Signal Boost: Support Kaleidoscope: Diverse YA Fantasy

Those who know me know that I am a big supporter of projects that interest me on Kickstarter/Indie Go Go/what-have-you, especially ones that are working to fill a niche that larger publishers with working budgets aren't able to.

I've found another one that I'd like you to consider supporting, because it's a great idea and as of this writing is falling short of its goal with only four days to go.

The project is called Kaleidoscope: Diverse YA Fantasy, and its goal is to create an anthology of YA-themed stories with protagonists who aren't seen with enough frequency in a publishing context. From the project page's description:

Too often popular culture and media defaults to a very narrow cross section of the world's populace. We believe that people of all kinds want to see themselves reflected in stories. We also believe that readers actively enjoy reading stories about people who aren't exactly like them. 

The main characters in Kaleidoscope stories will be part of the QUILTBAG, neuro-diverse, disabled, from non-Western cultures, people of color, or in some other way not the typical straight, white, cis-gendered, able-bodied characters we see all over the place.

Now that's not unusual as an effort in small publishing. However, if you don't do it right, the results are ham-fisted and don't tell a good story. What I liked about this project's plan--and the reason I chose to back it--was this additional comment:

 That said, these aren't going to be issue stories. The focus here is contemporary fantasy, and while the characters' backgrounds will necessarily affect how they engage with the world, we're not going to have a collection of "Very Special Episode" stories about kids coming to terms with their sexuality/disability/mental illness/cultural identity, etc. We want to see protagonists from all sorts of backgrounds being the heroes of their own journeys.

 That's extremely important. The key to a good story should always be the *story* not "Hey look, my characters are obviously gay!" or "See, I wrote this character as Black. Why are you asking about why she never faces any issues as a result of her race?"

It's a tricky balance, but I trust this one to work because of who is involved in the project. Julia Rios is a fiction editor at the highly regarded Strange Horizons weekly online fiction magazine. Strange Horizons regularly publishes fiction in which the characters fit the quiltbag designation. For example, a few weeks ago, the story was about two gay teens and how one lures in his paramours with a tale of a ghost who watches them make love. This past week's story features a girl who is picked on for being queer, even though she's not--she's just a tomboy. Given Rios' background, I fully trust her to be able to help select the stories that are the best, not just the ones with the best-fitting characters.

In addition, I have great faith in two of the committed contributors, Ken Liu and Vylar Kaftan, to turn in amazing stories to anchor the anthology. Liu's popularity is well-founded, being nominated--and winning--awards left and right this year. Kaftan is not only a great writer, but she's also strongly supportive of the rights of those whose voices often go unheard. They're solid picks for this project.

I am less familiar with the publisher, Twelfth Planet press, but the fact that this project comes from a small press with an extensive back catalog should help ease the worries of those who fear projects that fund but never deliver. It would significantly harm the reputation of Twelfth Planet if this doesn't see print, should it make its goal. They are also paying authors pro rates, which is a sign of professionalism.

Kaleidoscope is a wonderful project that deserves a place on the bookshelf. If you are interested in YA fiction and have $5 (or more) budgeted for a new book, consider putting it towards this one. I really want to see this make it, but it won't if we don't help get it started. Take a moment if you agree and pledge.

A Trip to the Baltimore Book Festival 2013

Baltimore Book Festival Entrance

This past weekend, Erica and I (along with friends Kelly, Sam, Sarah, Michael, and Nolina at various points) hung out for a bit at the 2013 Baltimore Book Festival. Despite living here for four years, this was my first time going, because honestly, I was usually too busy.

I made the time this year, and I am glad I did. It's really awesome to see a city like Baltimore, which has quite a few issues when it comes to its priorities, come together to celebrate the act of reading of all kinds.

And that was the thing I liked about this festival--whether it was romances, kids books, anarchy, or even cook books--the focus was on the printed/digital word. Even the vendors were primarily focused on books, with plenty of opportunities to grab used or new books for cheap, try out a indie author looking to break out into the next big thing, or even subscribe to a newspaper. Comics were sorted out into their own area, which is either good or bad, depending on your outlook, and of course the Pratt Library was out in full force, doing their "get carded" program.

The Short Fiction in Sci Fi Panel

Because of the variety, it seemed like the festival was serving a huge proportion of the Baltimore reading community, and I was pleased to see that it was a multi-racial affair. In fact, being blunt, it's about the most integrated I've ever seen Baltimore. (Readers are cool that way.) While walking around, I saw the tents containing the programming full to the brim almost everywhere, with the biggest crowds for the Romance and Science Fiction folks. (Fans of genres are nothing if not passionate.)

