The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes | Suzanne Collins
PSA: this review contains spoilers from the beginning. For my spoiler-free thoughts on The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, please try this post instead.
“A tendency toward obsession was hardwired into his brain and would likely be his undoing if he couldn’t learn to outsmart it.”
Eighteen year old Coriolanus Snow prepares for the 10th reaping ceremony of the annual Hunger Games. Coriolanus hopes to impress his professors and peers in his shot at glory as a mentor in the Games, as the once-mighty house of Snow has fallen on hard times.
He finds the odds stacked against him.
Humiliated at the repairing with the assignment of the girl from District 12, Lucy Gray Baird, Coriolanus must think fast and outwit, outcharm, and outmanoeuvre his classmates. Within the arena it’ll be a fight to the death. Watching on, Coriolanus battles between his emotions, and the desire to survive.
The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes is the prequel to The Hunger Games trilogy. I’m going to be really frank and honest here, when this book was first published in 2020 I turned my nose up at it. ‘Why on earth would I want to read about Coriolanus Snow?’ The series was finished, and it was perfect - there was no need to drag it out. I thought it was a J.K-esque money grabbing ploy. I thought it would be an utter waste of my time. And I stand before you humbly corrected.
What I didn’t anticipate were the nuances TBOSAS would bring to The Hunger Games. That, and that my perception of the games and the president wouldn’t be changed as such - they both remain irrevocably evil - but that I would gain a further understanding into the mechanics of each. I read the book after having seen the 2023 film adaptation which is pretty unheard of for me. I did actually quite enjoy this process though; discovering even more about the characters and story whilst reading, rather than being disappointed coming out of the film with it cutting out such important details.
The very first line of the book makes it very clear where Coriolanus Snow stands in relation to his current circumstances: ‘Coriolanus released a fistful of cabbage into the pot of boiling water and swore that one day it would never pass his lips again.’
Just from this line we learn two things:
1. This is not the Snow we know in The Hunger Games. Cabbage is generally a food associated with poverty - particularly in these conditions. Therefore we can quickly put two and two together and come to the conclusion that the Snow’s either come from poverty or have hit hard times.
2. Corionlaus is already thirsting for an iota of control in his life. One day he won’t have to live in this assumed poverty. One day he will be more powerful than he currently is.
This theme of Snow regaining power and control in his life continues throughout the novel. Despite his best efforts to fit in at the Academy, full of the posh, rich children of his father’s old colleagues, Snow is consistently snubbed by Dean Highbottom and made to feel inferior to his classmates; ‘Look at you, in your makeshift shirt and your too-tight shoes, trying to hold it together. Strutting around the Capitol when I doubt the Snows have a pot to piss in.’ By calling Snow out on his family’s financial situation, Highbottom drives Snow to find innovative ways in which to win the ‘Plinth prize’, which he believes will secure his place at the university, and help his cousin and grandmother out of their dire living conditions.
When referencing a shirt that Tigris, his cousin, has prepared for him, Coryo gives insight into his controlling habits and the root of them: ‘His mind could fixate on a problem like that - anything really - and not let go. As if controlling one element of his world would keep him from ruin.’ He is constantly hanging in the balance between triumph and devastation - his entire life teetering on a precipice. What remains of his family are living with the fear of their reality being revealed to the world. A great dynasty crumbled to nothing. This need for control stems from the war with the rebels and the destruction of his family due to the death of his father. This persisting trauma has caused him to seek out and hold onto control in the aspects of life that he is able to; in his school work, friendships, what he wears, and how he presents himself. This is excellent foreshadowing for who Snow will eventually become. The need he has to control the games, the victors, the entirety of Panem. Seeing Snow’s insistent need for control makes it clear how much of a threat Katniss Everdeen really was to him by lighting a spark of resistance.
In this book, we are presented with the very bones of The Hunger Games - the event in its afterbirth. The Games have not been popular with the Capitol citizens and Dr Gaul, an eccentric and unnerving professor, decides to present the Plinth prize to the student who is able to make their tribute most watchable - not the mentor who’s victor wins. This leads to discussions over betting, sending in food, and interviews (which we know stuck as ideas and appear in the later Hunger Games featuring Katniss Everdeen). The discussion into why citizens are not engaging with The Hunger Games opens up a further dialogue concerning the need for them in the first place. We learn that there is resistance from the public against the Hunger Games, bu that the ruling powers are set on its success. ‘People had short memories. They needed to navigate the rubble, peel off the grubby ration coupons, and witness the Hunger Games to keep the war fresh in their minds. Forgetting could lead to complacency, and then they’d all be back to square one.’ The Capitol encourages watching the games to ensure that the people of the Capitol don’t forget the war. It is not only a punishment for the Districts but a reminder of loss and a persevering resentment within the Capitol.
