Fr. Robert Barron on The Hunger Games

After I posted yesterday, I was led to this video link, in which Fr. Barron talks about The Hunger Games, and today I found this written piece (he is basically saying the same thing in each, so you may watch or read.)

And here is today's update from him, a terrific one at that:

And Now For Something Completely Different

Thanks, Jennifer Hart, aka Book Club Girl, for the heads-up about the Betsy-Tacy Convention. It's July 19-22, in Mankato, Minnesota.

So. Tempting. 

A Little Bit About The Hunger Games While I Decide Whether Or Not I Want to Write About The Hunger Games

Oh, The Hunger Games. 

There will be spoilers here, so if you've not read the book or seen the movie ...

If you don't want it spoiled for you ...

If you'd rather click away now ...

There.

Have I scrolled us down far enough to avoid spoilers?

I.

Hope.

So.

This book series has been part of my life since 2009. I read the first two books, then spent some time discerning whether or not my daughters (one of them is extremely sensitive) would even want to read them. In the end, I let them decide, knowing that we'd be discussing the books all the way. And we did. At two in the morning, for example, when Betsy finished reading the last book in the trilogy.

I've read that some people are upset because these books are "about kids killing kids." (The horror of the "games" is part of the storytelling vehicle, but that is not what the books are about. And, certainly, we are meant to be disturbed by it. Deeply so.)

I've heard from other people, fans, who were upset because the series did not have a tidy or happy ending (a happy ending would be impossible. War does not lead to happy endings.)

I've read comments by those who are horrified about "a girl who volunteers" to fight in the arena. (Katniss is not an eager or willing participant -- but when her sister's name comes up in the lottery, Katniss, desperate to save her sister, volunteers to go in Prim's place, effectively offering up her life for her sister. There is no greater love....)

You can see I'm not convinced by the naysayers. I see this series as political and cultural critique. It is about war and the ways in which power corrupts. It's about selling one's soul for a political end; it explores media manipulation, propaganda, the ethics (or lack of any) in reality TV.  It's about "bread and circuses" -- the country is not named Panem for nothing. (And, while we're on the subject of a circus, does anyone else think we already live in the world of the Panem Capitol's fashion sense?) The books ask important questions about personal choices, knowing who we are and what we want to be -- they examine the lives of people trying desperately to hold on to morality and truth in hellish circumstances.

Initially, as we are drawn into Katniss' world and the depravity of the bloodsport of the annual "games," we also find ourselves on the side of those who are plotting a rebellion against the Capitol. It's tempting to imagine a noble group of souls banding together to overthrow the evil President Snow. We want them to be noble, anyway.

We want them to be like "the boy with the bread" -- Peeta, the baker's son, who said in the first book,

"I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?" he asks.

I shake my head. How could he die as anyone but himself?

"I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not."

We want a Peeta to be in charge -- someone who can see that holding on to goodness is worth something. But when in the final book of the trilogy we meet the rebels of District 13, we find a highly rigid and militaristic group, led by the cold and calculating President Coin.

Yeah.

This is a war, and people are in it to win power. District 13, we discover, is capable of doing everything of which the Capitol was capable, right down to staging more games for revenge. President Coin is the flip side of the conflict, and the line between the good guys and bad guys has become maddeningly blurred.

We see characters making choices throughout the series that will define who they ultimately will be. Katniss's friend, Gale, hardened from years of pain, cruelty and loss, and another character (Beetee, from Catching Fire and Mockingjay) used their natural talents — combining their brilliance, hunting strategies, and battle tactics — in ways that were chilling, and were portrayed as such.

As he became more deeply involved in the rebellion, Gale chose to join a world that ultimately Katniss wouldn't accept or live in.

There is an amazing juxtaposition of songs in these books — there is one called “The Hanging Tree,” a song that Gale and Katniss share from their past. Its lyrics are an invitation to rebellion and death. They represent the fire of Gale — the fire that Katniss, in the end, rejected.

And then there is a sweet, hopeful lullaby that is used a couple of times in the series. Katniss sings it to Rue (a little girl who was forced to fight in the arena and was murdered by a brutal participant) as Rue is dying. Katniss then decorates Rue's tiny body with wildflowers and her tears. This is one of the most moving scenes in the entire series, and it's the one that blew me away. A book "about kids killing kids" shows me this? That life is precious? Yes.

We later find out, in the epilogue of the final book, that Katniss sings the lullaby now to her own children. For Katniss, the lullaby always represented hope, peace, and a kind of rebirth, which she found, in as full a way as one so wounded could, with Peeta.

