A world away

At 4am this morning, I finally finished reading Mockingjay, the last in Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games trilogy. When I say "finally" I mean I started it a year ago --in my old flat, old job, old single lifestyle-- and put it down. I didn't have time for it then: I was putting myself out there, working on marketing a show that was expected to die in sales (it nearly sold out *wink*), looking for new work, promising myself I'd get out of the hell our landlords were putting us through.

It was a world I could get really get lost in: Collins' world. But, when it came down to it, my own world needed my attention more.

A year later, and everything that can ever level out has, at least for this small bubble in time. Living conditions: stable. Job: stable. Relationship: stable. I have more time to read on my commute than I ever thought I'd need, and suddenly I'm finishing books I doubted I'd ever find the peace to see through.

And today will be ruled by Mockingjay, because it is disturbing, and violent, and Collins' parallels between her world and the Iraq war (or any modern war, for that matter) are far clearer than in the first two installments. It is stuck in my head, this book with scenes of series-favourite characters shredded by wild animals, limbs lost, skin catching fire, and when you're running on three hours sleep escaping these images is about as difficult as reading them was.

Today I'm making a special effort to speak to my friends.