Fruiting Bodies, by Kathryn Harlan
“We all have ways of eating our lovers,” (p. 164). ——— Fruiting Bodies is a collection of stories. I haven’t read them all yet, but someone I know recommended that I read the title story, so I did. (I almost feel like I should read the whole book before I post this, but I also just want to post this because I already know the rest will do something to me, too). Agnes and Geb live alone in their cottage in the woods. Geb is at peace with that, as a mostly solitary person who likes a simple life and only wants to nurture her wife. Agnes is a scientist, who used to take trips to town. But a few months ago her body started sprouting mushrooms (some of them poisonous, some of them not), and now she stays tucked away (she’s not so content with this). Every few days, Geb lovingly harvests the mushrooms. An injured man appears from the woods. ——— This singular story was both anxiety inducing and soft. Its prose invoked all the tenderness and the internal emotional violence of love, and I want to eat it and then spit it back out. ——— “There are so many ways to find out what you will do when there is no one else to help you,” (p. 203).