The trilogy does not end "happily" exactly. Peeta and Katniss are psychologically damaged and scarred and always will be, as so many victims of wars are. And yet they married, they had children ... they did everything they could to embrace hope. There is, ultimately, a life-affirming ending, if a melancholy one.

As for our heroine, I have heard people say that they find Katniss unlikeable. There were times throughout the series when I was irritated with the character for her indecision and her flip-flopping thoughts and feelings, too.

Then I realized that Collins quite deliberately chose first-person/present tense for the book — something that is sadly but understandably lost in the movie — for exactly this reason: By living the story moment to moment with Katniss, we see her immediate responses, good, bad, and ugly. We’re privy to every awful thought that flits into her head (just the kinds of thoughts we have) and every loving impulse (just as we have) and every wrestling match, debate, and bit of confusion she experiences (just like what we endure in our heads, too.)

Katniss doesn’t act on every ugly thought or every generous impulse, and she doesn’t give voice to every mental wrestling match. Neither do we. But we have them, don't we? And in seeing her mental process, we can identify with her -- with the real Katniss that no one else sees as fully as we do.

It makes her both less likable and more so. It makes her human.

And this is YA literature, you say? Whatever happened to redheaded girls who talk too much?

Yeah, I know. And I'm not trying to convince you to read the books. I'm just saying that there's more to them than meets the eye.

So, here's the thing. I loved these books. But yes, they required loads of discussion with my daughters. Great discussions that I'm terribly glad we had. My daughters and I take these books seriously. So, yes, it bothers us a bit to think of things like gimmicky movie showings complete with games (which couldn't encourage anything but a circus atmosphere, could they?) and school re-enactments (Really?) and the fact that some kids probably laughed or cheered when certain characters in the movie met their end. But here's the other thing: the fact that there are a handful of kids in every movie theater reacting or laughing inappropriately doesn't change the fact that there are good, serious books and movies out there to be read, watched, and discussed with our kids.

Am I sad or concerned that many, many parents aren't discussing these books with their kids, and aren't discerning appropriate ages for kids to read them? Yes, I am. Just as I'm sad and concerned that many parents aren't reading anything with their kids, or talking to them about anything at all. Suzanne Collins is not the problem.

And, umm, about my post title? I guess I decided to write about The Hunger Games.

Daria Sockey Reviews After Miscarriage ...

... here, at Faith & Family.

In reference to the compilation of my own stories and those of other women, Daria gets to the heart of the book when she says they:

... form a kind of conversation, where every thought and feeling related to miscarriage is given a voice. The reader feels drawn in, and understood. Without being lectured on God’s Will and the value of suffering, she is given, by the example of the contributors, suggestions for a spiritual framework that can help her make sense out of her devastation. No one tells her what to think or feel or do. They just tell what they thought and felt and did. And what helped.

Thanks so much to Daria and to Faith & Family for featuring the book today!

Part Two of the "After Miscarriage" Interview with Pat Gohn

... of Among Women is here.

Poetry Friday

This one caught the eye of Atticus yesterday. And I agreed: 

In the heat of late afternoon, by Gary Young.

(It's short -- just click over. You can thank me later.)

~~~~~

Mary Lee at A Year of Reading has the round up today.

Snapshots of Days With Ramona

We've started putting together her anatomy project (kind of hard to see, but here it is):

She made the heart with fun foam. The intestines will be made of hot pink giant chenille stems. We're thinking we'll sew lungs from pieces of red fleece. We haven't decided what Ramona's brain will be made of. Hmmm. (The idea for this came from a very old piece of curriculum, a book entitled My Temple of the Holy Spirit.)

~~~~~

More science ... discussing acid-base reactions. Yesterday, Ramona was busy mixing an indicator solution. We ran to the store for cabbage first, of course. 

~~~~~

We watched Dolphin Tale and the next day, Ramona had decided she worked at an animal hospital. She posted the proper signage in order to keep trespassers away:

~~~~~

And, although it seems too early in Nebraska for the daffodils that Atticus brought home yesterday to be in bloom, they are lovely: 

Happy Birthday to A Wrinkle in Time

It's fifty years old!*

~~~~~

Here's an NPR story about the book, and here is one of my favorite L'Engle quotes: 

"You have to write the book that wants to be written. 

And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, 

then you write it for children." 

Rebecca Stead, author of the excellent When You Reach Me, gets it. In the NPR article, she says: 

"A Wrinkle in Time also asks these huge questions, really, about the universe, and good and evil, and the power of love, and all of this crazy science and complex ideas. It assumes that kids are able to think about all that stuff. I think that a lot of people forget that, or never realize it, but a children's book is really the best place to ask big questions. Our worlds get smaller as we get older," Stead says.

