It was a post about the Hunger Games. More specifically, a post about why the Hunger Games shouldn't be read/watched so widely, and how it is damaging to kids. You briefly stated your agreement.
I admit that the Hunger Games is also just a dang good story. And perhaps too many people watch/read it without realizing just how bloodthirsty we've gotten in our entertainment choices.
But I still disagree with your comment. You might not even remember doing it. It may have been no big deal to you. But it was a big deal to me.
Why?
There were several points made, which I disagree with (and have discussed in another post-in-progress). Some of them made me mad. It's ignorance at its finest.
But yours didn't make me angry. It made me sad. Sad for our society. Sad for humanity. Sad because it makes me wonder where all our courage has gone.
I do realize that we're all different. We have different tastes and different levels of sensitivity. And if you don't like the movie or the book because of those things, I can't blame you. I won't judge you. Unfortunately, I can't help but interpret your comment to mean something else.
"Saw it with my brother. Didn't like the feelings it left me with at the end."
I almost understand. No one should like watching kids die in a gladiator arena. But this is a different kind of bad feeling than a slasher flick or The Exorcist.Suzanne Collins didn't kill 22 teenagers in a brutal combat-to-the-death because she thought it would be great entertainment. And she didn't do it because she has a savage thirst for blood.
It's supposed to make us feel awkward. It's supposed to make us squirm. Only when something tosses us out of our comfort zone, do we really pay attention to the message behind it.
That bad feeling you got was there to remind you that we are all flawed. That we could all do a little better. And you know what they say: It's the guilty who take the truth hardest. In this instance, we're all guilty to some extent.
You felt it. You squirmed, just like you were supposed to. But that's where you stopped.
"Suffice it to say I read the plot of the other two books on wikipedia to satisfy my writerly curiousity about what happens next and also so that I didn't have to watch movies 2 and 3 when the eventually come out. I have enough emotional baggage without putting myself through two more of these stories. I haven't read the books and don't plan to."
You didn't like what you saw. You ran away, squealing about how it made you feel bad. You couldn't deal with a little discomfort, so you hid from it. You are a coward.
Not a coward because you can't handle death. Or because you can't handle blood. Or even because a teenage battle-to-the-death disgusts you. Anyone with an ounce of humanity would feel the same way.
But I say coward because you can't handle the truth.
See, I read it too. Watched it. Felt just as sad when innocent people died. Jumped, grabbed my knees, clutched the armrest, and even cried a little.
Then I realized exactly what it meant. That our society is not all that far from the brutality of the capital. That there is potential for good and bad in humanity. That some truly evil things have happened in the past, and could happen again.
The overwhelming horror struck me too. (see here) And I could have reacted in the same way. Sprinting out of the theatre with my tail between my legs, whimpering about how bad I feel.
But I didn't.
When I felt that horror, I also felt inspired. I was brave enough to accept that I am very flawed. I was brave enough to realize that I take things for granted, and watch people suffer without feeling anything. And I was brave enough to realize that I need to change.
I know I'm not very good at it. I still look away far too often. But at least I had the guts to accept that about myself and try to act against it. I had that one moment where I let the difficult stuff make me stronger.
Humans don't like to be told that we're not perfect. That's why the poignancy feels so uncomfortable. But only cowards revile and rebel and lash out against honest, helpful criticism.
It is not bravery to blind ourselves to our faults. It is not courage to run away from truth. Real courage is facing down our weaknesses, no matter how painful it is.
I don't know you. And I don't even know if I interpreted your words correctly. I'll probably never know. You may never read this. But here's hoping that a few more people will find their own courage when confronted with unpleasant truths. Here's to a few more wise artists giving the world a chance to see them. Here's to changing the world.
-Me
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