Sunrise on the Reaping
Publication date March 18, 2025
I am very torn up about this book, and not for the reason most people are—Sunrise on the Reaping, at its core, is fanservice. Hear me out.
“They will not use my tears for their entertainment.” Was that from Haymitch or did Suzanne get forced to write this?
When The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes released, I was thrilled. I devoured it in two days, and I happily dusted off my Mockingjay pin and joined the hordes of HG fans online to talk about how amazing Collins is.
I still recommend Gregor the Overlander to children I know.
Sunrise on the Reaping sparked a lot of excitement, a lot of conversation, a lot of tears, and I have to preface this by saying that I’m a firm believer that a great book elicits a strong emotional reaction.
Unfortunately, I don’t think this book was great. It was certainly fine, perhaps even good. But it wasn’t what it could have been.
flashback
Suzanne Collins originally wrote The Hunger Games as a political statement in the early 2000s in response to the Iraq War. She's mentioned finding inspiration in the juxtaposition of war broadcasting and reality TV. There’s also a clear parallel between Panem and the Roman Empire, with roots in the gladiatorial games and historical figures.
From an author’s perspective, the Roman history side is genuinely fascinating. Lucius Cornelius Sulla Felix feels like a direct parallel to Coriolanus—both powerful men who seized control of a republic. Characters like Plutarch Heavensbee have historical echoes in the Roman philosopher Plutarch, who wrote extensively on figures like Sulla and Cinna, Sulla’s enemy. Even Crassus Snow seems to tie into Marcus Licinius Crassus, “the richest man in Rome,” and a key player in the formation of the First Triumvirate with Julius Caesar (who employed a man named Cato, no less).
So yeah, if I wanted a history thesis, I’d be thrilled. But I didn’t come to Sunrise for mythology and breadcrumb trail. I came to know Haymitch. I came to see him before he was broken.
What I got instead was a parade of names and callbacks thrown in so fast it felt like Collins was trying to speedrun her own universe–the cameos, the nods, the references… some of it was fun, sure. But this was the MCU-ification of Panem.
Haymitch as a protagonist just doesn't work in this version of Suzanne's universe. His inner monologue is lifeless. His voice doesn't match the man we know—or even the boy he could have been. The humor, the wit, the weariness that defines him? Gone. Even his audiobook narrator didn’t sound convinced by him. There’s no real sense of agency. His decisions feel random, like he’s being tugged along by plot necessity instead of actual character motivation.
And the relationships? Don’t get me started. The romance with Lenore Dove is undercooked to the point of being raw–Gordon Ramsay would be disappointed. I get that the trauma of the Games makes emotions run high and teen love feel like life and death, but this love story? I felt absolutely nothing. We're told they love each other. We’re told she means everything. But the book doesn’t bother to show us why. It’s vibes only, and not even good ones.
Worse still, the book leans heavily on tropes that were done better in the original series. There’s a strained attempt to draw parallels between Haymitch and Katniss, and while I understand what Collins is trying to do—showing a legacy of rebellion, mirroring key decisions—it just doesn’t land. It’s manipulative instead of emotional. It’s plot over character, again and again.
Even the arena itself feels off. We’re at the second Quarter Quell here. The 50th Hunger Games should have been a peak Capitol spectacle. Instead, the Games feel clunky and rushed, like they were pulled together last-minute by underpaid interns (why on earth where there employees in the arena?). For a nation that’s had 49 years to refine their biggest weapon of control—how does everything still feel so juvenile? Shouldn’t the tech be better? Shouldn’t the propaganda machine be running smoother by now?
It’s made even worse by inconsistencies. Beetee and Wiress show up as mentors but they feel like completely different people. Plutarch is there, which could be great, if Hyamitch ever acted like he knew him in the original trilogy, AND if he made any consistent decisions in Sunrise.
Haymitch? He’s arguably more rebellious than Katniss. He openly defies the Capitol, talks back to officials, even comes face-to-face with President Snow himself. Yet somehow, he walks away completely untouched? No consequences? No subtle punishment, no slow-burn retaliation? It’s a plot hole so wide you could march an entire district through it. Sure, his family gets lit on fire… but do we care, when there was no build up or reason to?
While I did genuinely enjoy parts of Haymitch’s story—particularly the concept of him as a reluctant rebel navigating trauma—I had several issues with how it was executed. You’d think that doubling the number of tributes would automatically raise the stakes, but the deaths happen so abruptly that they barely register. Were they sad? Sure. But not gut-wrenching. Not visceral. There was no time to feel anything.
Even the bond between Haymitch and Maysilee—arguably the emotional centerpiece of the Games—felt underdeveloped. We're told they become like siblings. We're told there's growth. But we never see that growth. The dynamic shift happens off-page or in passing, and then suddenly we’re expected to be devastated. It doesn't work.
The worst part overall? The songs and the poetry. If less time had been spent quoting Edgar Allan Poe, there might have been more room for actual character development. I could imagine some of these moments playing better in a film adaptation with strong actors carrying the emotional weight. But as a novel? It felt juvenile, disjointed, and rushed.
I think a book about propaganda and media censorship would have been more interesting told from the other side. Give me a POV from someone complicit in making up lies. A gamemaker. Someone who undergoes a journey toward self-realization. Plutarch would have been an incredible lens for this story, or even a fresh face entirely. Collins showed us that she could write through the Capitol lens once.
I kept waiting for Sunrise to say something new. To push the narrative, the lore, the politics of Panem forward. But it never quite gets there. Instead, it settles for filling in gaps no one was really asking for.
There’s absolutely room in this universe for more stories—about power, propaganda, complicity, rebellion—but this wasn’t the one. Not like this. Not with so little substance behind the spectacle.
At best, Sunrise on the Reaping is a nostalgic detour. At worst, it’s a reminder that not every question needs an answer, and not every fan theory needs a novel. I’m grateful to have grown up with The Hunger Games, but I’m not sure I needed to come back.
And if this is the future of the franchise?
I say let the odds lie ever in our past.