~~~~~

Here's a quick round-up of my past L'Engle posts:

Anne-with-an-e's review (written when she was 14) of A Ring of Endless Light.

Some great L'Engle quotes.
(Updated to note: I fixed the quote link and it should take you to the right location now. And, here's a link to every post in which I ever mentioned Madeleine L'Engle!)

My fangirl moment with Madeleine L'Engle.

~~~~~

And, from an online writing pal, Maria Ruiz Scaperlanda, here's a great interview from June, 2000 that ran in St. Anthony Messenger magazine.

~~~~~

*Ramona looked over my shoulder and said, "Wow, Mommy, you're older than A Wrinkle in Time." I said, "Yeah, honey, thanks for pointing that out," and she replied, "No problem. It's what I do best." 

St. Patrick's Guest Post

(from Atticus):

In keeping with tradition, here's a little Joyce to read along with your green milk or Guinness or Smithwick's or Jameson's, whatever time zone you're in:

April 16. Away! Away!

The spell of arms and voices: the white arms of roads, their promise of close embraces and the black arms of tall ships that stand against the moon, their tale of distant nations. They are held out to say: We are alone—come. And the voices say with them: We are your kinsmen. And the air is thick with their company as they call to me, their kinsman, making ready to go, shaking the wings of their exultant and terrible youth.

April 26. Mother is putting my new secondhand clothes in order. She prays now, she says, that I may learn in my own life and away from home and friends what the heart is and what it feels. Amen. So be it. Welcome, O life, I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race.

April 27. Old father, old artificer, stand me now and ever in good stead.

-- from Joyce, of course 

Catching My Breath and Catching Up

The past week has been a mishmash of various appointments, interviews, good books, Lenten assessment, confession, complaining about springing forward, thinking about college stuff, and generally wondering about what life at Walden Pond would be like.

Appointments:

Anne-with-an-e is sick, sick, sick of braces. The poor girl must have inherited all the worst of Atticus and me, dentally speaking, because it's taken her teeth more than three years to get on board with the program. Thankfully, she spotted Raina Telgemeier's book, Smile, one day on Lissa's blog. The book is geared to a young audience, but the idea works for anyone dealing with braces, I think. Now Anne can be heard to say with a sigh, "At least I'm not Raina."

Poor Betsy is suffering from some big-time tendinitis. I assume that time spent at a keyboard writing three novels and countless short stories in the last couple of years might have something to do with it. It's affecting her violin playing as well and, in short, it's a big pain the neck. Or, um, wrist. Pray it will get better soon!

Interviews:

I've linked to recent live interviews, but here's one I recorded that is now available -- Part I of a two-part interview on Pat Gohn's Among Women podcast.

As Pat explains on her blog:

Drawing on her latest book, After Miscarriage, A Catholic Woman's Companion to Healing and Hope, Karen and Pat have an extended conversation on this tender subject, that is so often hard to talk about. On this episode, they discuss the emotional upheaval of miscarriage and ways the Christian community can offering prayers of support, masses of remembrance, and assurance of the mercy of God toward a child that does not live to experience the sacrament of baptism.

Good books: 

I get to call this book terrific without sounding boastful because it's the other nine terrific women I'm boasting about. I'm privileged to be in their company. My local friends and I plan to soon have a discussion about this one (did you know that, local friends? Consider this your invitation ... ) Hallie Lord's Style, Sex and Substance is shipping again from Amazon. (Did you know it sold out the day it was released? Huzzah for Hallie!)




Lenten Assessment:

It's good to hear my stomach growl.
It's good to force myself into disciplines I despise.
It's good.

Confession:

You wouldn't really ask, would you?

College Stuff:

This really deserves its own blog post.

Complaining About Springing Forward:

I'm done. I promise.

Walden Pond:

I want it. I just want my laptop with me.

On the radio, and Bits and Pieces of Our Days

On Relevant Radio today:

8:40 a.m. (central daylight time), Morning Air with Sean Herriott, talking about Style, Sex and Substance.

1 p.m.: On Call, with Wendy Wiese, discussing After Miscarriage.

~~~~~~~~~~

Speaking of central daylight time, well, umm, I don't really want to speak of daylight savings time. Because I can't speak of it and remain calm.

Every year we do this, and every year we all complain. Then, we go to Webster's online and look up the definition of insanity and we say, "Oh! Look! It's daylight savings time! Extreme folly! Unreasonableness! Something utterly foolish!" Then we blog about it because we know people will commiserate. Then we wonder to whom we can actually complain, other than to the readers of our blogs. And yet we know that we are, for some reason of extreme folly, doomed to repeat this sad history.

Image from Stock.xchng

~~~~~~~~~~

Has anyone found a suitable methadone for Downton Abbey?