While I personally did not do a lot of panel-sitting--I'm notoriously bad at this if there's things to look at (see my visits to comic cons over at Panel Patter)--my friends did, and they came away very impressed with the quality of the presentations. One told me she'd learned a lot and was going to start putting certain ideas she got at the show into immediate practice to improve her writing craft. I realize I'm a bit biased because of the moderator, but Sarah Pinsker did another spectacular job running the short fiction panel, picking good questions and keeping all members of the panel on task and involved.

The Baltimore Science Fiction Society

I also appreciate that there's always a place for the more radical side of Baltimore to speak at the show, though I missed their stuff this time around. Another booth had a person talking frankly of the race issues in Baltimore and his experiences, which I thought was great.

For various reasons due mostly to jet lag, I didn't spend as much time at the Festival as I might have normally, but what I saw I thought was well run, with few hiccups or annoyances. The number of cops did give me pause (did they think there'd be a book riot or something?) and they need to turn the music down at the bandstand, but otherwise, I would recommend this little outdoor con without hesitation. It's free, pretty easy to get to by Baltimore transportation, and even worth the drive if you're just outside the area.

This will almost certainly be my own trip to the Baltimore Book Festival, but it was a good one, and I hope it continues for many years to come.

You can find a complete set of my pictures from the Baltimore Book Festival 2013 here.

A Colored Man's Reminiscences of James Madison by Paul Jennings

Paul Jennings

Writing a tell-all book about your experiences in the White House is all the rage these days, whether you were a junior staffer or a member of the Cabinet.

But did you know that the first such memoir was written by a former slave, all the way back in 1865?

It's a little known piece of American History, one they don't teach you in school (but should), even if this book is more of a booklet by today's standards. Paul Jennings, slave to James Madison, was at his side for many years and respected so highly that Daniel Webster purchased his freedom after Madison's death to prevent him from being sold off by Dolly Madison.* (Jennings later worked off this debt to Webster.)

His life alone is pretty amazing, as he assisted with an attempt to rescue slaves via boat, and three of his children served with the Union in the Civil War. Fortunately, there has been a book written about him (by Elizabeth Dowling Taylor, in 2012) which I hope to read someday.

In the meantime, I highly recommend you check out his memoir, which you can read online for free via Google Books. It won't take you long at all to read, but it is definitely insightful. Dictated (I think) to a person named JBR, it has some interesting things to say about President Madison, working to confirm some details of his life and dispel myths at other points.

From the very start, the writing is engaging. He talks about how Secretary Gallatin was a "tip-top man" and noted that the Secretary of War "always agreed with Mr. Madison" which could explain why the disastrous War of 1812 happened. There's great urgency in Jennings' voice as he describes the fear and confusion of the burning of Washington. Particularly telling is that the Madisons were assured "there was no danger" which was of course completely untrue, but typical of the American approach to that war--arrogance bordering on stupidity.

Perhaps my favorite recollection here is the woman who threw Dolly out of her house, because "Your husband has got mine out fighting, and damn you, you shan't stay in my house; so get out!"

It's neat things like that which make this small memoir shine, especially when you learn their source is fellow slaves. Reading this is almost like finding a hidden history.

Jennings is very casual and conversational no matter what the topic. He discusses how the South refused to let the capital move north after the War--and you wonder how that might have changed the face of the Civil War had they succeeded.

Despite his poor treatment at her hands. Jennings is kind to Dolly Madison. While he does burst the "Dolly saved the Washington portrait" story, Jennings also refers to how well-liked she was and feels pit at her poverty at the end of her life. The man even gave he money to help her. That's a level of forgiveness I don't think I could share, were I in his shoes.

This book tells more in about twenty pages than many biographies do in two hundred. It's a great, short read that could probably be finished on your phone while commuting to and from work. Regardless, history fans really shouldn't miss this hidden gem, which is highly recommended.

*In typical "Virginia Founding Fathers Were Terrible People Mode," Dolly promised Jennings his freedom, then went back on it. Funny, that gets left out of the biographies for kids, too.

Signal Boost: Support Mothership: Tales from Afrofuturism & Beyond

I don't think I've ever posted on this blog about a crowd-sourced project before, but I really believe in this one and it's still a bit short of its goal.  As a disclosure, I am a backer of the project.

