another story to unpack later. For now, let’s consider what some clues at the beginning and end of the novel may indicate about the Covey family tree (accompanying post), as an answer to Lenore Dove’s lineage may provide further insights into Katniss’ own family.
Some readers already believe — quite logically, as Lenore Dove would have it — that her mother was Lucy Gray. Fans have pointed to clues found in Lenore Dove’s outfit near the beginning of the story to support this idea. Haymitch tells us how “her faded overalls and shirts concealed snips of color, a bright blue handkerchief peeking from her pocket, a raspberry ribbon stitched inside her cuff” (SOTR 7). The particular reference to raspberries seems to be serving as the leading evidence for this notion, which admittedly still may be true.
In the spirit of Collins’ intricate storytelling, however, there is more to consider that points us away from Lucy Gray. First, in Collins’ exclusive 13-page interview (not likely a coincidence) at the end of the Barnes & Noble special edition of Sunrise, she explains that Lenore Dove “romanticizes the Covey’s prewar days as itinerant musicians on the open road. She knows the losses that followed, the murdered parents and orphaned Covey children. And in particular, she’s haunted by the fate of Lucy Gray. She wears bright bits of Lucy Gray’s dress about her person and keeps her forbidden lyrics alive in private performances for Haymitch and Burdock.” In short, this explains the color references to Lucy Gray. Lenore is wearing surviving patches from Lucy Gray’s outfits.
And why would she be “haunted by the fate of Lucy Gray” if her uncles (Tam Amber and Clerk Carmine, as indicated in my District 12 Family Tree post) had likely told her by now that her real mother died in childbirth? (SOTR 8) This tells us (likely) that Lenore Dove is either in the dark about what happened to Lucy Gray, or — more likely — she is keeping it as a Covey secret. Just one instance of several has Haymitch telling us, “I brought our victor up with Lenore Dove a few times, but she never wanted to discuss her.” (45).
Adding another piece to the puzzle, Collins provides what I would interpret as more reliable clues to this mystery. First, Haymitch explains that they (Covey) “worked out a deal with the mayor, whose house boasts the only real piano in District 12.” Lenore Dove is a piano player (or on her own simplified “tune box,” an aging accordion likely handed down from the late Billy Taupe), which further sheds light on why Haymitch saw her fingers moving earlier, “pressing down imaginary keys” (8). This is likely a reference to ivory-colored piano keys and Maude Ivory. The second clue is even more overt, as Haymitch describes her as wearing a “faded green dress, an ivory ribbon tying back her hair” (9). Why ivory, of all colors?
These are classic Collins-style clues which are likely pointing us to Maude Ivory as the mother, who (sadly) died in childbirth. We do not know the father yet, as Lenore’s “pa’s always been something of a mystery” (8). Haymitch does insinuate that her father likely derived from the Chance family, as rumors abound. Incidentally this is a fun callback to the Covey song, “Nothing You Can Take From Me,” with the line, “You can take my pa, but his name’s a mystery.” This may remain the case for quite some time.
Beyond all this, additional clues are found closer to the end of Sunrise, as we make a solemn visit with Haymitch to the Covey’s small forest graveyard. There are three headstones, each carved with snippets of the poems for which the deceased were named. Maude Ivory’s grave is mentioned first, its inscription starting with “Lady…” (This is likely the originating connection to Prim’s goat Lady.) Here Collins confirms that Maude Ivory’s first name is indeed owed to the ballad “Maude Clare,” as several writers had presumed. More to the point, it is easier to miss another clue, found in the description of the gravestones themselves. Maude Ivory’s grave is marked by a “creamy white stone,” indicating her own color (371). Notably, there is no mention of its age or the condition of the marker. While “creamy white” may indicate the color ivory, it could further indicate the relative newness of the grave itself, perhaps only some 16 years ago (upon Lenore Dove’s birth).
But Maude Ivory’s grave is only part of this final clue. The puzzle seems to come together with Haymitch’s description of Lucy Gray’s marker, “On a mossy slab of slate” (371). This seems to indicate that her grave is older and has been subject to natural wear and weathering (although slate itself is a metamorphic rock which is one of the more durable stones out there, perhaps just as Lucy Gray’s ongoing mystery will be). We should further keep in mind that Lucy Gray might not actually be interred there, as the stone may have been simply placed as a memorial (see this insightful article from Screenrant for more on this topic). Taken together, we basically have a choice between two former Covey members who could be the mother of Lenore Dove, keeping in mind that Collins coded Barb Azure as LGBTQ+. (Sure, there are a myriad of ways that Barb Azure could be related, but I don’t like her odds…) While each clue on its own holds little weight, the collection of them together provides a reasonably clear path to Maude Ivory.

