🌻🌻🌻🌻

DL: Did you always know you’d write a novel about the second Quarter Quell? If not, what compelled you to return to this particular point in the Hunger Games timeline?

SC: I always start with the underlying ideas—in this case, implicit submission, the uncertainty of inductive reasoning, propaganda, love—and they find their way to the story that supports them. But yes, I think I did want to do Haymitch’s story because I’ve always known that the version Katniss and Peeta saw on the train was very misleading. When I landed on implicit submission and its dependency on propaganda, Haymitch’s was the natural tale to tell. Just like the state of nature debate led naturally to Coriolanus’s story.

DL: The quote at the start of the book from the philosopher David Hume is a very telling one. It starts, “Nothing appears more surprising to those, who consider human affairs with a philosophical eye, than the easiness with which they are governed by the few; and the implicit submission, with which men resign their own sentiments and passions to those of their rulers.” This feels like a key to the entire book.

SC: If all people do is read the full Hume quote and discuss it, this book has been a win for me. This quote invites so many questions. Like, “Do you think Hume is right? As human beings, do we ultimately end up being governed by a few people? Not in, say, a totalitarian state, but in a democracy?” (After thinking about it, every single person I asked about this said yes. No one seemed happy about it.) “But why have we resigned our own sentiments and passions to those rulers? Why are we implicitly submitting to this? Especially since force is on our side, as the governed.” Hume answers that for us. We’re allowing ourselves to be controlled by “opinion.” And that’s where propaganda comes in.

All right, then, “What propaganda do we all consume on a daily basis that maintains this status quo? Is it harder to maintain in an autocracy or a democracy where we pride ourselves on our intellectual or political freedom? How much propaganda does it take to make you think that implicit submission is what you want? Is it inevitable? Is there a way to protect ourselves against it? What would that entail?”

DL: Haymitch is starting at a very different place than Katniss or Coriolanus—while his life has had its sadness, it’s largely been a good life so far. How does that change the stakes within the novel?

SC: Yes, his life has been largely good. A loving family, good friends, the love of his life. A sweet part-time job that may lead to a profitable, if illegal, career. He’s happy except for the shadow of the Games that hangs over them all. So, emotionally, his loss is the greatest because he has the most to lose. And unlike Katniss and Coriolanus, who have loved ones to the end, Snow tries to strip Haymitch of everything: family, friends, lover, job, community, happiness, and the freedom to love anyone. His personal stakes couldn’t be higher.

DL: What was it like to be creating a new work that you’d already loosely outlined in Catching Fire?

SC: Actually, it helped. Younger me provided a protagonist, his arena, his overall arc, and some of the cast, including Maysilee Donner. Having to build off the recap, not having everything to decide, meant some extra challenges on the plotting side, but ultimately it was freeing. I just had to work within what was established. Of course, knowing that the narrative had been manipulated into a piece of Capitol propaganda gave me a lot of freedom as well. 

DL: It’s such an interesting scenario, to have our very reliable narrator understand that he is surrounded by so many unreliable narrators — and that, in fact, unreliable narration is a powerful political tool. The “card-stacking” that helps him a little in the beginning (with Plutarch using the manipulation as an excuse to give Haymitch time with his family) ends up being existentially overwhelming when Haymitch watches the “recap” of the Games and realizes how history is truly written by the victory (and not the Victor). To me, this felt like the biggest revelation to Haymitch — the sheer degree of manipulation. Can you talk a little about how this revelation about propaganda sits within the larger scope of the series?

SC: After he watches the reaping on the train, Haymitch realizes that he’s the Gamemakers’ puppet and that they will manipulate his image and actions to serve their needs. Within the arena, he can only wonder what they’re showing the audience. But the full force of their deception doesn’t hit him until he sees how completely they’ve changed his story the night he’s crowned. Remember, too, that in order to appease Snow and protect his loved ones and, when that fails, to fulfill his promise to Lenore Dove, he has to carry the Gamemakers’ narrative forward as the absolute truth. It’s an enormous burden that he bears alone because all of his allies who lived the truth are dead. Keeping the real version straight in his own head while promoting the fabricated version would require constant vigilance. But deep down, even through his white liquor fog, he realizes it’s imperative that he do it. If he can’t distinguish between the two, the Capitol wins. This foreshadows Peeta’s hijacking in Mockingjay and reinforces the question the whole series asks about the information we’re consuming: “Real or not real?”

