The world of 'The Hunger Games' is a paranoid survivalist's dream.

Everyone watched, wondering if this could be the same lunatic who'd nearly berthed his ornithopter in the restaurant. I swallowed, for it seemed he was headed straight for my table. He pulled off his helmet and a mass of dark auburn hair spilled out. Off came the goggles, and I was looking at the beaming face of Kate de Vries.

I'm cursed with this puritanical streak that makes me want everything to be about something. It's a terrible affliction.

I raised my hands, trying to shush her. "Don't shush me," she said, eyes blazing. "I hate being shushed.

The preface? Why would he waste time with the preface? Skip the preface and move on to the meat of the thing!

It's somewhat disquieting that the same parents and educators who are horrified by the notion of child soldiers have bestowed upon 'The Hunger Games' a double mantle of critical praise and global bestsellerdom.

If anyone comes near you, just scream and run.