The Pen and the Arena: Storytelling as Resistance in ‘Sunrise on the Reaping’

Sunrise on the Reaping is the fifth novel in The Hunger Games series, this time telling Haymitch’s story at the 50th Hunger Games, the Second Quarter Quell. If you’ve read the original trilogy, you know that Haymitch’s year involved a whopping 48 tributes instead of the usual 24 and that he became the victor as the arrogant lone wolf with whom we are so familiar. We also know that his family and girlfriend were killed by the Capitol following the Games to ensure his obedience to Panem.

We know the story. Just like all previous Hunger Games, it is a brutal and heartwrenchingly sad tale. What else can be told about it?

The book’s tagline says it all: “When you’ve been set up to lose everything you love, what is there left to fight for?”

As anticipated, the book is not for the faint of heart. True to form, the killing of children by other children remains chilling and nausea-inducing.

Why read it at all, then?

Upon a surface reading, Sunrise on the Reaping seems a boring tale. At the very least, it’s one that we’ve heard several times before. Yes, yes, we know! There’s a Reaping followed by Capitol training, followed by the Games—finally!—which are oh so brutal and the victor wins by a hair, only to discover that the Capitol will always and forever play games with them and there is no winning.

Oh, but it is so much more than that.

This is the power of good storytelling. It is rare that good storytelling simply tells a story.

Suzanne Collins’ world of Panem has pulled back the layers of autocratic society, left us questioning the nature of evil, and caused us to consider the power of the few over so many. In a similar manner to The Handmaid’s Tale and Animal Farm, she spins a tale so compelling that the reader leaves its pages wondering at her depth of sociopolitical commentary and insight into human nature.

The Pacing is Weird

Firstly, the pacing is off… but not really. A considerable amount of page time is spent in the pre-Games: Haymitch interacts with his family, his girl, and his co-tributes; he builds alliances; he undergoes the interview with Caesar Flickerman and is ranked by the Gamemakers. Too much time, you might say. Let’s get on with the Games!

But the reader must remember that this is Haymitch’s memoir, so he’s spending a lot of time in the “happy” part of his story. He details his interactions with his family, Lenore, and the allies. These are the moments that matter to him—a moment in the Meadow, braiding necklaces for other tributes, becoming friends with other tributes. These tributes, whose lives will be erased by the Capitol, are honoured as he tells their story.

When their deaths happen, they happen quickly. Haymitch brutally and efficiently describes their violent deaths by fluffy carnivorous squirrels and giant pink flamingo-like birds or by other tribes. He’s not cold and callous toward them, despite how his narration reads. He’s traumatized by these deaths, and though he does not ignore them, he does not wish to linger on them, either.

The story’s odd pacing tells Haymitch’s story in a way that only Haymitch can. It is a brilliant display of the power of the narrator. He tells the story as he chooses, which is to draw attention to the lives lived before the Games—to emphasize the goodness and wholeness of relationships between family, friends, and tributes outside of the brutal Games and the Capitol’s influence.

Power Lies with the One Who Holds the Pen

Secondly, Haymitch is quickly pulled into grander schemes to subvert and overthrow the Capitol. Initially, it feels a bit like fan fiction as nearly every person who has ever appeared in the original trilogy is presented—Wiress, Mags, Effie, Plutarch, and Beetee. However, one gradually realizes that the plot to overthrow the Capitol has been in play for decades by the time Katniss arrives on the scene, and these have been key players the entire time.

Haymitch is the rebels’ first blatant attempt to ‘break’ the Games (as far as we know). His attempts to do so are clumsy but more insightful than one might presume from Katniss’s Games. His every action is calculated. He is constantly aware of the watching Gamemakers. His awareness far supersedes Katniss’s in the later Games.

This is an element in which the Capitol becomes gradually more sophisticated over time. In Sunrise, we are privy to the machinations of how the mutts enter the arena and the physical maintenance of the arena by unfortunate Gamemakers. By the time we arrive at the original trilogy, the Gamemakers are nowhere to be found, pulling strings from above like hidden gods.

With Haymitch’s victory (which he really did not expect), the Capitol begins pulling the strings of the narrative, weaving a tale of an arrogant boy who happened upon enough luck to see him to victory.

The reader knows the real story, but Panem never will.

Collins isn’t subtle about the powers of propaganda here. Those who hold the pen write the story, and the audience is oblivious to the truth.

Power is Used to Silence

Finally, Haymitch is silenced by brute force and manipulation. It’s no spoiler to those who have read Mockingjay; Haymitch loses his family, home, and the girl he loved. He spirals into substance abuse to numb his utter devastation. The Capitol drives its point home—the Victor will never win.

He won the Games by mistake. He never truly thought he’d win. He wasn’t there for the winning but to destroy the Games from within.

By sheer luck and gutsiness, he won. And he lost everything.

Katniss will rise in another 24 years. She, too, wins by the skin of her teeth, this time garnering enough popularity from the Capitol to tie Snow’s hands, preventing him from destroying her as he had so many Victors before. This time, enough pawns are in play to spark a successful rebellion.

She’s just like Haymitch, but “luckier, or with better timing.”

If The Ballad was about the nature of humanity and the origin of evil, Sunriseis about the power of propaganda and implicit submission to the powers. Who decides who is in power? Who keeps them in power? How can the powers be overturned?

Those who are tired of the Hunger Games series are missing the political dissection that Collins is so good at. She may have just offered us the most powerful anti-propaganda literature of 2025. It’s not just about the Games. It’s about spinning the tale—who’s telling the story?

We hear Haymitch’s perspective this time, and it is consistent with a man telling the story of his trauma. We hear how it butts up against the power-controlled narrative of the Capitol. We hear his grief and pain. We are witnesses.

How will we respond?