Catching Fire, Chapter 17
May. 16th, 2011 09:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
farlaLast time on Catching Fire, Katniss hung a dummy.
The effect on the Gamemakers is immediate and satisfying. Several let out small shrieks. Others lose their grips on their wineglasses, which shatter musically against the ground. Two seem to be considering fainting. The look of shock is unanimous.
Now I have Plutarch Heavensbee's attention. He stares steadily at me as the juice from the peach he crushed in his hand runs through his fingers.
This is total bullshit. They watch kids die for entertainment while they're served by mutilated slaves. No one would be this ~shocked~ by hanging a dummy with a guy's name on it.
turn to go, but at the last moment I can't resist tossing the container of berry juice over my shoulder. I can hear the contents splatter against the dummy while a couple more wineglasses break.
They see actual blood from actual kids all the time. They're not gonna lose it over red juice.
That surprised them, I think. It was rash and dangerous and no doubt I will pay for it ten times over.
So we're just repeating last book again. Fuck. Well, on the one hand she's not stupidly sobbing into her pillow this time. On the other, I hate characters who are stupidly mouthy and proud of it but then get rewarded anyway.
What happens in training is highly secretive, so there's no point in taking action against me when no one will know what my transgression was.
This continues to make no sense.
It never makes sense that it's some huge secret. It certainly makes no sense to assume that it's not just secret to the capital people in general but also somehow even the government respects their secrecy.
In fact, last year I was rewarded for my brashness.
Of all the things the book retcons and it can't leaves this dumb bit in?
So we find out what Peeta did.
I painted a picture of Rue,” Peeta says. “How she looked after Katniss had covered her in flowers.”
Except Peeta wasn't there and they never showed it on TV because it's one of those things arbitrarily designated as rebellious.
“I'm not sure. I just wanted to hold them accountable, if only for a moment,” says Peeta. “For killing that little girl.”
YOU'RE A FUCKING MURDERER STOP BEING SELF-RIGHTEOUS AND FEEL REMORSE YOU PSYCHOPATH
“This is dreadful.” Effie sounds like she's about to cry. “That sort of thinking ... it's forbidden, Peeta. Absolutely. You'll only bring down more trouble on yourself and Katniss.”
See, Effie's a good person. She knows things are dangerous and she worries about others instead of grand stupid gestures and sociopathy.
“I guess this is a bad time to mention I hung a dummy and painted Seneca Crane's name on it,” I say.
Stop being such a sue, Katniss.
Peeta and I each pull a twelve, we make Hunger Games history.
I just.
This book is shit.
I will be more valuable dead. They can turn me into some kind of martyr for the cause and paint my face on banners, and it will do more to rally people than anything I could do if I was living.
This is completely true and yet Katniss obviously isn't going to die so the book is basically pointing out plot holes in advance.
She and Peeta spend a day hanging out in the garden together.
Why did you do it, anyway?” he says.
“I don't know. To show them that I'm more than just a piece in their Games?” I say.
Except of course she's still going to be a piece in their games. The difference between killing everyone but herself to survive and killing everyone but Peeta so he'll survive is academic.
The next day her prep team is still a wreak.
My prep team. My foolish, shallow, affectionate pets, with their obsessions with feathers and parties, nearly break my heart with their good-bye.
Meanwhile, the continual way they're referred to as subhuman kills any sympathy chance the book has of ever making me feel sympathetic. They're human beings. They're responsible for their own actions and also, not pets.
It's so barbaric, the president turning my bridal gown into my shroud, that the blow strikes home, leaving me with a dull ache inside.
As I mentioned last time, barbaric doesn't just mean "I don't like this." In general, the world choice in this book is sloppy and terrible. This is inexcusable writing. What the president is doing here is cruel, not barbaric.
Anyway, the dress is oddly heavy.
“Now, Katniss, because this bodice is so fitted, I don't want you raising your arms above your head. Well, not until you twirl, anyway.”
“Will I be twirling again?” I ask, thinking of my dress last year.
“I'm sure Caesar will ask you. And if he doesn't, you suggest it yourself. Only not right away. Save it for your big finale,” Cinna instructs me.
Katniss, true to established form, yet again lets this kind of thing pass over her head. Why are people so in love with main characters that can't figure anything out?
