Launch and Party! Griffith REVIEW 30: The Annual Fiction Edition [22.10.2010]
The gorgeous Griffith REVIEW second Annual Fiction Edition, with cover art by Poh Ling Yeow (yes, from Poh’s Kitchen) is packed with the summer’s most exciting collection of writing from authors who are engaging with the Pacific Rim.
Join the folks behind this edition and mingle with contributors including Melbourne’s own Alice Pung, Kate Holden, Sandra Goldbloom Zurbo, Jillian Pattinson, Chris Flynn, Jewelene Barrile, Mark Welker and – RSVP pending – Peter Temple. Plus the GREW Prize will be awarded to this year’s three winners – two in fiction and one in non-fiction.
Email to RSVP for the party and launch, which is at Readings Carlton on October 28, 2010 at 6pm.
Enjoy an exclusive extract below and win one of five free copies of Griffith REVIEW’s inaugural fiction edition, Stories for Today – just email Griffith Review and tell us what GREW stands for.
Panther – extract
Chris Flynn
Walking on train tracks is unnatural. The distance between the wooden sleepers is just longer than a normal footstep, so you have to look down constantly to make sure you don’t stumble. Staring along the railway line is disorienting, almost sickening. When you look up at the clouds, they seem to be moving inwards towards a fixed point on the horizon. The eye has become accustomed to the railway track, and struggles for a moment to adjust to the rest of the world.
The dog snuffled through the undergrowth, a wild look in her eye. I called her to heel but as usual she ignored me. I had let her off the leash on this section of track, as there were no sheep on the surrounding properties. She had almost been shot by a neighbour last week for spooking his lambs. If she had mauled one, I would have let him do it. I was only looking after her for friends who had gone overseas, and I hadn’t realised she was untrained. She was a stupid mutt and would strain at the leash, her tongue lolling out as she slowly strangled herself. When I let her loose she would disappear, and it irritated me to call after her all the time.
She trotted towards me with something in her mouth: a prize she had scrounged from the scrub.
‘Drop it, Jess,’ I ordered. ‘Come on, let me see that.’
Reluctantly she let the object slide from her slobbering jaws. It fell on the track. She sniffed at it uncertainly, trying to determine if it was edible.
I crouched to examine what I thought was a gnarled piece of wood. It was the foot of an animal, intact. Three rough claws protruded in a toe formation. The rest was covered in a downy, close-set fur. It looked like the limb of a small kangaroo, severed neatly just below the knee. The dog pushed at my hands with her snout, excited at my interest in her find and trying to grab it from me. I stood up and held it away from her.
‘You can’t eat that, Jess. Go on, piss off.’ I shooed her away and she lost interest, resuming her scent-hunt through the nearby bush. I placed the leg in my jacket pocket and had a look through the grass to see if the rest of the carcass was around, sniffing like the dog for the smell of dead flesh. I couldn’t find anything, and neither could Jess.
I showed the find to Tom Grainger at the butchers. He knew his beasts of the field and confirmed it was a roo, but was puzzled how the leg could have come off so cleanly. Apart from a hardened scab of blood, the clawed foot seemed fresh. ‘Probably the panther.’
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