With less than a week before the release of Suzanne Collins’ second prequel, I can’t help but provide my own small contribution to the countless predictions and theories that have emerged thus far. Given my re-read of the original series, an interpretation of the chapter 1 excerpt, some earlier Scholastic news, and some basic math, these are my (possibly ill-fated) attempts to decode Collins and see if I end up on the right track with a few things (or not, which will make it all good fun to see how far off base this is). Here we go, for the record. I begin with a more trivial, possibly more obvious prediction, then move onto bigger matters.


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.
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.)
(Most recent at the top)
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)

It would be a shame to find oneself only an hour away from a famous Hunger Games filming site without paying a visit to this hallowed ground. Some friends and I thus took an opportunity to check out the current scene on a beautiful May afternoon of 2021.
The real history of Henry River Mill Village began around 1905 with the establishment of a textile mill by the Henry River Manufacturing Company. The nearest town of Hildebran is located only one mile north of the mill and is just off of Interstate 40 in western North Carolina. As of 2019 the remaining structures at the site included the original company store building and 20 nearly identical wood-frame homes of former textile workers–many of them in serious disrepair. The original village had included 35 houses, and the mill itself had been closed in 1970 before being consumed by fire in 1977. Since then the village’s boarding house has also been destroyed, which once sat just to the left of the company store. Fans will recognize the village in various scenes within “The Hunger Games” film to represent Katniss’ own coal-patch town, the Seam. The old company store, for instance, served as the Mellark bakery, and one of the dilapidated houses featured as the Everdeen residence (interior and exterior pictured below).
What may be less familiar is the site’s more recent developments well after the filming. Following the Village’s abandonment since the 1990s, the place is now being transformed as a visitor attraction. The entire village property was purchased in 2017 by Calvin Reyes and his parents. In the spirit of transforming historic structures to more contemporary purposes—defined as adaptive re-use—Reyes has restored one of the houses and has converted the entire village property into a visitor destination. Due in part to its fame as a popular filming location, the outdoor site is also monitored more thoroughly with video surveillance. The previous owner had less control over trespassing and the vandalism that occasionally came with it. Likewise, activities for visitors are now more organized and prescribed in the form of scheduled tours.
Not knowing what to expect upon arrival, we found a simple metal shipping container in the small parking lot next to the company store, and we wondered where everybody was. After milling around a bit (pun intended), an enthusiastic fellow emerged from the trailer to greet us, confirming that he would be our tour guide of the site as well (I had purchased tickets online, if I recall). With no one else around, the three of us enjoyed our own private tour and some wonderful tidbits about both the filming and the site’s history. Perhaps the most explosive (pun intended) bit of information was his revelation that the filming crew blew up one of the remaining derelict houses to film the flashback scene of the mine explosion. Upon later browsing in the budding gift shop, he further revealed the true control the company held over its employees and families, right down to the separate currency the company distributed for use in its own company store (pictured below). Not to neglect, of course, that true moment of fandom when you stand in the very Everdeen residence where Katniss, Prim, and their Mother kicked off the movie.
Fans will also recall the scene by the old dam within “The Hunger Games” film, which Katniss scoots across during her early hunting foray. This scene was filmed here as well. After concluding our guided tour, we ventured downhill to see if we had visual access to the reservoir and dam. No luck. Any access was completely overgrown by thick vegetation, and we risked venturing onto private property. Thus, we did not succeed with the “dam tour” on this visit. Our guide explained that the filming crew had gained permission from the owners. But no matter, we enjoyed complete freedom to stroll around the remainder of the village after our tour. We even discovered that the property is now popular for weddings, with an old church window serving as a makeshift altar in the village’s own meadow (photo below).
Although certainly not a realistic coal-town landscape as portrayed within the saga by author Suzanne Collins, I believe the decision to portray the Seam here in Henry River was as good as any, especially given the educational opportunities provided by an actual company town. With no running water and scant electricity even during the mill’s heyday, this provided for a much more realistic filming location than the back lot of a Hollywood studio.