I realize everyone's staring daggers at my wedding dress. Are they jealous of its beauty? The power it might have to manipulate the crowd?
Finally Finnick says, “I can't believe Cinna put you in that thing.”
“He didn't have any choice. President Snow made him,” I say, somewhat defensively. I won't let anyone criticize Cinna.
Cashmere tosses her flowing blond curls back and spits out, “Well, you look ridiculous!” She grabs her brother's hand and pulls him into place to lead our procession onto the stage. The other tributes begin to line up as well. I'm confused because, while they all are angry, some are giving us sympathetic pats on the shoulder, and Johanna Mason actually stops to straighten my pearl necklace.
“Make him pay for it, okay?” she says.
I love that Katniss assumes everyone's just being a jealous bitch while they're all feeling bad for her. Also, this implies that Katniss' endless gushing about how awesome she looks should be taken with a few piles of salt.
Anyway, while Katniss was hating on the other tributes and complaining about how social they're being, it turns out they organized a plan.
Cashmere starts the ball rolling with a speech about how she just can't stop crying when she thinks of how much the people in the Capitol must be suffering because they will lose us. Gloss recalls the kindness shown here to him and his sister. Beetee questions the legality of the Quell in his nervous, twitchy way, wondering if it's been fully examined by experts of late. Finnick recites a poem he wrote to his one true love in the Capitol, and about a hundred people faint because they're sure he means them. By the time Johanna Mason gets up, she's asking if something can't be done about the situation. Surely the creators of the Quarter Quell never anticipated such love forming between the victors and the Capitol. No one could be so cruel as to sever such a deep bond. Seeder quietly ruminates about how, back in District 11, everyone assumes President Snow is all-powerful. So if he's all-powerful, why doesn't he change the Quell? And Chaff, who comes right on her heels, insists the president could change the Quell if he wanted to, but he must not think it matters much to anyone.
By the time I'm introduced, the audience is an absolute wreck. People have been weeping and collapsing and even calling for change. The sight of me in my white silk bridal gown practically causes a riot.
Look at them working together! Why can't these sort of people be our main characters?
The whole thing is ridiculous, but if we accept the setup, this is the best way of dealing with it. They obviously planned out the various stages, so that each person would move the narrative another few inches.
Anyway, it's time for her to twirl.
When I hear the screams of the crowd, I think it's because I must look stunning.
But actually it's because her dress just lit on fire. This is so over the top I'm almost willing to believe the author actually does intend Katniss to come off as that self-centered.
I'm in a dress of the exact design of my wedding dress, only it's the color of coal and made of tiny feathers. Wonderingly, I lift my long, flowing sleeves into the air, and that's when I see myself on the television screen. Clothed in black except for the white patches on my sleeves. Or should I say my wings.
Because Cinna has turned me into a mockingjay
It's the lifting arms bit that kills me. Just picture how ridiculous that would look, her suddenly raising her arms after all that just so she can show that off. It isn't even necessary, because she raised her arms when she twirled so her arms should still be in the air and showing that off.
But anyway. Cinna has finally done something that's actually awesome, as opposed to doing his job as a good part of the childmurder games and getting inexplicably praised for it. It's a petty gesture, but it's also the only one he can make and he made it instead of some stupid excuses about how it'd only work if all fashion designers did it at once or something so he wouldn't try. Can we hope for the same for Katniss?
Well, probably not, but it's a nice thought.
The effect on the Gamemakers is immediate and satisfying. Several let out small shrieks. Others lose their grips on their wineglasses, which shatter musically against the ground. Two seem to be considering fainting. The look of shock is unanimous.
Now I have Plutarch Heavensbee's attention. He stares steadily at me as the juice from the peach he crushed in his hand runs through his fingers.
This is total bullshit. They watch kids die for entertainment while they're served by mutilated slaves. No one would be this ~shocked~ by hanging a dummy with a guy's name on it.
turn to go, but at the last moment I can't resist tossing the container of berry juice over my shoulder. I can hear the contents splatter against the dummy while a couple more wineglasses break.
They see actual blood from actual kids all the time. They're not gonna lose it over red juice.
That surprised them, I think. It was rash and dangerous and no doubt I will pay for it ten times over.
So we're just repeating last book again. Fuck. Well, on the one hand she's not stupidly sobbing into her pillow this time. On the other, I hate characters who are stupidly mouthy and proud of it but then get rewarded anyway.
