Apparently it started like this: Sarah and Chloe were to-ing and fro-ing about whether they’d write anything about the ‘mushroom case’.

None of us wants to write about this. And none of us wants not to write about it.

And then they roped in Helen.

One wild domestic detail galvanises us: his dying aunt remembered the guests ate off four grey plates, while the hostess served herself on an orange one.

Can you imagine the team at Text Publishing when they discovered that Helen, Chloe and Sarah said, ‘Yeah, we’ll do something but only if we can do it together’? Publishing pay-dirt.

And so we have The Mushroom Tapes by Helen Garner, Chloe Hooper and Sarah Krasnostein.

Even if you have no interest in this case, and even if you have no interest in true crime, avid readers will be drawn to this book for the novelty format alone. And if you like the work of any or all of the authors, it’s a must-read. Their individual styles come through so distinctly – Helen with her inquisitive, thinking-out-loud observations; Chloe’s gentler narrative approach; and Sarah’s journalistic and forensic attention to detail.

Sarah: Helen and I texted ‘a nice bowl of porridge’ to each other at the same time, and I knew she had teared up too. It’s those tiny, quotidian details that contain the world – we can all relate to them.

The book is essentially a record of their conversations – recorded as they drove to Morwell, where the trial was held; or in their motel rooms at the end of the day; or phone conversations from Melbourne to Morwell (when they did not get a balloted seat in the small Morwell courtroom, they accessed a live telecast of proceedings at the Supreme Court in Melbourne). There’s some scene setting and other contextual detail, and although it’s chronological, the book is arranged around themes – the court, the death cap, the victims, and so on. Overall, it reads like a play, with the three authors slowing unfolding the drama.

Chloe: Even the way that she behaved after the murderous lunch is unhinged.
Sarah: And again, there’s this keeling between deep premeditation and…
Chloe: …no plan at all.
Sarah: Why didn’t she smash that dehydrator into a million pieces and bury each shard in the bush? … It must be one of the worst own goals in history, and it exists alongside this meticulous, calculated planning. Bigness and smallness.

Ultimately their observations are speculation, but the observations are so interesting and articulate. They explore the parallels with folklore; the ‘data’ on female poisoners (they usually have ‘strong wish-fulfillment fantasies’); Erin’s apparent feelings of ‘not belonging’; the ‘domestic’ nature of this crime (and hence the public fascination for the case); the metaphor of fungal spores and ‘murderous intent’ (with the same applied to phone networks and fungi); and the significance of religion in the story.

Helen: The thing about female poisoners is it’s the flip side of mothering. It’s the most appalling betrayal of what women are supposed to be like. We’re supposed to nourish and put in front of people food that brings life to them. This story is an inversion.

I read this book in two sittings. There are lots of little facts that I hadn’t known (it probably doesn’t hold anything new for the true-crimers who followed the case closely), but read it for the banter between these three marvelous authors.

4/5

Chloe:…I admit, though, that every time somebody mentions beef Wellington, I hear a little bell of absurdity ring. It’s such a flamboyantly retro dish. … When I admitted this bell-ring to Sarah, she put me right beautifully. The reason this story is so compelling is that it has everything in it that’s human, including absurdity. 

Is it completely tone deaf to pair this book with RecipeTin Eats recipe for beef Wellington…?!