As readers open The Mushroom Tapes, they are already aware that Erin Patterson has been convicted for the murders of her in-laws, Gail and Don Patterson, as well as Gail’s sister, Heather Wilkinson. Additionally, she was found guilty of attempting to murder Heather’s husband, Ian Wilkinson. Sentenced to life with a minimum of 33 years before parole, Erin is currently appealing her conviction. This tragic family event has been a topic of intense scrutiny and speculation, dissected by various commentators, professionals, and the public for quite some time.
For 10 weeks, the elaborate and sensational trial details of Erin Patterson were consumed eagerly by the public. This included notable appearances in the courtroom by Helen Garner, Chloe Hooper, and Sarah Krasnostein—three of Australia’s acclaimed nonfiction authors. The trio was spotted in courtroom four in Morwell, Victoria, sparking rumors of upcoming literary works about the case. Shortly after Erin’s conviction, Text Publishing revealed that these writers would be collaborating on The Mushroom Tapes.
I approached this book with a healthy dose of skepticism. Two comprehensive books on the trial have already hit the shelves, with others likely on the way. Do the grieving families not deserve some respite? And what about the timing of this publication—was it necessary to align it with the holiday shopping season?
The authors of The Mushroom Tapes themselves seem torn between a sense of duty and reluctance: “People expect us to cover this story. Our response? No, we insist. But still, we find ourselves drawn to Morwell, pulled in by the narrative’s unexpected force,” they confess in their book.
In The Mushroom Tapes, Garner, Hooper, and Krasnostein are referred to on a first-name basis. Initially planned as a podcast, much of the text is based on their recorded dialogues during commutes between Morwell and Melbourne. Although their stays in Morwell are brief, their exchanges during these trips form a unique oral narrative that captures the essence of their discussions—about friendship, the mundane details of everyday life, and the deeper topics at hand. At one instance, Garner offers snacks to her colleagues, a detail that in another context might have been omitted but here highlights the casual, intimate atmosphere of their interactions.
The conversational tone of the book mirrors the various media that followed Patterson’s trial—podcasts, social media, and so on. Through these discussions, the authors attempt to make sense of the complex web of themes surrounding Erin Patterson’s case—marriage, class, gender roles, financial issues, and peculiarly, mushrooms. “People are obsessed,” notes Hooper. “Whether they’re devouring two podcasts a day or expressing strong aversion, everyone seems to have an opinion on the trial,” she adds.
Thus, we join these insightful women on their journey to Morwell, trying to piece together the courtroom dynamics and Patterson’s path to that point. The dialogue is rich and carefully curated, yet retains the immediacy of their real-time exchanges. Occasionally, this can feel like reading a podcast transcript, which maintains an unyielding present tense that might not suit all readers.
Throughout the book, moments of disagreement and uncertainty among the authors are candidly presented:
Chloe: Are we really going to drive past Erin’s house? I feel conflicted about this.
Sarah: It is a standard part of our research.
Helen: We’re not actually invading anyone’s privacy, for heaven’s sake.
The Mushroom Tapes is not just about passing significant locations; it also involves a lot of ethical introspection. It seems each journalist grapples with the moral implications of their work, a sentiment encapsulated by Janet Malcolm’s notion that the practice of journalism can often feel morally indefensible. Hooper in particular expresses her discomfort: “This trial has turned into a spectacle. I’m uneasy about adding to that narrative,” she admits. Yet, the book was published.
The authors apply a thoughtful approach to discussing the victims and show deep empathy towards Erin and Simon Patterson’s children, burdened with a legacy of pain. “They’ve inherited a heavy burden that they will carry throughout their lives,” Krasnostein poignantly observes.
Nevertheless, it is Erin Patterson who remains a figure of fascination. Krasnostein describes her as oscillating between vulnerability and arrogance, while Hooper perceives a constant air of dissatisfaction emanating from her. Early in their discussions, Garner expresses a chilling sense of identification with Patterson: “It’s not about being sympathetic, it’s just that I see myself in her situation.” As they delve deeper, they realize their own connections to Patterson and her extended family, which only serves to narrow the perceived distance between them and her.
This blend of personal connection and projection is a common theme in contemporary culture. Despite the book’s engaging narrative and sharp observations by Garner, Hooper, and Krasnostein, it struggles to stand out amidst the ongoing public discourse surrounding the Patterson case. The authors, with their nuanced and candid discussions, draw the reader in just as effectively as the sensational headlines that have dominated the media landscape.
