In the past week, all I can think about is The Hunger Games. I devoured the first two books within twenty-four hours. Then, I had to make time to read the third book in between commute to work. I thought of the characters when I’m not reading, dreamed of them when I’m sleeping, talked about them to anyone listening. Basically, the series consumed me for the entire week.
I’ve never been in love with how a story was written until Small Great Things.