Mothership: Tales from Afrofuturism & Beyond--Support the Writer Campaign is raising funds for an anthology of speculative fiction written by by people of color. It's designed to be an opportunity to spotlight the fact that, despite what you may see in popular culture, there are plenty of extremely talented writers out there who aren't white.

The project is meant to open eyes to this fact, because all too often, it appears that only white writers get the attention or that white characters are the only ones out there in the realms of speculative fiction stories. It's a problem that I've taken a particular interest in since coming back from ReaderCon. I've always been aware of it, but now it's something that I want to actively challenge, both in my choice of fiction that I read and in how I write my own stories.

I think the project's description puts it most accurately:

When watching a work of science fiction on the big or small screen, people of color often find themselves asking:

"Where did we go?"

"Did some melanin-devouring plague attack all humanity?"

"Do zombies only like the dark meat?"

But that's Hollywood. While studio executives continue to show the world's multi-hued population through its monochromatic lens, the literary field of speculative fiction has become more diverse than ever. Whether it's horror, science fiction, or fantasy, steampunk or steamfunk (and let's not forget sword and soul), writers of color are producing quality works and accumulating accolades and awards every day.

 I am woefully ignorant of the vast majority of the contributors, which I hope to be able to fix once the project is funded. (I will allow myself the one caveat that given I work heavily as a review of comics, I can only spend so much time reading anything else, so my knowledge of modern fiction writers in general is far less than the average active reader, I'd wager.)  However, I can speak personally for the quality of Tobias Buckell's prose, whose first novel I read several years ago.  I also saw Anil Menon, Daniel Jose Older, and  Vandana Singh at ReaderCon on various panels, and all of them impressed me as authors I wanted to seek out and read from, based on their views about the nature of writing.

As of this writing, the project is a little over $3,000 short of its goal. It is a flexible funding campaign, so the project will at least be partially funded. But for $10, you can get an electronic copy of an anthology that has talented individuals working together to show that the world of the possible has as many shades as our own reality.

If you enjoy short fiction and have the funds available, please help this project meet its goal, both for your own reading pleasure and for the statement it makes that books like this are things we as readers want to see on our shelves.

The Victory Season by Robert Weintraub

1946 was a year of transition for America, the world, and baseball, as this engaging book by Robert Weintraub, published just in time for the 2013 season, shows.

Part baseball history, part cultural background, Weintraub weaves a narrative of how baseball dealt with returning war veterans, the changing nature of the post-war America, and a challenge to its complete control of baseball players in an era of labor strife.  Placing the reserve clause in context of paralyzing strikes across the country, along with fighting with those who risked their lives for freedom over a few thousand dollars, really shows that the owners of baseball could be horrible people when it comes to money.

And that's before we get into their attempts to block the Dodgers from signing Jackie Robinson.

Weintraub also looks at how Rickey's integration of the game factors into this cultural maelstrom, using interviews with Mrs. Robinson to aid in bringing the trials of Robinson to the fore, even though he was "only" in the minors in '46.  Little anecdotes that are both tragic and heartwarming show not only the bald racism of the South (including a really bad show by Baltimore) but the quiet racism of defacto segregation in Canada and elsewhere.  I really enjoyed hearing about African American players involved in Armed Forces games in Europe, something I had no idea existed.

I would argue this book's greatest value is not in its retelling of the 1946 season (which focuses on the biggest names, teams, and events) but in bringing in background information that even a dedicated fan of the game may be unaware.  For instance, I had no idea there was an Armed Forces World Series or that they played baseball in German prison camps.  Weintraub goes into carefully researched detail about the major league players who lost their lives in WW2 or who made sacrifices nearly so great.  There's an awesome story about Larry MacPhail trying to capture the Kaiser in WW1 and we also get to see the wildly varying reactions of star players to fighting during their prime earning years.  It's a tribute to their greatness that some volunteered or tried to get out from cushy jobs to see action.

Because they were the two teams in the 1946 World Series, the book focuses a lot on the St. Louis Cardinals (an early adopter of the "build from the farm" strategy) and the Boston Red Sox (whose first real taste of the "Curse of the Bambino" begins here).  We also see the Dodgers, Yankees, and Cubs a fair amount, which is one of the few failings of Weintraub's writing--there's a definite focus on the bigger market teams. However, in fairness, in a book already boosted out over 400 pages, it would be hard to include more details.

