Some people chase the sun, or the snow, around the world each year; Alison Pouliot follows autumn. Splitting most of her time between Victoria and Switzerland, she roams far and often in pursuit of fungi and its close collaborators. Climbing glaciers, exploring grasslands and deserts, and closely observing forests of every kind, she treads lightly, carries a camera, and meets fellow fungi enthusiasts everywhere – along with the occasional champagne-sharing goth.

Pouliot’s enthusiasm for fungi is remarkable. More surprising yet is how contagious it is, and how little thought many of us give to this underappreciated lifeform. A natural historian, ecologist, photographer and writer, Pouliot is a born storyteller, able to conjure fungi and friends of fungi alike in memorable colour. Having just described an aptly named stinkhorn, Pouliot moves on to the next forest find which is ‘conjuring images of an illicit invertebrate banquet furnished with ouzo and liquorice.’

From fungi-seeking trip to local conservation effort and abroad again, Pouliot observes mycologists, gourmands, conservationists, and opportunistic Instagrammers, and delves into history to explore the role of fungi in mass witch-hunting hysteria, gendered scientific clubs and the life of Beatrix Potter. She traces past knowledge and advocates for new, more sophisticated research, encouraging support for Indigenous knowledge reclaiming, and for a rethinking of Western scientific paradigms in response to groundbreaking research that has revealed the limitations of conceptualising the natural world as primarily competitive. The complex relationships among fungi and other living creatures, and the crucial role of fungi in ecosystem health is inadequately understood, and Pouliot stresses the dangers of environmental decisions made without considering the full picture. By the end of Underground Lovers, you’ll be convinced of the importance of even the smelliest, most parasitic forms of fungi.