Had you suggested, several years ago, that I would be reading young adult fiction, I would have laughed. That was before I discovered the Hunger Games and Divergent series. Really, you might ask, what would a person of a certain age find attractive in young adult fiction? The answer: depth.

While much of what passes for modern adult literature focuses on personal angst and sexual experiences, Collins and Roth consider the heady themes that have engaged writers for thousands of years: the relationship between the individual and the state, the personal and social costs of war, and the importance and limits of love, loyalty, family, and friendship.

Collins and Roth have deftly wrapped their explorations of what it means to be human in historical perspective. Collins cleverly draws a parallel between Panem's hunger games and the classic Greek tale of Theseus and Minotaur and the long-term warfare between the ancient Athenians and the Spartans. She also links Panem's hunger games with the decadence of ancient Rome in terms clearly meant to critique the modern thirst for violent entertainment.

Roth's stories don't hit as hard as Collins's - at first. The Divergent stories take place in a dystopian American future rooted in familiar twenty-first century customs and habits. As the novel unfolds, Tris Prior, like Collins's Katniss Everdeen, wrestles with moral dilemmas brought to the fore in horrific conditions beyond the characters’ control. Unlike Katniss, who is not introspective, Tris directly confronts the deeper question of whether human behavior is based on free will or is hardwired. Roth also suggests that practical and rational solutions to problems can be dehumanizing. Judging by the storm of criticism leveled at Allegiant, the final book in the series, Roth's answer that self sacrifice can be noble doesn't resonate with many of her readers. Apparently, we prefer our hunger games without a heart.