The other issue the book has does relate to Weintraub's writing style, however.  He tries to mix a style that incorporates the breezy slang of both 1946 and 2012, and they often clash awkwardly.  While it may be true, I'm not sure hearing about Leo the Lip getting in someone's grille is the best way to phrase something.  I got used to this merging after awhile, but it may throw a few readers for a curve.

That's a minor complaint in a book that does so many things well.  While hailing the "Greatest Generation", Weintraub rightly doesn't treat them like gods.  He talks openly about the flaws of the owners (completely destroying the "baseball was better then" myth by showing just how awful the owners could be, including one story that leads to deaths), the players of the time, and the American people who did things like create false scarcity.  He's hard on Truman as a leader when referenced, and notes just how bad things were if you were a player, openly boggling at how the players allowed the owners to get away with so much.  I particularly liked his point about how we call people like Musial and DiMaggio "boys" but don't use the term nearly so often for the players before or since.  This was a unique group, operating in a different time, and Weintraub shows that to the reader.

Bringing the story of the 1946 season to life could have been a dull historical piece that retreaded ground covered by others.  Instead, Weintraub works hard to bring lesser-known factors to light, such as the attempt to get players to move to Mexico, an ill-starred idea that I think might have been the last major challenge to the supremacy of Major League Baseball.  Picking the best moments to highlight, we see players  fighting through injury, pivotal choices that may have changed history (making the Red Sox play 3 exhibition games before the World Series, of all things!), and ground-breaking moments (the first NL playoff).  The book is a real page-turner, because instead of a blow-by-blow, we see the things most interesting recounted, often on a more personal level than other histories have managed.

The Victory Season is not for the casual fan, clocking in at over 400 pages and covering territory that only those addicted to the game from an early age (like me) can appreciate.  For the person who counts down to pitchers and catchers reporting who wants to learn more about the game's history, this is a great present for them to read between innings of rooting for their favorite teams.

My thanks to Little, Brown, and Co. for providing me with a copy of this book.

An Object of Beauty by Steve Martin

Lacey Yeager is almost as hot as the art she's involved in selling, using everything she knows to rise above her station in the art world.  Manipulative, cunning, and a bit lucky, she fights for a place in a world where the world million doesn't even need to be used.  Never failing to try and gain an edge, Lacey won't even let the events of September 11th stop her from hobnobbing with the elite and joining their ranks.  But sometimes, it's just not meant to be, as this fictional chronicle by Renaissance man Steve Martin shows.

Steve Martin has been a part of my cultural orbit for my entire life, whether it was Saturday Night Live re-runs, guest appearances, or his 1980s movies.  While his acting started to leave me cold over time and Martin himself gave up stand-up, the idea of Martin the writer has risen to be one of his greatest strengths.  Picasso at the Lapin Agile is a great play to read that I hope to see life someday.  I was happy to find this at the library, waiting to be grabbed, and I'm glad I was the person who found it.

For those who don't know, one of Martin's interests is art, and he uses that interest to really infuse this book with knowledge and opinion about damned near all of the art world, giving it a basis in the real world that another writer could not manage if they set their world in the same aura of big-name art dealing.  When the characters in this book discuss Warhol's place in the pantheon of artists or the way certain painters are either ignored or "discovered" over time, you can tell it's not just research for Martin.  These are things he has either discussed or considered on his own.

Similarly, Lacey's rise to power, using her positive and negative traits to get to the point of owning her own gallery, are frequently marked with allusions to other kinds of stardom.  I don't doubt that Martin, in his trek from Disney employee to the star of the Pink Panther remake (in some ways, a rise and fall all its own), encountered people, male and female, who were not above crossing the borders of legality to try and gain an edge.

And that's the thing that really makes this book so good.  I'm an amateur art geek who is conversant from Egyptian art to the Pop era.  I have so many holes in my knowledge that people use my art expertise as a golf course, but I love going to galleries and have over time developed a way to understand what makes one painting better than another from the same time frame.  For me, the talk of Rembrandt, Matisse, and others both real and imagined meshed well with what I knew and really gave the story depth.  But if I only knew a Van Gough when the signature was pointed out to me, I could still appreciate Lacey and her story.

