Man, been awhile since I picked up a book that swept me away. It’s like thinking there’s another step when there isn’t, like sitting down and finding out one second too late that there’s no chair, and whoops, there lurches your stomach and there’s a disconnect and suddenly it’s 1AM–WAY PAST YOUR BEDTIME–and you’re only putting the book down because you’re supposed to tango late into tomorrow night.

But seriously, y’all. Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. I know I’m late to this party by several years, and that MOCKINGJAY is what all the cool kids are talking about (book 3 in the series, so I gather), but c’mon, gimme a break, I work for a living and have to brush my own teeth and everything.

So what’s it about? It’s like 1984 meets Thunderdome. It’s like Brave New World meets Salute of the Jugger. It’s told simple and sweet and straight, but simple language here don’t mean easy or lacking in skill; the characters are powerful, vibrant, the plot moves with the same inexorable force of a the Amazon river, and man, it’s just damn good. Unputdownable. Except I put it down just now, which makes me look good, not the book look bad.

Or something.

I figure I’ll finish it tomorrow in the bathroom at work, or during my lunchbreak, or while fleeing the cops for having run too many red lights.

I almost feel sorry for the other two YA books I bought. It’s gonna be a hard act to follow, ya know?

Anyways. I’d best be going to bed. I gotta be ready to tango tomorrow.