By the end of the session, I am no one at all. Haymitch started drinking somewhere around witty, and a nasty edge has crept into his voice. "I give up, sweetheart. Just answer the questions and try not to let the audience see how openly you despise them.

Why don't I just pretend I'm on camera, Plutarch?" I say. "Yes! Perfect. One is always much braver with an audience," he says. "Look at the courage Peeta just displayed!" It's all I can do not to slap him.

And random bits of happiness, like Finnick and Annie's newborn boy.

What must it be like, I wonder, to live in a world where food appears at the press of a button?

If you die and i live there's no life for me back in District 12. You're my whole life. I would never be happy again.

The Eleventh Plague hits disturbingly close to home An excellent, taut debut novel.

Yeah, we wouldn't want to lose our little Mockingjay when she's finally begun to sing.