Being a book Snob, or How I learned to stop worrying and read the Hunger Games

Alright, I'll admit it. I'm a book snob. At least I'm not pretending that I'm not, right? I know how annoying book snobs can be. When I see/hear/perceive (because of my magical spidey senses) that there are other book snobs in the area, I automatically become highly defensive and a little douche-y. Just because I feel like I might have something to prove? Which, let's face it, is a little stupid in and of itself.

So to anyone who is reading the Twilight series near me, I apologize. I really can't help it. Don't think I'm just a random hater either. I read all of them. And actually, *don't crucify me for this or anything* I liked them at first. Now, I was in the 7th grade, but still. They're entertaining whether you're reading them for lulz or because you just really like imagining an icy old man and a teenager NOT getting down. Whatever floats your boat. But it's just like me to feel like it is my appointed right to tell everyone my thoughts on any book I've ever read. Just tell me to go away, I will, I swear.

Anyway, I've spent most of the last two years sitting on my butt in Starbucks/Saxby's/wherever reading REALLY IMPORTANT THINGS on my Kindle, which I will defend to the death. And by really important, I mean really self-righteous fairly-boring classical literature pieces that I will feign liking to impress people. I'm sorry, you guys, I really am. But when you can look up at people and say "Oh, I'm just casually reading the Return of the Native, I really am impressed by the way the author manipulated Egdon Heath from being a setting to being a character, it adds a certain panache to the story as a whole," you feel pretty good for a while. Then whoever you said that too thinks you're a monumental dillhole, and you feel like you want to punch yourself directly in the eye socket. At least that happens to me. Maybe English majors at tiny little New England liberal arts colleges can get away from that. But they can wear beanies and also be accepted by society, so they don't count. Here's where I'm probably just bitter that they can get away with the whole scarf thing and I can't.

I bet this skank pulls of scarves great. I hate her, on principle, of course.

The point of this story, my little croissants, is that in a moment of weakness, I pulled away from my persnickety year-long reading theme. Which, if you were wondering, is 18th and 19th century female characters of ill-repute (Theodore Dreiser, Flaubert and the like). This isn't because I'm fancy, but more because I like a good costume drama and have Irish Catholic level guilt when I haven't read the book first.

Don't pretend like you didn't love this even though it was confusing and weird and Bollywood-ish. Costume dramas.....drool.

I broke down, because of one sentence. Which was a surprised "Oh, *you* haven't read the Hunger Games series? I thought everybody had." The tiny little a-hole snob inside of me sputtered incoherently before spitefully buying them all on whispernet to shove a metaphorical boot up the intellectual ass of the person who had said that. Damn right I've read them, and I found some GD symbolism too. So nyah.

Just. Just. I can't explain it, ok?

Mature? Probably not. Actually not. But it broke me. This book series is my white whale. (Moby Dick reference, har har.) I cannot find a single thing I dislike about it. My alternate librarian jackass personality wants to hate them, but she just can't. Her name, for future reference, is probably something like Matilda.

Back to the point, everytime they introduced a new character, I wanted to be like "Well isn't that derivative?" Instead I was like this:

Please let there be more to this chapter. PEETA! OH MY GOSH ISN'T THAT SO CUTE? Wait, I bet this would be so exciting as a movie....HOLY CRUD it is going to be a movie. Danger, I love danger ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh they're in the capitol....I love Katniss, even though I'm nothing like her, I totally identify.

I looked like this when I was done.

Yes, that's right. I had a fangirl rant. Don't think this is going so far as to turn into creepy-stalky-fan-fiction emailing Suzanne Collins and asking weird hypothetical questions. But yes, I'm excited to see the movie. And, for those of you unfortunate lucky enough to know me, you can now use this against me.

Whatever, I'm proud.

I am flipping the fuck out. Sorry.