Here’s the web site for Henry River Mill Village.












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:
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Preface
Introduction
PART 1: Setting the Geographic Stage
PART 2: The Music of District 12
Chapter Notes
Bibliography
Index

(SPOILER ALERT for The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes)
Perhaps one of the more light-hearted debates among fans has been whether we have indeed met one of Katniss’ ancestors within the prequel. After reading a variety of perspectives on this issue, I began to notice potential clues myself. Not all of Collins’ possible clues are found in her recent prequel, however, but they also spill over to the original series. Suggestions regarding who is or is not related to Katniss have been wide ranging. In my limited perusal of fan sights, it seems the number one candidate for a Katniss ancestor is Lucy Gray Baird herself. A close second might be Maude Ivory, followed then by a litany of other possibilities—any of which are potentially valid until Suzanne Collins decides to just tell us in some way what she was thinking. Some believe there is no family connection at all. Like Lucy Gray in the woods—and the ballad for which she is named—the answer may be blowing in the wind.
That said, in this post I provide a collection of potential clues, or breadcrumbs, that appear to indicate a family connection between Maude Ivory and Katniss. When taken separately, they may each be meaningless. But when considered together, it is difficult to dismiss their consistent message. Let’s take a look at some of my favorite “breadcrumbs”.
Confirming a Musical Connection
Starting from a baseline of what Collins has already admitted, it is vital to begin with this excerpt taken from a recent interview between the author and a Vice President of Scholastic, David Levithan, released on the same day as the prequel. During this interview, Collins introduces us to her new character of Lucy Gray Baird:
Focusing on the 10th Hunger Games also gave me the opportunity to tell Lucy Gray’s story. In the first chapter of The Hunger Games, I make reference to a fourth District 12 victor. Katniss doesn’t seem to know anything about the person worth mentioning. While her story isn’t well-known, Lucy Gray lives on in a significant way through her music, helping to bring down Snow in the trilogy. Imagine his reaction when Katniss starts singing “Deep in the Meadow” to Rue in the arena. Beyond that, Lucy Gray’s legacy is that she introduced entertainment to the Hunger Games. (Scholastic Releases New Interview)
In my mind there is a treasure-trove of information packed in here. Collins admits to a planned musical connection between Lucy Gray and Katniss, though she stops just short of suggesting a family relationship. She even imagines out loud what Snow must be thinking when he hears Katniss singing the very songs he had heard decades earlier. Further, Collins all but puts to rest the popular notion that Lucy Gray is a direct ancestor of Katniss, claiming only that Lucy Gray “lives on in a significant way through her music”. This seems to imply that Lucy Gray either did not survive long after the prequel, or she did not remain long in District 12 to raise a family herself. Another post of mine provides the perspective that Lucy Gray likely survived her incident with Coriolanus in the woods, despite the Wordsworth poem serving as a clear metaphor (and foreshadowing) for her own life. Still, that does not mean that she necessarily hung out in District 12 for a long time, let alone raised a family.
This supports the belief of a portion of readers that Lucy Gray could not be related to Katniss or her father because Katniss would have naturally mentioned his grandmother or grandparents within all of her reminiscing about family throughout the original series. She seems to know nothing about her grandparents, about where her father learned all that music or why he knew so much about the woods and the lake. And, if that weren’t enough, why had Katniss never heard any details about how her grandmother had won the tenth annual Games? Some of these points provide relevant mysteries even if we believe Maude Ivory becomes the carrier of this knowledge and passes it down to Katniss’ father—a mystery I admittedly have yet to reconcile. However, let’s look at the following clues that seem to indicate a Maude Ivory connection. There are many more than this, which other readers can help to uncover. In the interest of keeping this post relatively brief, here are some of my favorites.
Doing the Math: Maude Ivory as Grandmother
In terms of “doing the math,” it does make sense that Maude Ivory could realistically be Katniss’ paternal grandmother. First, Collins makes a point to inform readers of Maude’s age. Near the beginning of the Covey’s first performance at the Hob, Coriolanus observes Maude Ivory and estimates that she “couldn’t be more than eight or nine” (p. 361). In this way, Collins is likely instructing us that Maude Ivory is, well, eight or nine. Why else would she mention this in her narrative?
