My feet back up automatically and I blend into the trees. I cover my mouth with my glove to disperse the white of my breath in the icy air. Adrenaline courses through me, wiping all the concerns of the day from my mind as I focus on the immediate threat before me. What is going on?

To recap: last chapter she realized the fence was electrified.  This chapter, she freaks out about that.

But…but…but…in the first book she told us that the fence is electrified a few hours every day at random.  It’s not constant because they don’t always have power available, but whenever it is, the fence is electric.  So this should be just a “oh, I guess the power came on” reaction, not “HOLY FIZZNIT, WHAT IS THIS WIZARDRY?”

Has Thread turned on the fence as an additional security precaution? Or does he somehow know I’ve escaped his net today?

Oh, right, the whole universe revolves around Katniss.  Sorry, I forgot for a moment.

It was dark when I went under and my face was bundled in a scarf.

And also you’re wearing a ‘high tech’ snow suit, so….yeah…

Here, at least, I can see I’ve got a snowbank to cushion my landing. Even if I could find another, which is doubtful, who knows what I’d be jumping into?

It does not occur to Katniss that she still doesn’t know what she’s jumping into.  ‘Snowbank’ could also be ‘big hard thing with sharp angles that just got covered with a layer of snow.’  Or even ‘pile of snow covered in hard ice that has a thin second layer of snow on top.’

There’s the sensation of falling, then I hit the ground with a jolt that goes right up my spine.

1) She sees there’s a snowbank which might cushion her fall and uses it as an excuse to stay here.  But…she doesn’t jump into the snowbank?

2) She jumps straight-legged and tries to stick the landing.  From 25 feet up.  Really?  What a city girl.

My mother and Prim can’t know I was in the woods.

Because…they’ll turn you in?  They suck at lying?  The magic peacekeepers can sniff out information in their brains?

…reasons?

I meant to make a meal at the lake, but once I saw Twill and Bonnie’s condition, it seemed wrong to take a single mouthful from them.

SEEMED?  ARE YOU CONFUSED ON THIS POINT?  DO YOU THINK IT WAS UNCLEAR WHETHER THAT WOULD BE BAD OR NOT?

“May we ask where you’ve been, Miss Everdeen?” the woman asks.

“Easier to ask where I haven’t been,” I say with a sound of exasperation. […]

 “So where haven’t you been?” says Haymitch in a bored voice.

 “Well, I haven’t been talking to the Goat Man about getting Prim’s goat pregnant, because someone gave me completely inaccurate information as to where he lives,” I say to Prim emphatically.

 “No, I didn’t,” says Prim. “I told you exactly.”

 “You said he lives beside the west entrance to the mine,” I say.

 “The east entrance,” Prim corrects me.

Hey, remember how Katniss always says she gets tongue tied when trying to lie?

Well, at least she’s really bad at it, even if she does it smoothly and without blinking.

No, really, look at that.  A policeman arrives at her house and wants to know where she’s been.  Katniss, instead of answering or saying “why do you ask?” or anything reasonable, launches immediately into a blithe and funny story about her day as if she’s on a fucking stage or something.

This is on par with actually ‘whistling innocently’ while stuffing things in your pocket and strolling past a guard, only instead of being facetious you actually think it’ll work.

But instead of the peacekeepers immediately throwing everyone in jail for acting guilty as sin, they just stand there and let the ‘funny’ banter continue for several pages while they tease each other about who gets to eat the candy Katniss bought.

Seriously.  Imagine this with a policeman in your own home.  He comes over to question you, and instead of being the slightest bit nervous about why he’s there or what’s going on, you just throw peppermints at your mom/brother/spouse/cat the whole time.  Do you think that would actually indicate innocence?

Well, for whatever reason, it works here.  No, I know the reason.  The author wanted to write something ‘funny’ and forgot all about consistency, characterization, or FUCKING LOGIC.

A side effect of the sleep syrup is that it makes people less inhibited, like white liquor, and I know I have to control my tongue.

Stuff in this book just happens, just gets declared to be so, with no reason behind it.  The snow pile is pure and soft as pillows, but she’s not going to jump on it, because reasons.  The sleep medicine acts the same as liquor, because reasons.  Prim and Cynthia can’t know about the woods, because reasons. 

There’s no point to trying to figure anything out.  There’s no point to trying to understand this world or the people in it.  Nothing is consistent, based on real life, or the least bit logical.  We just have to sit here and wait for Katniss to point stuff out to us, which she will do at random and/or right before it becomes important.  But one thing this all comes down to: the reader is not supposed to use her/his brain while reading. 

In fact, I want him to climb in with me, to be there when the nightmares hit tonight. For some reason that I can’t quite form, I know I’m not allowed to ask that.

This book is feminist, and don’t you forget it!  And don’t you ask for physical comfort from a boy when you’re not dating anyone or in any sort of monogamous agreement, nope, that makes you a whore.  Feminism is fun!

So I let my mother doctor me and feed me breakfast in bed and tuck another quilt around me. Then I just lie there, staring out my window at the winter sky, pondering how on earth this will all turn out.

Riveting heroine, there.

It’s funny, because he could just arrest me, anyway, based on past crimes, but maybe he has to have something really irrefutable to do it, now that I’m a victor.

See?  No logic, no reason, no consistency.  She said there could be cameras in the woods and someone (or some camera) spied on her Gale kissing there, so there’s surveillance of some sort.  Also, they’re a despotic government and evil to boot, and they control all information.  But don’t bother thinking about that.  Don’t try and put it together and understand this world.

No.  Just sit back, and whatever you do, don’t use your brain.  Don’t think critically.  Don’t try and figure stuff out.  Katniss will declare things to be or not be, and just follow along with what she says.

Because heaven forbid we try and encourage our kids to read more in the hopes that they’ll develop into smart, astute adults.

Even if I could figure out some way to escape — maybe get a rope up to that maple tree branch and climb out — there’d be no escaping with my family and friends now. I told Gale I would stay and fight, anyway.

How handy that some obstacle has come up, but all it does is encourage you to do exactly what you were already going to do anyway.  Isn’t it nice when the world orders itself to fit your desired course of action?

For a long time, I’ve wanted to record my own knowledge in it. Things I learned from experience or from Gale, and then the information I picked up when I was training for the Games. I didn’t because I’m no artist and it’s so crucial that the pictures are drawn in exact detail. That’s where Peeta comes in. Some of the plants he knows already, others we have dried samples of, and others I have to describe. He makes sketches on scrap paper until I’m satisfied they’re right, then I let him draw them in the book. After that, I carefully print all I know about the plant.

This is actually pretty cute and a good display of the two of them working together.  It also shows a nice bit of character from Katniss, highlighting her priorities, a sense of connection to her family, and something she’s good at all in one go.

Why couldn’t we get more details like this, instead of stupid kissing scenes and angsting about how the whole world is out to get her (but can’t)?

I see the smoldering remains of the Justice Building in District 13 and just catch the black-and-white underside of a mockingjay’s wing

The mockingjay thing was stupid enough to begin with, but

HOW DO YOU NOT NOTICE THAT THE RUINS ARE FUCKING ON FIRE FOR SEVENTY-FOUR FUCKING YEARS?