Image © Alexandra Dvornikova
Throughout literature, the mushroom, mycelia, and fungi have always been a source of great magic and inspiration. The beauty, practicality, and potential peril of mushrooms have caught the imagination of naturalists and writers for centuries. Think of the Amanita muscaria from Alice in Wonderland, the magical mushroom that allows Alice to change size. Or of Prospero in The Tempest, who says of fairies and elves: “By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, Where of the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime is to make midnight mushrooms.”
The sudden popularity of the mushroom as a modern-day magical emblem is hardly new. It is, rather, a renewed interest in a symbol that has long formed the basis of many of our greatest stories. In particular, the mushroom has been depicted in some of the oldest religious texts known to man. In the Vedas, compiled in northern India between 1500-1200 B.C, “soma” was referenced as a potion drunk by deities, blessing them with wonderful powers. Likewise, the mushroom has found a particular synonymy with medieval Christian and religious artworks. A Romanesque Fresco in the Abbaye de Plaincourault in Indre, France, appears to depict Eve’s temptation by an Amanita muscaria mushroom instead of an apple, with a sinister serpent coiled around it.
The symbol of the mushroom in stories has always been more than just “a food,” and more recently, the mushroom has captured the contemporary imagination through the popularity of aesthetics like goblincore. Playing upon the fantasy of rural domesticity and escapism from the monotony of day-to-day life, the mushroom is now evocative of something far more than just whimsical and experimental than we could have ever conceived. Seen across platforms like TikTok, Pinterest, and Instagram, there has been an unequivocal cultural longing for all things whimsical and folkloric. And we might have books to thank for its renaissance in popular culture.
The emergence of Victorian fairy-centric literature would be embedded with imagery of rusticism, paganism, and the otherworldly, and in these works, the mystique of the mushroom was a recurring motif. Deceptively aimed at children, such novels, under the guise of “innocence”, could explore more adult themes through the reimagining of the countryside, now framed as a site of sensual and erotic exploration and a kind of psychedelic re-enchantment. At the core of it all lies the visionary power of nature. Plants, flowers, and fungi were integral to the rich lore of these newly imagined worlds in which forest folk would dart between toadstools and faerie rings. Not only did these images help weave a rich tapestry of mythical storytelling in the 19th century, but the mushroom also became emblematic of otherworldliness itself through its potentially psychoactive properties, ornate design, and synonymy with magic.
Beyond the literary realm, the mushroom has been long linked to femininity, witchcraft, and old magic. Ecofeminist theory of the late 1970s began to address the parallels and similarities between both female and environmental oppression and exploitation, and also links between the maternal qualities of women and nature due to their traditional role as nurturers and caregivers. In an age of gender-fluidity and self-expression, the mushroom is symbolically more important than ever with its potentially infinite number of sexual variants. But the connection between femininity and the mushroom isn’t limited to a purely symbolic value; the tremella fuciformis fungi is notable for its medicinal properties that target mostly feminine ailments, such as cervical and breast cancers.
Another lesson can be taken from the mycelium, who co-exist through their density of connections with one another. In an article for the BBC, Nic Fleming writes, “We now know that these threads act as a kind of underground internet, linking the roots of different plants”. Similarly, in Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds and Shape Our Futures, Merlin Sheldrake explores how the endlessly surprising organisms feed nearly all living systems. Alongside the potentially psychedelic and mythical emblems of the mushroom, through these communication channels, the mycelium has come to represent something far deeper about the interconnectedness of humanity and our ecosystem; the vitality of one another for our own sustenance.
With this sentiment in mind, it is unsurprisingly that fungi would have been such an inspiration to the likes of Sylvia Plath and Emily Dickinson. Dickinson projects the entirety of ecological and folkloric potential onto the humble fungus; “Had Nature any supple Face / Or could she one contemn / Had Nature an Apostate - / That Mushroom - it is Him!”. She dubs the mushroom the “elf of plants”, likely due to the reproductive spore’s variety of sizes, shapes, and colours. Similarly, Plath’s poem “Mushrooms” certainly doesn’t shy away from the gendered connotations of mycelium:“we are shelves, we are Tables, we are meek, We are edible, Nudgers and shovers In spite of ourselves. Our kind multiplies: We shall by morning Inherit the earth. Our foot's in the door.” With Plath’s description of fungi as “meek”, she evokes connotations of the perceived fragility and submissive nature of femininity. The inconspicuous little mushroom is often misjudged. Though small its flavour and aroma can be potent—it can potentially be toxic. Like women, mushrooms often have their power underestimated.
In his The Interpretation of Dreams, Sigmund Freud made the case for the feminine connotations of ecology, mushrooms, and mycelia. What later formed part of the basis for ecofeminist scholarship, Freudian psychoanalysis drew conceptual links between gynocentric values and ecological consciousness. Yet despite the mushroom’s deep synonymy with fantastical Victorian and 20th-century literature, 2021 has seen the mushroom find a cultural resurgence. Perhaps the renewed popularity for the mushroom, as a source of creative inspiration, is down to the resurgence in climate crisis activism, through figures like Greta Thunberg, arguably the face of the climate crisis; the battle for ecological autonomy has always been deeply feminised—both within the literary canon and outside of it.
Although ecofeminism was only established as an academic school of thought in the late 20th century, the origins of ecocentric environmentalism date back to the periods of American transcendentalist and European Romanticism. Valuing nature above culture persisted throughout the Romantic period, notably in William Blake’s poetry which sought to forge links between the colonisation of American soil and the treatment of women. From taking advantage of their naturally fertile qualities to the systematic attempts from the patriarchy to claim ownership of what is not rightfully theirs, the parallels between the exploitation of women and nature are bountiful.
Perhaps there is hope to be found in the contemporary treatment of the mushroom. Today, it seems the mushroom is an emblem of endless potential and creativity. The mushroom offers a sense of magic in the everyday, a symbol of interconnectedness where we are so often confronted with signs of environmental destruction. It is no wonder that mushrooms have continued to inspire writers over the decades; may the humble ‘shroom continue to do so.