This line of thought riles Sejanus Plinth in particular, the son of a munitions tycoon from District 2 who, since the war, made his home in the Capitol. To fully understand Snow and his choices, it is important to understand his relationship with Sejanus Plinth. For Snow, ‘the Plinths and their kind were a threat to all he held dear’. They challenge the idea that District citizens are different to those that reside in the Capitol. The fact that the Plinths have been able to make a life in Snow’s territory is a constant slap in the face for Coriolanus considering the financial ruination the Snows are facing. Sejanus is a reminder that the Districts are humans. In addition to this, Sejanus is the voice of humanity within the book. This irks Snow, as he cannot understand Sejanus’ angle. This is made clear in an exchange regarding the tributes:
Sejanus: ‘Ever since the reaping, I keep imagining I’m one of them.’
Snow: ‘That seems like an odd pastime.’
Snow cannot sympathise with Sejanus and his guilt. He doesn't understand where his humanity comes from when Snow believes that Sejanus now lives a more privileged life than himself. He doesn’t see the manipulation at work as Sejanus’ father makes sure that Sejanus’ old classmate from District 2 ends up as his tribute. He just sees an ungrateful boy with the potential to steal his spotlight. He does, however, see him as a useful and malleable ally due to Sejanus’ unwavering loyalty for Snow. Sejanus often refers to Snow as ‘brother’ and is trusting of Snow to a fault.
This bubbles over when we see the pair of them in District 12 later in the book. Sejanus’ guilt-fuelled plight to aid the rebels causes Snow to put himself first on the off-chance that he would be linked to Sejanus. Sejanus becomes a loose cannon for Coriolanus - a threat that he can no longer control, and this results in Sejanus’ death. The line; ‘I’m so blameless, I’m choking on it’ is resounding, as the choice of execution for Sejanus for him to be hanged.
Sejanus was a voice of humanity balancing on Snow’s shoulder- and interestingly his relationship with Lucy Gray is not dissimilar. Coriolanus and Lucy’s relationship is deeply entrenched in their trust and distrust for one another - the constant tiptoeing around one another, unsure of their respective endgames. Since we never see the story from Lucy Gray’s point of view it’s difficult to pinpoint her exact feelings towards Coriolanus, especially as his image of himself, and of her exchanges with him, are so self-serving.
Initially, Snow is outraged to have been lumped with the District 12 girl, the ‘lowest of the low.’ When he learns of her musical gifts, and potential to be vengeful, he quickly works this into a tactic in order to further his personal agenda, winning the Plinth prize. Snow sees Lucy Gray as an opportunity, and later as a possession: ‘And last but least, District Twelve girl…she belongs to Coriolanus Snow.’ He is slowly introduced to the possibility of Lucy Gray as a human being, and believes that he has caused this to happen: ‘The more he had treated her as something special, the more she’d become human.’ When standing alongside Lucy, Snow sees himself as a ‘star’ and pushes her into performing again to ensure his victory as a mentor. He leeches off of her talents in order to ensure his own future.
I found it incredibly interesting and disturbing to read of the ownership Snow believed he had over Lucy; growing jealous when she sings about an ex-boyfriend, wondering of her relationship with Jessup, and fully believing that ‘one way or another, their fates were irrevocably linked’. Once in District 12, the ownership Snow felt over Lucy in the Games dissipates slightly as she is in her own realm. She is beloved by her people, the District 12 citizens, and the peacekeepers, and it is clear that this shakes Snow. He finds himself attempting to assimilate into her existence, although often stating that he doesn’t care for any of the Covey but her. He also internally criticises her people and their mannerisms, as well as being overly judgemental of Lucy Gray herself. This suggests infatuation and obsession over true love - he believes he can change the way she thinks, take her to live in the Capitol, and mould her into his vision.
The disappearance of Lucy Gray, the not-knowing what exactly happened to her, is a work of genius. To have Snow on edge and aware that there is potentially someone out there who knows about his involvement with the rebels, with the tribute he killed, with her, must play on his mind until his death. The not knowing, after his need to be in control of every element of his life, must be excruciating.
Snow is ultimately a self-serving and self-pitying coward. He is a narcissist, and consistently self inserts into other people’s trauma and hardships - finding himself a potential victim and making moves to protect number one. After the death of a classmate, Snow feels intense emotion but almost instantly suggests, even to himself, that it was self pity: ‘For about a minute a painful sobbing made his chest ache but then it passed, and he wasn’t sure if it had to do with sorrow over her death or unhappiness over his own difficulties.’ Snow has a fairly black and white view of the Capitol and the Districts. His involvement in the Games disrupts this understanding of humanity after a brief stint in the arena himself, although his belief that District citizens were ‘hardly better than animals’ is maintained throughout, even when living in District 12 himself.
This prequel is a fascinating insight into the future president of Panem, and the eventual puppeteer of what will become the Hunger Games as we know it. The foreshadowing is indulgent, layering context and nuance into what we already know as canon. This had the potential to become a villain origin story, but instead tells the tale of a man who forges his own path to tyranny. At the crux of it - Coriolanus Snow chooses his course. He isn’t a man forced into evil - he is handed every opportunity to do good, and rolls each choice over his tongue, consistently picking the flavours which will best serve his personal agenda.