What happens in training is highly secretive, so there's no point in taking action against me when no one will know what my transgression was.
This continues to make no sense.
It never makes sense that it's some huge secret. It certainly makes no sense to assume that it's not just secret to the capital people in general but also somehow even the government respects their secrecy.
In fact, last year I was rewarded for my brashness.
Of all the things the book retcons and it can't leaves this dumb bit in?
So we find out what Peeta did.
I painted a picture of Rue,” Peeta says. “How she looked after Katniss had covered her in flowers.”
Except Peeta wasn't there and they never showed it on TV because it's one of those things arbitrarily designated as rebellious.
“I'm not sure. I just wanted to hold them accountable, if only for a moment,” says Peeta. “For killing that little girl.”
YOU'RE A FUCKING MURDERER STOP BEING SELF-RIGHTEOUS AND FEEL REMORSE YOU PSYCHOPATH
“This is dreadful.” Effie sounds like she's about to cry. “That sort of thinking ... it's forbidden, Peeta. Absolutely. You'll only bring down more trouble on yourself and Katniss.”
See, Effie's a good person. She knows things are dangerous and she worries about others instead of grand stupid gestures and sociopathy.
“I guess this is a bad time to mention I hung a dummy and painted Seneca Crane's name on it,” I say.
Stop being such a sue, Katniss.
Peeta and I each pull a twelve, we make Hunger Games history.
I just.
This book is shit.
I will be more valuable dead. They can turn me into some kind of martyr for the cause and paint my face on banners, and it will do more to rally people than anything I could do if I was living.
This is completely true and yet Katniss obviously isn't going to die so the book is basically pointing out plot holes in advance.
She and Peeta spend a day hanging out in the garden together.
Why did you do it, anyway?” he says.
“I don't know. To show them that I'm more than just a piece in their Games?” I say.
Except of course she's still going to be a piece in their games. The difference between killing everyone but herself to survive and killing everyone but Peeta so he'll survive is academic.
The next day her prep team is still a wreak.
My prep team. My foolish, shallow, affectionate pets, with their obsessions with feathers and parties, nearly break my heart with their good-bye.
Meanwhile, the continual way they're referred to as subhuman kills any sympathy chance the book has of ever making me feel sympathetic. They're human beings. They're responsible for their own actions and also, not pets.
It's so barbaric, the president turning my bridal gown into my shroud, that the blow strikes home, leaving me with a dull ache inside.
As I mentioned last time, barbaric doesn't just mean "I don't like this." In general, the world choice in this book is sloppy and terrible. This is inexcusable writing. What the president is doing here is cruel, not barbaric.
Anyway, the dress is oddly heavy.
“Now, Katniss, because this bodice is so fitted, I don't want you raising your arms above your head. Well, not until you twirl, anyway.”
“Will I be twirling again?” I ask, thinking of my dress last year.
“I'm sure Caesar will ask you. And if he doesn't, you suggest it yourself. Only not right away. Save it for your big finale,” Cinna instructs me.
Katniss, true to established form, yet again lets this kind of thing pass over her head. Why are people so in love with main characters that can't figure anything out?
I realize everyone's staring daggers at my wedding dress. Are they jealous of its beauty? The power it might have to manipulate the crowd?
Finally Finnick says, “I can't believe Cinna put you in that thing.”
“He didn't have any choice. President Snow made him,” I say, somewhat defensively. I won't let anyone criticize Cinna.
Cashmere tosses her flowing blond curls back and spits out, “Well, you look ridiculous!” She grabs her brother's hand and pulls him into place to lead our procession onto the stage. The other tributes begin to line up as well. I'm confused because, while they all are angry, some are giving us sympathetic pats on the shoulder, and Johanna Mason actually stops to straighten my pearl necklace.
“Make him pay for it, okay?” she says.
I love that Katniss assumes everyone's just being a jealous bitch while they're all feeling bad for her. Also, this implies that Katniss' endless gushing about how awesome she looks should be taken with a few piles of salt.
Anyway, while Katniss was hating on the other tributes and complaining about how social they're being, it turns out they organized a plan.
