The Mushroom at the End of the World

Tsing opens by reflecting on how mushroom hunting depends on smell and that some species are repulsed by the smell of matsutake. She reflects that smell is hard to describe but is always a “response” and a moment of “encounter” (45), whose consequences and meanings are not always readily apparent. To explore the problem of describing such events, she alludes to the work of composer John Cage, whose composition series, “Indeterminacy” also involves mushroom hunting (46). This quality sharply distinguishes mushrooms from humans—they can change shape throughout their life cycle, in response to the environment. Humans can do this on a day-to-day basis, by making choices, and undergo “transformations through encounter” (47). Where part of Tsing’s project is to question what seems obvious, such as the importance of progress and the value of straightforward narratives, she also finds connections that are meant to unsettle. She attempts to complicate the idea that humans are the pinnacle of the natural world.

Tsing recalls that her first attempt to cook matsutake was unsuccessful, and a Japanese friend had to show her the proper method. Over time, she came to find “joy” in the scent (48). This positive association with the scent is common in Japan, and an artificial mushroom scent is even available for purchase. Some Japanese people ardently defend their passion for the fungus, especially its emotional resonance with older family members and childhood exposure to rural life. Some mushroom scientists explicitly rely on this “nostalgia” for their work, as interest in the countryside could expand their research opportunities and even reshape Japanese society, where most people live in cities (49).

In Tsing’s account, science is not purely objective; it depends on emotion. There is no demand for matsutake without sentiment. Tsing points out that matsutake only grow in “disturbed” forests, where original trees have been replaced by the pine that best supports the mushroom (49). Interestingly, this replacement is not passive or inevitable but driven by human activity. Tsing argues that the smell of mushrooms, then, invites us into the past, the stories of the forests that are long gone.

This emotional power of the matsutake mushroom, Tsing underlines, is culturally specific, as most North Americans find it unappealing. This distaste may be overcome, in another case for change and dynamism. Tsing decides that it is “impossible” to describe the smell of matsutake without underlining the mushroom’s history.