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Suzanne CollinsA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Coriolanus and Lucy Gray decide that her best chance at victory is to let the other tributes kill each other until she is the last one standing.
Meanwhile, Dr. Gaul reiterates that the Capitol is justified in inflicting the Games, given that “war is a constant” (161); the only way to retain power is to “control it indefinitely […] with strict laws, and with reminders of who’s in charge” (162), as Coriolanus himself surmises. Dr. Gaul tasks the students with writing an essay about everything they find “attractive about war” (162).
Coriolanus secures a guitar for Lucy Gray prior to their next interview, and Tigris fixes her signature dress. Coriolanus tells her that “[her] odds get better by the minute,” to which Lucy Gray replies, “The show’s not over until the mockingjay sings” (169). She once again commands the spotlight with “The Ballad of Lucy Gray Baird,” a haunting song about past deeds, former lovers, and mortality. While the audience applauds with enthusiasm, Coriolanus is consumed by jealousy.
Coriolanus feels humiliated by Lucy Gray’s song; more so, by the implication that she lived a different life before him. Despite “Lucy Gray [belonging] to him” (172), her song ultimately disrupted his fantasy and he sulks about “how friendly she could be” toward other men (173). He is soothed somewhat by congratulatory remarks about his remarkable tribute.
Later that evening, Coriolanus and Tigris reminisce about their lives during the war. They recount the time in which their family received a turkey, among other rarities, in memoriam to Coriolanus’s late father. This memory helps Coriolanus complete Dr. Gaul’s assignment, adding “relief from deprivation” to his essay. He ends it on a far darker note: He felt “the grim satisfaction of seeing the Capitol’s enemies, who’d treated him so cruelly, who’d cost his family so much, brought to their knees. Hobbled. Impotent” (180). He deems the best aspect of war as “[t]he security that could only come with power. The ability to control things. Yes, that was what he’d loved best of all” (180).
Finally, it is time to send Lucy Gray into the arena, and Coriolanus brings her a feast akin to a last meal. He feels great tenderness toward her, in her fear and helplessness, and assures her that “you won’t be alone in the arena; we’ll be together” (190). As a token of his promise to keep her alive, he gives her his mother’s silver compact—sans its rose-scented powder. He hints that she gets powder of her own (i.e., the rat poison sprinkled throughout the arena).
Lucy Gray kisses Coriolanus before leaving, “[a] real kiss on the lips, with hints of peaches and powder” (193), and he is both aroused and confused by the gesture. While he finds Lucy Gray attractive, he reminds himself that she is “not Capitol, a second-class citizen. Human, but bestial. Smart, perhaps, but not evolved” (194). Dean Highbottom challenges Coriolanus’s views in an interview, suggesting that while the districts lack the Capitol’s advantages and resources, both of their citizens are equals: “Assuming [...] a physical, mental, or especially a moral superiority, would be a mistake. That sort of hubris almost finished us off in the war” (199). One of Coriolanus and Sejanus’s classmates, Lysistrata, complains that mentors and mentees are certainly equals in their both being the Capitol’s pawns.
Announcer Lucky Flickerman opens the Tenth Annual Hunger Games, screens coming to life with televised images of the arena. At its center is a crossbeam from which the “battered and bloody” Marcus—Sejanus’s escaped tribute—is “hung [with] manacled wrists,” barely alive (205).
Even Coriolanus is disturbed by this spectacle, thinking that “[i]t would have been horrifying to see any creature displayed this way—a dog, a monkey, a rat, even—but a boy?” (206). Horrified, Sejanus calls the Capitol residents “monsters” and runs off (207). In a horrific follow-up to this display, another tribute takes an ax to Marcus’s neck and relives him of his misery.
The rest of the day proceeds rather quietly. Dr. Gaul reminds the audience that the earlier bombing left more places for tributes to hide. She also suggests that the new addition of sponsorship—where Capitol viewers may buy supplies like food and water for the tributes—is “another game changer. With the audience providing food, the Games could last indefinitely” (213). Much to Coriolanus’s chagrin, Lucy Gray remains out of sight, her “charming songbird persona […] becoming less impressive with each grim moment in the Hunger Games” (219).
Coriolanus returns home, contemplating how to keep Lucy Gray alive—and more importantly, relevant. When he arrives, Mrs. Plinth, Sejanus’s “Ma,” is seen with Grandma’am and Tigris, distraught by her son’s sudden disappearance. Thinking Coriolanus his friend, Ma seeks his advice. But just as he tries to brush her off, they spot a figure sneaking into the dark arena: Sejanus somehow infiltrated the Games.
