*** CAUTION!!! SPOILERS!!! ***

Nothing I've read has ever moved me like this book. Suzanne Collins has written a trilogy that has festered in my soul since finishing Mockingjay back in August.

The world filled my senses. I could taste the soup. I could hear the crunch of the bones as Katniss walked through what was left of District 12. I could smell the hospital and the sweat. I could feel Katniss's tears. I wanted to reach through the book and rescue Peeta, and when they mind-raped him, I cried.

I've heard people complain about the deaths. "Not necessary," someone cried. But Hunger Games isn't entertainment. Mockingjay is a story about war. One death was the loss of potential. A girl with hopes and dreams, plans for her future. Killed by a bomb. A man who finally marries the love of his life. It was potential realized. Someone needed him. He finally found peace in a lifetime of tragedy.

In the words of Arya, "...this book wasn't "fun". It was horrible, but it was beautiful."

My husband read the book first. "A happy ending?" I asked him.

"It was the right ending," he answered.

This isn't the story of victory. This is the story of war. And for every victory, Katniss and Peeta took deep wounds to their spirits, until their souls were empty. As Arya said, horrible.

And yet when Peeta planted the primroses next to Katniss's house, it was beautiful.

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