And speaking of addictions, I signed on to Pinterest, but I haven't had the mental wherewithal to enter that particular cyber opium den. I'm afeared of it, people.

~~~~~~~~~~

The best Ramona-ism of the week:

Ramona: Mommy, what's a homeschooler's favorite subject?

Me: I don't know, honey, what is it?

Ramona: Anti-social studies!

I love that kid.

~~~~~~~~~~

Donna-Marie Cooper O'Boyle reviews After Miscarriage

Donna-Marie Cooper O'Boyle, who endorsed my new book, has a lovely post about the book -- see it  here.

Thank you, Donna!

Poetry Friday

Some days it seems as if Atticus and I are in a race to The Writer's Almanac. He beat me to this one the other day, suggesting it for Poetry Friday. I am in complete agreement.

Revival 
by Luci Shaw

March. I am beginning
to anticipate a thaw. Early mornings
the earth, old unbeliever, is still crusted with frost
where the moles have nosed up their
cold castings, and the ground cover
in shadow under the cedars hasn't softened
for months, fogs layering their slow, complicated ice
...

(Read the rest here, at The Writer's Almanac.)

~~~~~

Poetry will be gathered in today at Gathering Books.

On the radio today

I'll be talking to Bob Dunning on The Bishop's Radio Hour at 11:30 a.m. central time. You can tune in online at the link. 

(Updated: Oops -- the link doesn't seem to connect to their local listening area in Sacramento, however, I should be able to post a link to the archives over the weekend.)

Ramona, Liturgical Calendar Planner

When I made our Lamb of God calendar, I wrote the date for Easter at the bottom. Apparently, however, I  wanted Lent to end extraordinarily early, as the date I posted in pretty pastels was:

MARCH 8th! 

Yes, wouldn't that be lovely?

But, alas, Easter will not arrive until April 8th. So, I had to make an adjustment -- I redid the date, and just covered that spot with the new one:

Ramona had another idea, though. She suggested that I put the Easter date on the outside of an envelope and tape that to the calendar -- with an Easter surprise inside. 

So that's what I did. 

If you'd like to hire Ramona for all your liturgical calendar needs, I'm sure she'll charge a mere chocolate bunny or two. 

Style, Sex and Substance is shipping

And I hope you pre-ordered, because it's already sold out on Amazon.

Here's an old-fashioned idea -- you can go directly to the publisher, Our Sunday Visitor, to order.

I think there are these things called bookstores, too? You might want to try one of those.

I mentioned a little more about the book here, and you can always find out more from Hallie.

And here's the lovely book trailer she put together:

"Ten Things I Will Not Think About in My Last Seconds of Life"

Poets and Writers Magazine regularly posts creative writing prompts on their website. I sometimes forward good or relevant ideas to my teens and to our writing circle. (We have a teen writing group that meets once a week.)

This week, on the 29th, the non-fiction prompt was "Ten Things I Will Not Think About in My Last Seconds of Life."  Their direction:

Give yourself ten minutes to freewrite the list, then turn the list into an essay. It can be funny, serious, or strange; the points may be connected or not. The important part is to allow yourself to linger on each item in your list and let it grow into its full potential, perhaps keeping it mind for an essay of its own. For this assignment, make sure to incorporate all ten things from the list into your essay.

Essays could, I suppose, grow out of these ideas down the road, but for now, here's my quick take:

1. The cobwebs in the corners of my house.

2. Wasted years. No year has been wasted, because every, single one has made me who I am now, and who I will be when I die.

3. What kind of car I drove. I'll be happy that I never cared. Not one bit.

4. My resume.

5. No regrets about my choice of spouse. He is perfect for me. I am not perfect in any way, and he puts up with me anyway. I am mad about him.

6. My kitchen's design.

7. Homeschooling. I can't imagine ever being sorry we made the sacrifices. And -- so far, twelve years in -- my kids can't imagine ever changing the paradigm, so I don't think it'll be on my radar in my last moments unless it is to say, "I'm so happy we created the family we had," followed by a contented sigh.

8. What shape the yard is in.

9. "I wish I'd taken the time to read poetry." Nope. Won't be on the list.

10. Coffee. I won't have to think about it because I'll have a cup in my hand.