Beyond such speculation, it allows us to calculate the timeline of possible future generations and births. As just one of numerous possibilities, let’s assume that Maude is nine years old during the tenth games. Then she could be around 29 when giving birth to Katniss’ father (the year of the 30th annual games). This would make Katniss’ father a reasonable 28 years old when his own wife gives birth to Katniss (year of the 58th games). Katniss would then be the correct 16 years old when she is reaped for the 74th games. Thus, both Maude and her son—Katniss’ father—would be in their late 20s when they start, or continue, their own families. Even considering that average lifespans are likely shorter within the Seam, due largely to impoverished living conditions and mining hazards, this generational timeline would be realistic for Collins’ contemporary readership.
Mockingjays, Singing, and the Woods
Despite this oddity, it is difficult to simply ignore numerous clues that may point to connections between Maude Ivory, Katniss, and her father. Those connections largely involve their shared knowledge of Appalachian music, their similar singing styles and musical abilities, and their collective familiarity with the woods and the lake. Let’s focus first on Katniss’ father and his own musical legacy that was variously passed down to his daughters. Here is Katniss expounding upon her father’s musical skill and his love for singing—and for mockingjays in particular:
My father was particularly fond of mockingjays. When we went hunting, he would whistle or sing complicated songs to them and, after a polite pause, they’d always sing back. Not everyone is treated with such respect. But whenever my father sang, all the birds in the area would fall silent and listen. His voice was that beautiful, high and clear and so filled with life it made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. I could never bring myself to continue the practice after he was gone. (THG, Ch. 3)
Katniss’ father clearly commanded the attention of mockingjays, apparently more successfully than most people. One clue here is that the birds would “fall silent and listen” because his voice was “that beautiful”. Members of the Covey enjoyed similar influence over the melodic birds, singing along with them during their hikes in the woods.
Memorizing Music
Another song replete with generational connections is none other than “The Hanging Tree”. Just before Katniss sings it for the “propo team” in Mockingjay, she admits to remembering its “every word” despite not having sung it since she was around seven years old. Maude Ivory had similarly learned the ballad at a young age, claiming it had “real authority”. And she was most likely the one who quietly passed it on to others. This is due to the song’s having been banned in District 12, after which Lucy Gray promised not to sing it. Somehow, then, Katniss’ father learns it, thus allowing Katniss to sing it much later in Mockingjay. In part, Katniss reflects back on the time she practically knew it as a household song:
In the stillness I remember the scene. I was home from a day in the woods with my father. Sitting on the floor with Prim, who was just a toddler, singing “The Hanging Tree.” Making us necklaces out of scraps of old rope like it said in the song, not knowing the real meaning of the words. The tune was simple and easy to harmonize to, though, and back then I could memorize almost anything set to music after a round or two. (MJ, Ch. 9)
This passage provides perhaps the most significant reference to a potential connection between Maude Ivory and Katniss. Here Katniss admits that she could “memorize almost anything set to music” after only a little practice. In the more recent prequel, Lucy Gray explains why she chose to sing her own ballad as a way to communicate with the Covey back in District 12 (Note: “P” = new paragraph):
“The song, it was payback of a kind. Most people won’t know that, but the Covey will get the message, loud and clear. And they’re all I really care about.” (P) “Just on one hearing?” asked Coriolanus. “It went by pretty fast.” (P) “One hearing’s all my cousin Maude Ivory needs. That child never forgets anything with a tune,” said Lucy Gray. (BSS p.173)
In this case, Collins uses Coriolanus to lead into a discussion about Maude Ivory, by having him express doubt that the Covey would pick up a song on television with only “one hearing”. In response, Lucy Gray praises Maude Ivory’s memory by claiming that the child “never forgets anything with a tune”. Why would Collins insert this information if it wasn’t coded for some larger meaning? It is highly improbable that both Maude Ivory and Katniss Everdeen coincidentally enjoy the same ability, and at roughly the same young age. This does not imply, of course, that the special music skill they share is passed down genetically. Rather, this may be another literary approach to suggest a family connection between them.
To conclude here for now, this question of a potential family connection is just one “loose end” within the prequel that makes me believe more books are on the way. I invite readers to see my earlier post about Maude Ivory and Butter where I provide a litany of loose ends that may indicate that Collins intends to continue writing beyond the prequel (or at least we can hope that the odds are indeed in our favor). Until that happens of course, all of this is little more than fun speculation. So, in the meantime, fun we will have!
