Suzanne Collins has never been subtle with her commentary on propaganda and censorship. Her latest book, Sunrise on the Reaping, is no exception.
The importance of appearances is woven into the very fiber of The Hunger Games, with the televised death match fought by children expertly crafted into a narrative of honor and remembrance for a time of starvation and war. The consequences of censorship are laid out in the 2020 prequel, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, which chronicles a formative set of games for young President Coriolanus Snow who would later have any trace of District 12's first-ever win from that year stricken from history.
The latest addition to the Hunger Games universe, a second prequel titled Sunrise on the Reaping, recounts the 50th annual Hunger Games — won by Haymitch Abernathy, later mentor to Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark — including all the rebellious details that the Capitol's recollection happens to leave out. Rebel plots to disrupt the games from within, tribute deaths long before the children enter the arena, and unlikely District alliances to take out Gamemakers are presented to readers for the first time. Like the songs and name of Lucy Gray, the District 12 winner from Collins' last prequel, these details have not been lost, but have been forcefully ripped from history.
Collins' work is timely, as always. Coming at a moment when U.S. history is actively being scrubbed — from references to transgender people being erased from the Stonewall National Monument website, to Black Lives Matter plaza being renamed and repainted — this book's themes and events conjure images from our own current events.
The book opens on a young Haymitch celebrating his 16th birthday. As is the case every year, his celebration cannot be too jovial, as his birthday is also the day of the reaping — when participants for the next Hunger Games are selected. This year is particularly grim, as instead of the usual two, four children will be selected from each District to fight to the death in the upcoming games. Haymitch's birthday gifts include a treat of cornbread and warm jam made by his mother, a bottle of white liquor from the brewer he runs supplies for, and a flint striker resembling a battling song bird and snake from his lover - the first of many brutally on the nose callbacks in the novel. Haymitch is pulled into the games not exactly by reaping but not by volunteering either, and meets a cast of faces that will be familiar to old Hunger Games fans as he prepares in the Capitol.
If Collins' political commentary is glaringly obvious, yet undeniably effective, so are the retcon-esque connections drawn between Haymitch and a number of familiar characters. Haymitch, for all his drunken flaws, ultimately does whatever it takes to save Katniss and Peeta, no matter the cost. I wasn't disappointed to learn of his closeness with someone important to Katniss, or his mentorship from two previous Hunger Games victors who his own mentees might encounter later on. I was disappointed to think that Haymitch's fear could go so far that he never shared his memories with Katniss or Peeta, even after bringing the Mockingjay to the heart of the rebellion in District 13. I do not think I will be alone in wishing that his mentors, in particular, had more space on the page.
The novel draws ties between Haymitch and many major plot lines throughout the series - from Katniss' family to Snow's forbidden love. Haymitch's lover, the one that gave him the flint striker, is a girl named Lenore Dove. A Covey girl, like Lucy Gray, named after Edgar Allen Poe's Lenore. And while these connections might feel forced, like a blatant grab to milk the already popular series, the novel unearths an entire level of rebellion we have yet to see and further fleshes out the desires that drive these disturbing games in the Capitol, and the elements of rebellion against them.
Reading Sunrise on the Reaping with hindsight from The Hunger Games trilogy, one must question how such details were lost to history. What of the people who witnessed the fate of an almost-tribute in District 12? And those in the Capitol who saw the replacement of another? How far does the power of fear go in revising history, even among the witnesses? Didn't they have the power to pass down the truth, even if quietly? Do we have the same power, the same responsibility?
As a young Plutarch Heavensbee asks, "The question is, why didn't you?"
Ultimately, Sunrise on the Reaping is a reminder that regardless of the records of history (in this case, three books, four movies, a prequel, and another movie), we may not always have the full picture. In Panem, the setting for The Hunger Games which is a fictional post-apocalyptic version of North America, even Katniss and Peeta view a Capitol-cut version of Haymitch's games 25 years later, with no trace of the rebel plan detailed in this novel. So, in a rather blunt — yet effective — manner, it's as if Collins is asking us to reflect on how much we really know of our history, and how much power we have in ensuring that our current truths have a place in the future.
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