After all, isn't it the most American thing to do, over the course of the 90s and 2000s, to do everything you could to rise to the top, even if it was a house of cards, ready to tumble?  The dot com bubble, the housing bubble, the impending student loan bubble--they all result from the fact that we as American lust to be the richest thing around and will often do stupid things (like take out a second job to afford a more fashionable car we can't drive in because we have to work so much) just to look "better" than the rest of humanity.  Just as Lacey's actions that generate the wealth she needs to move from auction house girl to world traveler eventually banish her to the backwaters of the art work, America's actions over the past half century are quickly placing us in company with Greece instead of China.

In the end, Russia may just bury us after all, just like those who Lacey tries to screw over end up burying her.  Given that Martin sets this story to coincide with the boom and bust of America's overall economy, I think he's purposefully going for the comparison.  Lacey and the art world are avatars for Martin to make social commentary, using a literary device that goes back at least as far as Homer.

To be a good book, however, requires more than just an ability to comment.  While Martin probably will never be the best at narration, his dialogue is razor sharp, echoing without repeating his best acting work.  There were many times where I could hear Martin mentally while the character spoke, giving the story a lot of life and energy.  This was really needed because often the characters are unlikable (either rich bores or people on the make) and when Lacey says things like how she was sad there was no crime after failing at her "Lacey Drew" impression, the comedic timing is perfect.

My only real issue with the story is that I found the narrator to be an off choice.  Martin picks an art critic who was briefly a lover of Lacey's and later her dupe to tell Lacey's story, blurring whether it is fact or fiction within the context.  He's not a loser, but he's the kind of person who always ends up being an also-ran, and compared to Lacey, he's a dullard who can only reflect her light.  I guess that's the point, but I feel like the book might have been better served by keeping the narrator out of the story entirely.  You can tell Martin is trying to be post-modern, but I think it was one layer of clever too many in an otherwise really good book.

An Object of Beauty has a lot going on, just like the best paintings.  It's both a case study, an admiration of audacity, and a warning to those who will do anything to win.  Martin's got a great feel for intricate writing such as this, and I hope he continues to pour energy into books such as these and less facile films that play upon his reputation but don't play to his strengths.

Catching Fire (The Hunger Games Book 2) by Suzanne Collins

Katniss and Peeta have won the games, but their prize is the wrath of President Snow.  As unrest stirs in the districts, Snow makes it clear to Katniss that life as she knows it is over, and one false move means death for her and everyone she cares about.  But the pain is only starting when the "celebration" of the 75th annual games puts Katniss and Peeta in the Games for the second consecutive year--against other Games winners.  With her every move potentially a killer for those at home, is Katniss brave enough to defy the Capital and stay alive against the malice of the Snow and the deadly killers she's trapped with?  She's saved Peeta once, but doing it again might be tricky in the second book of the Hunger Games.

[Warning:  I do spoil some things here, which is unusual for me.  If you haven't read the books and want to, might be better to skip this.]

Ever tried to start a charcoal grill when it's windy?  No amount of paper or lighter fluid can help you.  It's going to take a long time to get those coals to catch, and you are liable to get extremely frustrated.  That is exactly how I felt about reading most of Catching Fire, whose title is extremely apt because the story takes about 200 pages to start getting interesting and for the fiery action to get started.

Oh sure, things happen in the first dozen or so chapters.  As with the first book, Collins is careful to explain everything and provide sufficient information so that no one can be the least bit puzzled.  The trouble is that the explanation is way too long and is even more infuriating this time, because it often takes all the suspense out of everything.  Just in case we weren't sure that there was resistance to the Capital, we get multiple pages showing us it's happening.  Just in case we weren't sure that those who help Katniss out in any way will be brutally tortured, we get not one but two instances of it.  Just in case we don't get that Katniss wants to save Peeta, Collins mentions it so many times I began to wonder if it was going to be plot point that Katniss saves herself instead.  Nope!

Now maybe I'm a bit harder to fool than most readers (I've been known to announce, mid-mystery book, "so and so did it" and be right over half the time), but a lot of the potential enjoyment I might have had out of the shock and surprise moments of Catching Fire were ruined because, for me at least, Collins was telegraphing them a mile away.  None of the big shocks, right up to the rushed reveal in the last chapter, were a surprise to me.  I called them like I was Minnesota Fats playing 8-ball for cash.