Coriolanus witnesses Sejanus performing yet another funeral rite, this time, on Marcus’s behalf. Ma explains that, in their district, bread crumbs are sprinkled over the dead so that they have food for their journey into the afterlife. Rather than interpret this act as one of compassion or reverence, Coriolanus sees it as “proof of the districts’ backwardness” (224).
Dr. Gaul notes Coriolanus’s faux friendship with Sejanus and his family—albeit, it being “respect” for their wealth. She calls upon a horrified Coriolanus to extricate Sejanus from the arena as she does not wish for any distractions.
Coriolanus and his assigned Peacekeepers find Sejanus, who wishes to die in the arena in protest of the Games. Desperate, Coriolanus convinces him that he must instead stand up to Dr. Gaul in order to enact lasting change. Sejanus insists that they bring Marcus with them, but as they attempt to exit, a group of tributes arrive on the scene.
From his own compulsion to keep up appearances to Lucy Gray’s ability to charm an audience (which may, after all, save her life), Coriolanus learns to value the performative aspects of identity over the sincerity of belief, as displayed by the likes of Sejanus. Even the tributes pick up on the emphasis on entertainment in the Games. If they are to garner sponsors, they must “sing for their supper.” For those familiar with the original trilogy, it is clear that this idea becomes formally ingrained in future Hunger Games.
Lucy Gray’s eponymous ballad demonstrates how performance, especially that of vulnerable young women, can easily be sexualized. Before Lucy Gray even sings, her appearance is detailed, evaluated, and key to her appeal. As the black market trader who loans Coriolanus a guitar comments, she looks “like someone who still knew how to have fun” (169); she is not described as “beautiful,” but available “for fun.” Coriolanus then puts “a hot pink rosebud in her hair,” which matches “the one on his lapel, just in case anyone needed a reminder of who Lucy Gray belonged to” (169). Not only is she framed as a possession, but the Snows’ signature roses also subtly suggest the act of deflowering, the rosebud of innocence blossoming into a “flower” with experience.
The ballad itself further highlights Lucy Gray’s “flowery” nature with implications of prostitution: She sings, “I lived by my charms” and “I danced for my dinner, spread kisses like honey,” which likely prompted her former lover to leave her (170). These lyrics provoke Coriolanus as he reflects on Lucy Gray’s supposed (sexual) experience; they also call into question the infamous mockingjay. The mockingjay, Katniss Everdeen’s symbol of rebellion in the original trilogy, is instead assigned to Lucy Gray. However, Lucy Gray is not some leader, but rather, a transgressive character—one who does not belong to any place, to anyone. She is not a district native, but of the transient Covey. She tempts Coriolanus away from the appropriate girls of the Capitol, his indoctrinated conduct and thoughts sometimes straying when protecting her. She is both tribute, a victim of the violent whims of the Capitol, and something else. In Sejanus’s words, her entry felt rigged; she may not even belong in the Games. Lucy Gray’s liminality makes her a force to be reckoned with (even Coriolanus finds her “intimidating” in Chapter 3). While Coriolanus tempers his passion for her by reminding himself of her undesirable origins, Lucy Gray’s affection seems genuine—if not for her talent in performance. She needs Coriolanus if she is to survive.
This section also complicates the Hunger Games’ purpose and those implicated in said purpose. When Coriolanus’s classmate, Lysistrata, suggests that the mentors are being “used” by the Capitol, Coriolanus reconsiders his place: “If the cause wasn’t honorable, how could it be an honor to participate in it? He felt confused, then manipulated, then undefended. As if he were more a tribute than a mentor” (202). The Hunger Games instill fear and obedience in the citizens of the Capitol as much as they remind the districts of their powerlessness. This idea is further developed when Coriolanus finds himself at the mercy of Dr. Gaul, forced to enter the arena himself: “He was just like the subjects of her other experiments” (229).
Everyone in Panem—Capitol and district, mentor and mentee, viewer and participant—is incriminated in the Games’ violence.
Martyrdom also plays into this shared violence, with Marcus being crucified and Sejanus willing to die to prove a point. The biblical allusions are clear: Like the Romans who stood by and watched Jesus be crucified without objection, so too are the Roman-monikered citizens of the Capitol guilty of passive sin.
By Suzanne Collins