A Portrait Of The Mechanic As A Young Girl tells the story of Wiress' Games and the emotional journey ventured throughout. It's complete and has been revised. The summary is clear and simple: '
How Wiress grew up and won her Games', yet the story is anything but.
A Portrait Of The Mechanic As A Young Girl is one of the most refreshing and interesting fics I've ever come across in the Hunger Games fandom. The author,
shellebelle, goes to great lengths to flesh out Wiress as a character, as well as the world and era that she lived in. The minute details are the best: Wiress' acceptance of her dad's mental instability, the way she reflects on the female neighbours saying goodbye to her, her obvious love for school, her awe at everything in the train being so
clean. These little things help to manifest shellebelle's deep characterisation of our favourite mechanic. The reader finds themselves, at the beginning of the fic, with Wiress as she stands for the Reaping, and immediately we get a clear image of her: strong, reflective and intelligent.
How did I get here?
As I turn, facing all of my peers and teachers at the reaping, I can't help but feel disbelief. Sure, I have been preparing myself for this eventuality, but I still can't believe I'm up here. That I'll go
there.
To the Hunger Games.
I can feel myself starting to panic, but I close my eyes and recite the things that I know about myself in my head: My name is Wiress Mihos. I am fourteen years old and I am in the Mechanical Engineering Program in the District 3 school. My father is insane. My mother has disappeared. I'm a genius and a Mechanic and an Inventor. And now, I'm the newest Tribute for District 3.
Somehow, a blunt retelling of the facts is most helpful in calming myself down...
When I was younger, I loved school. I'm sure a lot of kids would say that, but for me, school was a haven. It meant everything to me. Everything.
This fic is encapsulating on so many levels - a glimpse into the characters' we know and love (and hate!) pasts is one brilliant feature. Wiress' relationship with Beetee, her mentor and District Three's Victor, is awesome to read.
This fic has many heart wrenching moments, as the books do, where the protagonist feels a sense of hopelessness; as a reader, you really do connect with Wiress. There's no shortage of Capitol-inspired horror within these Games - and the depths of the sadistic mindset in Panem is shown in full glory before the Games even start. There's a horrible (yet brilliant) moment in Chapter Five where Wiress realises the Avox serving them on the train is actually her mother. It's brutal - but gives an indication as to what lies in store for poor Wiress.
And then the Avox woman comes back to bring coffee, and I look up at her without thinking to thank her (even though I don't have to).
...it would be a cliché, and most untrue, to say that I look up into my own eyes. Her eyes are brown, and mine are green. But there is my mouth. My cheekbones. There is my hair, my thick, black, stringy hair, though hers is shot through with grey. Her hair seems the only thing that is aged, as her face is largely unlined, but for a few lines of sadness at the mouth, of weariness at the eyes. And I can see in her expression that she is as dismayed as I am that I'm here.
“I...” But no. I can't talk to her. I can't talk to her and she can't give me any answers because they cut out her tongue and now I know, I know where she is but it gives me no comfort, and no answers.
It's all too much. I burst into tears (all the acknowledgment I can give her) and run from the room, locking myself in my room and weeping. But thinking, always thinking, because I can't stop, and pacing. Back and forth, back and forth, like a caged mutt.
There's no way they didn't know she was my mother. As soon as I showed up, as soon as they took my picture and signed me in, they had to know. I always knew I resembled her, because everyone who'd known her said so. But I had not realized just how much that was true.
How could they not know? What do they want from me? My thoughts chase themselves around in a circle until finally, I sit down on the bed, with my arms wrapped around my legs. There's nothing I can do. There's nothing I can do but continue with my training, continue doing what I must.
I have no other choice. There's nothing at all I can do for her. And the thought of that is awful.
To conclude,
A Portrait Of The Mechanix As A Young Girl is a wonderfully unique Hunger Games fic. It explores a minor character's personality and past with depth and ease - and it shows that every Hunger Games is a horror story in itself. I love how differently this storyworld is portrayed. It's a must read!
~ Little Miss Mionie