Cashmere starts the ball rolling with a speech about how she just can't stop crying when she thinks of how much the people in the Capitol must be suffering because they will lose us. Gloss recalls the kindness shown here to him and his sister. Beetee questions the legality of the Quell in his nervous, twitchy way, wondering if it's been fully examined by experts of late. Finnick recites a poem he wrote to his one true love in the Capitol, and about a hundred people faint because they're sure he means them. By the time Johanna Mason gets up, she's asking if something can't be done about the situation. Surely the creators of the Quarter Quell never anticipated such love forming between the victors and the Capitol. No one could be so cruel as to sever such a deep bond. Seeder quietly ruminates about how, back in District 11, everyone assumes President Snow is all-powerful. So if he's all-powerful, why doesn't he change the Quell? And Chaff, who comes right on her heels, insists the president could change the Quell if he wanted to, but he must not think it matters much to anyone.
By the time I'm introduced, the audience is an absolute wreck. People have been weeping and collapsing and even calling for change. The sight of me in my white silk bridal gown practically causes a riot.
Look at them working together! Why can't these sort of people be our main characters?
The whole thing is ridiculous, but if we accept the setup, this is the best way of dealing with it. They obviously planned out the various stages, so that each person would move the narrative another few inches.
Anyway, it's time for her to twirl.
When I hear the screams of the crowd, I think it's because I must look stunning.
But actually it's because her dress just lit on fire. This is so over the top I'm almost willing to believe the author actually does intend Katniss to come off as that self-centered.
I'm in a dress of the exact design of my wedding dress, only it's the color of coal and made of tiny feathers. Wonderingly, I lift my long, flowing sleeves into the air, and that's when I see myself on the television screen. Clothed in black except for the white patches on my sleeves. Or should I say my wings.
Because Cinna has turned me into a mockingjay
It's the lifting arms bit that kills me. Just picture how ridiculous that would look, her suddenly raising her arms after all that just so she can show that off. It isn't even necessary, because she raised her arms when she twirled so her arms should still be in the air and showing that off.
But anyway. Cinna has finally done something that's actually awesome, as opposed to doing his job as a good part of the childmurder games and getting inexplicably praised for it. It's a petty gesture, but it's also the only one he can make and he made it instead of some stupid excuses about how it'd only work if all fashion designers did it at once or something so he wouldn't try. Can we hope for the same for Katniss?
Well, probably not, but it's a nice thought.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-05-17 02:41 am (UTC)I was going to say that Cinna could have warned her what would happen, so she didn't set it off at the wrong time, but then I realised that that may have been unfeasible, as designers are probably watched too. :p
(I wonder what Portia thinks, as she may be implicated?)
I'm using Kyubey again because I like to be ironic
Date: 2011-05-17 03:21 am (UTC)-pets
-PETS
Shut the hell up, Katniss. Just...shut up.
Re: I'm using Kyubey again because I like to be ironic
Date: 2011-05-17 07:12 am (UTC)Re: I'm using Kyubey again because I like to be ironic
Date: 2011-05-17 07:21 am (UTC)I don't know, I'd personally not like to have smart, thinking people with compassion around children I'm killing horribly. Who knows?
/random theories
But, yeah. One of the reasons I was very glad about moving on from Catching Fire.
really this post was just an excuse to use this iconRe: I'm using Kyubey again because I like to be ironic
Date: 2011-05-17 10:09 am (UTC)I just found it really hard to keep cool when she describes them as beingshallow affectionate, pets. Especially after coming in the heels of the primping and fashionable chapters.
With my apologies again to Farla
Date: 2011-05-17 10:16 am (UTC)An interesting idea! Maybe some of the Capitol's population have been magic scienced from actual pets and that's why they couldn't feel too bad for the childmurder games. Unlikely but...
I've seen the word "pet" used affectionately but I don't Katniss is being affectionate here. Is she thinking of the most wonderful and brilliant Cinna as her adoring pet too? :/ :/ :/
Kyubey can't feel sorry for cattle like us. D:no subject
Date: 2011-05-17 05:34 pm (UTC)Re: I'm using Kyubey again because I like to be ironic
Date: 2011-05-17 05:36 pm (UTC)Re: I'm using Kyubey again because I like to be ironic
Date: 2011-05-17 05:39 pm (UTC)Plus the whole idea of the games requires we believe that the people of the capital are normally totally okay about killing children.
no subject
Date: 2011-07-08 06:41 pm (UTC)