DL: If I could give you a time machine back to when you were writing Catching Fire, would you have asked yourself to do anything differently?

SC: No, but maybe in the Mockingjay book. I might have shortened the period between Haymitch being crowned victor and when he loses his family. It doesn’t need to be two weeks. Although it does give Snow an additional window to torment him in the Capitol. But really, he could have gone straight home after the Victor’s Ceremony.

DL: Besides Haymitch, was there any other character from the trilogy that you particularly enjoyed revisiting in Sunrise?

SC: I love doing all of them: Plutarch, Effie, Beetee, Mags, Wiress, Burdock, Asterid. Getting to share who they were and what motivated them. They didn’t arise fully formed in the trilogy. All the characters are on journeys. Beetee losing Ampert, Effie clinging to her Capitol beliefs, Asterid healing the sick in 12, Plutarch still staying in the games. Everybody has their own story.

DL: One of the most fascinating things about seeing the Games play out over time — going from the Tenth to the Fiftieth to the Seventy-fourth and Seventy-fifth — is understanding both the evolution of the Games and the evolution of the roles within the Games. In particular, I’d love to ask you about the contrast between Drusilla and the Effie of the Trilogy. There seems to be a profound generational difference that shapes their view of their role in the Games — and, indeed, seeing the start of Effie’s relationship here made me suddenly understand the dynamic that must have governed District 12 tributes for the next twenty-five years. Can you talk about what makes Drusilla tick versus what ultimately makes Effie tick?

SC: As escorts, both Drusilla and Effie are ambassadors for the Hunger Games. Drusilla who lived through the cruelties of the Dark Days, has channeled her experience into vengeance against the districts. She’s dehumanized her enemy, referring to them as beasts and pigs, and she has no qualms about ushering the piglets into the arena. Effie, born decades after the war, has embraced the Hunger Games as her patriotic duty. She’s been raised on them as necessary evil and a reminder of a war that Panem can never afford to repeat. Unlike Drusilla, she believes all the participants have a noble role to play. That begins to wear thin over the years. Every Games it becomes harder to justify the atrocity. You can see her clinging to good manners for reassurance of humanity’s decency. But in terms of the Hunger Games, Effie being assigned as their escort was a lucky break for District 12. She might be ridiculous, but she’s not malicious.

DL: Even though Maysilee is mentioned in Catching Fire, we really get to know her for the first time in this book. In many ways, she’s not so much defined by her privilege as she is by her lack of control over her life — when we first talked about her, you said she was “indentured into a life she doesn’t want.” What do you think fuels Maysilee, both in the arena and out of it?

SC: Rage. She’s one of the angriest characters I’ve ever written. She’s mad about the injustice of the world she’s born into and not it threatens and limits her life on every level. Before she’s reaped, that just manifests as meanness. But once she’s reaped, she begins to evolve and focus that emotion on the Capitol. She remembers who the enemy is.

DL: Snow makes quite an appearance when he arrives at Plutarch’s apartment. What was it like to see him in this era, after spending so much time with his younger self when writing Ballad?

SC: When I started working on this book, for the first time Snow and I were about the same age. We’re both entering our third act. I could feel his middle-agedness in mind and body, imagine his lost and realized dreams, and sense the cost of maintaining them. He's devoted his whole life to controlling Panem. But the work will never be done. It's exhausting.

Emotionally, he's beginning to reflect back on his life. His loves and losses. His resentment at the Heavensbee library when his own childhood books were burned for warmth, his cynicism over Haymitch's romance, his fear and loathing of District 12. I enjoyed having Lucy Gray's memory rise up and disrupt his life.

DL: And poor Haymitch doesn't even know why he's setting Snow off! But that does lead me to a question about Lenore Dove, who has grown up in a very different Covey world than Lucy Gray. How do you feel her outlook is shaped by her Covey roots?

SC: Lenore Dove romanticizes the Covey's prewar days as itinerant musicians on the open road. She also knows the losses that followed, the murdered parents and orphaned Covey children. And in particular, she's haunted by the fate of Lucy Gray. She wears bright bits of Lucy Gray's dress about her person and keeps her forbidden lyrics alive in private performances for Haymitch and Burdock. The Capitol has never meant anything but oppression and pain for her people; and that fuels her desire to bring it down.

