On Romanian dictator Nicolae Ceausescu’s lust for blood-sport.
A child's uneasy participation in a hunting party; an excerpt from Jackson's forthcoming novel Mira Corpora.
"A bearded man orders the children to circle up and divide into groups. A brother and sister pull my ears and claim me. They say that I’m their lucky charm. The siblings are pale with spindly legs, denim shorts, floppy hiking boots. We set off into the heart of the woods. The boy’s crew cut ends in a braided rat’s tail. He flicks it back and forth across his shoulders. They both have beady eyes and big noses. There’s something else on their faces, but it’s not clear yet."
A high school runner is torn between championship meets and quality time with his drunk, racist father.
"It’s five thirty. Mom called Dad, but he’s not home. Must be on his way, she says. I nod. We’ve made this exchange a hundred times. I’m wearing a new camouflage t-shirt from the Army-Navy Surplus outlet. Mom bought it. You look like a little soldier, she says. I made her buy face paint too, but I’m saving that for the woods."
Stalking bluefin tuna, the most valuable wild animal in the world.
“It’s 7:30 a.m., and already the congressman and I are covered in blood.”