(NOTE: Spoiler Alert for The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes)
(Feature Image: An old crank-type butter churn. Source: Creative Commons, the Mallala Museum.)
There are admittedly some compelling arguments as to why Suzanne Collins’ Prequel may be her last in the series. Indicators include the unique formatting and voice of this story compared to the original series, its overall length, and the way she seems to close out the story quickly with an Epilogue that some feel is rushed. It is certainly reasonable for someone to conclude, “well, that about wraps it up for Snow”. Others wisely point to Collins’ own stated purpose for writing the Prequel, as she is quoted within a Scholastic News Room piece: “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.” Having presumably accomplished her education goal with the book, some say, there may be little interest on her part—or sense of obligation— to continue the story beyond the Prequel. If this is indeed the case, then we might say to Collins and her world of Panem—in the timeless words of author Douglas Adams, “So long, and thanks for all the fish”. Or, thanks for the intriguing and thought-provoking stories, in any case.
Despite all of this, there is equally—if not more—compelling reason to suggest that the Prequel is likely just the beginning of another three-part series. Given my own, nearly-unwavering belief this is the case, the remainder of this post will attempt to make that argument. For purposes here, my entire argument is based solely on canon, the actual narrative as Collins has written it. In my mind, there are simply too many loose ends, possible clues, and strategic dialogue segments to easily suggest the series has come to a sudden crash with the Prequel. Let’s explore some of these aspects that I have identified. There are likely even more that my own literal mind has not absorbed or recognized yet. These points below are in no particular order of importance or sequence within the narrative. Although the first one is definitely in my “top five” list.
The Butter Enigma: What’s up with Maude Ivory’s fascination with butter? Readers spend quite some time at the Covey household enjoying a rather curious conversation around Maude Ivory’s love of butter, and none of this seems to connect in obvious ways to the rest of the story. In short, it is not necessary, and Collins could have provided any other conversational direction here. As Lucy Gray explains: “We promised Maude Ivory we’d try. She’s crazy for butter. Tam Amber fashioned the churn for her birthday. Guess we’ll see,” said Lucy Gray (BSS 394). It would not be unreasonable to interpret this conversation as a “sign post,” or foreshadowing, for additional connections and meanings to appear in a future book. If nothing else, the conversation may indeed point to yet another commonality that Maude Ivory seems to have with the future Katniss Everdeen: that of nightmares and thus possible symptoms of PTSD. It is likely no accident that Lucy Gray explains to Coriolanus that the butter churning exercise gives Maude Ivory something constructive to do. As she states, “But it’ll be worth it if it works. Maude Ivory doesn’t sleep well since they took me away. Seems fine during the day, then wakes up screaming at night,” confided Lucy Gray. “Trying to get some happy in her head.” (BSS 394).
Perhaps the connection between Maude Ivory and butter churning is solely meant to set up this latter conversation about her nightmares. In which case Suzanne Collins is almost certainly pointing to more similarities between Maude Ivory and Katniss. The “screaming at night” phrase simply “screams” a major connection between the two characters. Regardless of where this “butter enigma” (as I call it) actually leads, is this really the end of the story? It is difficult to believe that Collins would include such dialogue without any intention to foreshadow or provide future hints of character connections.
One final thought is difficult to dismiss outright—that of a cat named Buttercup. This seems to be the only tangible connection with butter between the original series and the Prequel. Should it turn out (as I and others suspect) that Maude Ivory is Katniss’ grandmother, then she may have passed down her love of butter to Katniss’ parents, after which Prim indirectly picks it up (or after her father’s death). Although Katniss explains on page one of The Hunger Games that Prim named him Buttercup after the “bright flower,” it is possible to imagine a connection here. Beyond that is the more direct comparison between Maude Ivory’s goat and that of Prim—first, the undeniable fact that they both have one. In a larger context, both families are attempting to survive on some form of subsistence agriculture and farm life, producing for their own consumption. This ties even more broadly into the traditional, small-farm agricultural traditions of rural Appalachia (I will stop for now with this line of discussion.)
In the interest of brevity for this post, let’s just touch on a few additional “loose ends” that seem to be pointing to future books:
This list could likely be expanded through the keen observations of others. With all of this left “blowing in the wind” (perhaps like Lucy Gray), it is seriously difficult to believe that future books are not on the way.