DL: And how did Poe become such a part of the book?

SC: Haymitch's love needed a name. Since she's Covey, that starts with a ballad. I knew she'd died young, as Haymitch mentions this in Mockingjay. So, love of his life - her early death + his relentless grief = Edgar Allan Poe. I’m right back at the Romantic poets again. Even then, I’ve got several poems to choose from — “Annabel Lee,” “Ulalume,” “Lenore,” “To One in Paradise” — but I couldn’t resist “The Raven.”

DL: One of the things I love about Ballad and Sunrise is that they make the series much more about “the long game,” showing that the events of the trilogy don’t happen because the right girl shows up at the right time, but because of decades of planning. In many ways, Plutarch’s extremely ambiguous role is the biggest acknowledgment we have of long-game tactics. I don’t want you to try to pin him down here — I know he is ambiguous for a reason — but perhaps you could discuss his role.

SC: Plutarch’s the master of the long game. In Sunrise, we see him as a young man who’s convinced the government needs overthrowing, but he’s just taking his first baby steps. by the time we get to the trilogy, he’s masterminding the rebellion. He’s built a network in both the districts and the Capitol. He’s found an army in District 13 and allied with Coin. When Katniss shows up, he’s got a Mockingjay for his propaganda. He orchestrates the Airtime Assault that brings down the Capitol. And he manages to do all of this while convincingly playing a Gamemaker.

He doesn’t glorify humanity. At the end of the war, he tells Katniss, “We’re fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction. Although who knows? Maybe this will be it, Katniss.” And when she asks what, he answers “The time it sticks. Maybe we are witnessing the evolution of the human race.” So, at heart, he’s an optimist. He doesn’t accept that war and self-destruction are inevitable. Plutarch believes that we’re all on a continuum. We’re all ultimately playing the long game. You may fight your whole life for a greater good and never see the fruits of your labor. Plenty of people have done that historically. And so he tells Haymitch, “You were capable of imagining a different future. And maybe it won’t be realized today, maybe not in our lifetime. Maybe it will take generations. We’re all part of a continuum. Does that make it pointless?” I think that’s a question we all have to ask ourselves.

DL: When we first discussed the manuscript, you told me, “Books are part of Plutarch’s privilege.” In seeming contrast, there is the transmission of stories through song that we see echoing within Haymitch. I’d love for you to share more about this and the role books and songs play in the storytelling within this series.

SC: The Heavensbees have enormous wealth and privilege and, largely thanks to Trajan Heavensbee, that has allowed them to collect and protect an impressive library. The only other personal collection we’re sure exists belongs to the Covey. Much smaller, of course, but it’s apparently got some great books in it. Poetry, philosophy, literature, and at least one guide to raising poultry. The only book the Everdeens owned was the edible and medicinal plant guide they made themselves. That expands into the memorial book at the end.

District 12 doesn’t have many books, but they have plenty of songs. Why? Because a book can be burned, but you can’t burn a song. It can be passed along from person to person without a trace, no physical form required. Theoretically, you could commit a book to memory, like in Fahrenheit 451, but that’s a talent not everybody’s going to share.

By the trilogy, the songs have been discouraged as well. Under Snow, the live music in 12 devolves from the Covey performing in the Hob in The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes to a trio of instrumentalists in Sunrise on the Reaping to a lone fiddler (Clerk Carmine) in the trilogy. Lucy Gray’s songs, which Katniss sings unaccompanied in the trilogy, are held in memory and are passed along orally. Snow would love to stamp them out entirely, not just because he doesn’t like music, but because they’re powerful politically. A protest song like “The Goose and the Common” can articulate an injustice, stir people up, and become a rallying point.

DL: Just because you mentioned it, I’m going to ask: Are Snow and Clerk Carmine the only two people we see in Ballad, Sunrise, and the trilogy? (I won’t ask what Tigris is up to during Sunrise, but whatever it is, I know it’s good.)

SC: Yes, I think it does come down to Snow and Clerk Carmine. A handful of Snow’s classmates might still be around by the trilogy, but they’re not named characters.