• It's so obvious they're going to crack down on District 12, Gale's beating is inevitable, because she's not gonna harm Prim and Katniss' mom isn't doing anything illegal.
• It's so obvious Cinna is planting defiance in Katniss' outfit from the line "I only hurt myself" that when he's taken away, it's a flat moment.
• It's so obvious Haymitch has convinced the others to save Peeta and Katniss, because it happens so many times it's as obvious as the fact that Katniss and Peeta aren't going to die.
• It's so obvious Johanna is saving a person she hates *I* start to hate Katniss' stupidity at not seeing it, too.
• It's so obvious that Haymitch is scheming to take down the Capital from the moment you learn he survived the games by beating them at their own torture device that to learn there's a revolution awaiting at the end of the book is about as shocking as "there is no more District 12."

I'm really sorry if these things surprised you.  Maybe it's my fault as a reader.  Maybe I am expecting too much of a YA book.  But this book really feels like Collins is underestimating her audience.  Had she eased off on the clues or some something really out there, like keep Peeta dead, I might feel differently.

As it stands, the story is one-dimensional filler, with the most interesting parts being the diabolical creations made for the arena.  Collins is at her best when we're in the Games, and I really did think the idea of putting them in a giant circle, with conditions unfamiliar to Katniss, was a nice touch.  But then again, that's to force her to have partners, so it too, is a bit of a giant telegraph, as well as being a giant watch.  The fog was creepy and the jays calling out the tortured screams of friends and family was a nice touch.  Unfortunately, all of that was really crammed in the last 100 pages, which is a shame.  I'd have loved to see more terrors inflicted on the group.  When the characters talk about how "this is moving fast" they aren't kidding.  (Never ever let your character comment on your failings as an author.  That's a softball for any reader not enjoying themselves.)

Unlike Book 1, this volume really comes to a screeching halt, using a one-page summary of events (I kid you not) to get the reader up to speed, looking very much like plotting notes typed up and formalized and placed at the end of the book.  I'm sorry, that's lazy, sloppy writing and no editor should ever have let that pass.  It read like a comic book recap page, but instead of being helpful to anyone who came in late, it's there to tell someone who has been with the book all along what they missed while Katniss was being incredibly clueless.

I mentioned in my first review that I didn't care for Katniss as the focal character, and she's even worse here. She just acts like there isn't a brain in her head for thinking instead of acting.   Katniss can't see past the nose on her face, which is infuriating because it means Collins has to keep everything from the reader, too.  I'd have found this book a lot more interesting from Haymitch's perspective, and we could use the video of the Games to handle that section.  I get that Collins is trying to show that a girl can be the protagonist, but that's only if she's interesting.

Katniss is about as interesting as plain brown wallpaper.

Despite these problems, I do applaud Collins for trying to show some feminist tendencies in a teen character.  Unfortunately, rather than being proactive, Katniss is a reactive feminist.  "I don't want this" is fine, as she rejects the Capital, rejects the roles Gale and Peeta have for her, and rejects Haymitch for using her.  But what exactly is Katniss for?  I sure don't know.  I don't know that she does, either, and that part of why her character is lacking.  The others, who know what they want, from Snow to Cinna to even the Career tributes, are a lot more interesting as a result.

So why do The Hunger Games have so many problems?  I think I figured it out, and it didn't hit me until this book closed with the destruction of District 12:  Hunger Games is "What if Star Wars Featured Leia?"

Now, it's not fan fiction in the way that I understand 50 Shades of Gray to be.  But the concepts are extremely familiar:  A one-dimensional hero that doesn't so much fight FOR something as against it, a love triangle between a strong female and two men who are diametric opposites on the surface but are both good at the core, a ruling class that is far more technologically advanced than its citizens--except for the resistance, an unlikely alliance among disparate factions, a leader who will destroy entire planets districts to prove a point, side-character who are far more interesting than the main ones, an enigmatic mentor, and so on.

Collins is borrowing liberally from George Lucas's themes, and once I figured it out, I hit on exactly why I don't care for this story:  The more I watched Star Wars, the less I liked it.  Why would a giant tribute to that movie franchise be any different?

At first, I thought the homage to Leia and Han with Katniss' "I know" was just bad writing.  Now I see that it's part of a larger theme, which means nothing is going to get more complex or ambiguous.  The bad guys are the bad guys, the good guys are the good guys, and we'll wrap it up with hope for the future.

That's my problem with the Hunger Games.  At its core, there's no struggle, no realization that life lives in shades of gray.  I need the Roddenberry ambiguity when I read an epic story like this, and it's just not there. This book doesn't leave me fired up, it leaves me like that charcoal pit in the wind:  waiting for something to show signs of life.

Going into book three, I admit, I'm not hopeful.