Review
#1 New York Times Bestseller
A Publishers Weekly Bestseller
A Horn Book Fanfare
A Publishers Weekly Best Book of 2008
A School Library Journal Best Book of 2008
A Booklist Editors' Choice
A New York Times Notable Book of 2008
A Kirkus Best Book of 2008
A New York Times Book Review Editors' Choice
A USA Today Bestseller
"[The Hunger Games] is a violent, jarring, speed-rap of a novel that generates nearly constant suspense... I couldn't stop reading." — Stephen King, Entertainment Tonight
"I was so obsessed with this book that I had to take it with me out to dinner and hide it under the edge of the table so I wouldn't have to stop reading... The Hunger Games is amazing." — Stephanie Meyer
"[The Hunger Games] is a great book, and very thought-provoking. Read this along with your teen and discuss it." — Charlaine Harris
"Brilliantly plotted and perfectly paced." — John Green, New York Times Book Review
"A plot-driven blend of suspense, science fiction, and romance." — USA Today
"Enthralling, imaginative and creepy." — Los Angeles Times
"{A} superb tale" — Booklist, starred review
"Readers will wait eagerly to learn more." — Publishers Weekly, starred review
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
The moment the anthem ends, we are taken into custody. I don't mean we're handcuffed or anything, but a group of Peacekeepers marches us through the front door of the Justice Building. Maybe tributes have tried to escape in the past. I've never seen that happen though.
Once inside, I'm conducted to a room and left alone. It's the richest place I've ever been in, with thick, deep carpets and a velvet couch and chairs. I know velvet because my mother has a dress with a collar made of the stuff. When I sit on the couch, I can't help running my fingers over the fabric repeatedly. It helps to calm me as I try to prepare for the next hour. The time allotted for the tributes to say good-bye to their loved ones. I cannot afford to get upset, to leave this room with puffy eyes and a red nose. Crying is not an option. There will be more cameras at the train station.
My sister and my mother come first. I reach out to Prim and she climbs on my lap, her arms around my neck, head on my shoulder, just like she did when she was a toddler. My mother sits beside me and wraps her arms around us. For a few minutes, we say nothing. Then I start telling them all the things they must remember to do, now that I will not be there to do them for them. --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.