DL: I’m fascinated by the surface similarity of Katniss’s, Coriolanus’s, and Haymitch’s family structures. All have dead fathers. All are being raised by a mother or grandmother. All have a single sibling or cousin in their care. But even if the structures are alike, their experiences vary. In what ways do you think they were shaped similarly by this structure and in what ways were their upbringings different?

SC: You see this a lot in books for young audiences, where the protagonist is orphaned or placed outside of parental protection, leaving them to fend for themselves. It requires them to be responsible for their own survival and choices.

Haymitch has always had at least one functional parent, which is not true of the others. I think this has allowed him to be more open-hearted and optimistic than the other two heading into the story. Coriolanus is orphaned during the war and his grandmother does an impressive job keeping him and Tigris alive, but by the time that book opens she lives in her own world and her grandchildren care for her. Katniss loses her mother to grief and depression when her father dies and becomes her family's provider and protector at age eleven. Haymitch doesn't have to take full responsibility for himself until he's reaped.

DL: The role of the sibling (and I count Tigris as a sibling) is also so important within the series, to the degree that, in this book, becoming a "found" sibling is the highest mark of trust. Can you talk about exploring that dynamic within the series?

SC: In Ballad, when Coriolanus is filling out Lucy Gray's questionnaire and there's no place to record her cousins, he thinks, "There should be a place for anyone who cared for you at all. In fact, maybe that should be the question to start with: Who cares about you? Or even better, Who can you count on?" There's the family you're born into and the family you choose. All the protagonists have trustworthy families to begin with, but they adopt "found" siblings as well and those bonds are born of experience. Maysilee for Haymitch, Finnick for Katniss, even Sejanus for Coriolanus. People who care about you that you can count on. They replicate the natural sibling bond and aren't limited by biology. All of them ultimately find siblings among people they once viewed as antagonists.

DL: With the Newcomers, we see a different angle to the presentation of alliances within the Games — and in some ways, this alliance is in conversation with the alliance that forms in Catching Fire. In many ways, alliances are the unsung hero of the series, especially when we look at the long game. What does Ampert establish with the Newcomers that echoes throughout the series?

SC: Ampert’s laying the groundwork for the rebellion later with the district alliance in the third Quarter Quell. It’s a work in progress. Even in the trilogy, we’re well into the war before the rebels finally get all the districts on board. But Ampert’s message wins out. “We don’t have to put up with living under the Capitol’s rule. We have greater numbers, more power, more strength. We can change our lives.”

DL: I love how within Sunrise we see how Mags’s and Wiress’s mentoring styles contrast — and neither one is at all like Haymitch’s mentoring style in the trilogy. I can’t believe I’ve never asked you this question before, but of all the characters we’ve seen across the five books, which one would you most want to be your mentor?

SC: Haymitch, but not until the trilogy when he pulls himself together. Before that, I think I’d go with Mags, who’s brought home several victors while retaining her humanity.

DL: How thoroughly do you outline before you start writing?

SC: Pretty thoroughly, this time more than usual. I started with Post-its and laid out everything that was established about the second Quarter Quell in the version that Katniss and Peeta watch on the train in Catching Fire. Then I added in a few things that Haymitch mentions to Katniss in Mockingjay. And finally, I overlaid that with the story of what really happened. Additionally, I had to weave in characters and events from the past and the future.

There are a lot of balls to keep in the air. Multiple versions exist of, say, the reaping: the one we live through with Haymitch, where Woodbine gets killed; a second that’s aired to the public after the delay; a third of Plutarch’s card-stacked edit that they broadcast the night of the reaping that includes footage of Ma and Sid; and a fourth version played during Haymitch’s Victor’s Ceremony, which seems quite close to the one Katniss and Peeta view, but it could have been tweaked a bit over time. It’s a lot to keep straight.

DL: In terms of the smaller connections between this book and the other books (like the use of the word sweetheart or the presence of geese in Haymitch’s early story), were these things you knew going into the book from the start, or were they things that happened when you were putting words to the page?

SC: These were things I knew about, but I didn’t know if I’d ever write Haymitch’s story and have the opportunity to lay in their history. So many things are like that when you’re building a world. But Haymitch’s decision to tend geese at the end of Mockingjay wasn’t random.