What Moves the Dead

There has been somewhat of a renewed interest in all things fungi since the Last of Us depicted a post-apocalyptic world ravaged by such an infection that could spread to humans. It's one of those things that at first glance seems worryingly within the realm of possibility, all too well described in the introduction to the aforementioned TV series. We share genetic characteristics with fungi, including mushrooms, and it's thought that if you go back far enough, say a billion years or so, we would have a common ancestor. Mushrooms are more closely related to us than plants; they store carbohydrate energy as glycogen like we do and produce vitamin D when exposed to sunlight. Some fungi are even known to move.

The type of fungus The Last of Us depicted, ophiocordyceps unilateralis (a member of the Cordyceps genus), in reality infects insects and turns them into zombies. Scientists don't seem concerned that this could become a reality for us, but other fungi are still dangerous, killing around 1.5 million people each year. A sobering statistic.

Anyway, why are we talking about all things fungi? It's not much of a spoiler to mention that fungal infection is at play in T. Kingfisher’s What Moves the Dead—after all, it's right there on the cover. A re-interpretation of Edgar Allen Poe's short story, The Fall of the House of Usher, What moves the dead maintains the rich historical atmosphere of the 1890's, while adding layers of psychological dread and horror along with a dialogue on the nature of decay, both environmental and familial.

Kingfisher’s reinterpretation follows Alex Easton, a retired soldier, as they arrive at the crumbling Usher estate to visit their childhood friends, Madeline and Roderick Usher. The setting—a damp, desolate landscape filled with an unnatural quiet—immediately establishes a sense of impending doom. Much like Poe's original vision, the house itself is almost a character in its own right, with descriptions of walls infused with rot and decay, while the very foundations themselves seem infected with a similar malady to that of its inhabitants. Like the house, the wider setting, from the rolling hills to the unnaturally still waters of the tarn, seem almost lifeless, stagnant. A liminal space where time seems sluggish and the past is indistinguishable from the present. This theme of temporal dislocation echoes that of Poe’s, reinforcing the notion that the Ushers' existence lies in a space outside the natural order, with the family and estate trapped in an inevitable decline.

The author does an excellent job of tying the story to the period of the time. The 1890s were a time of transition as emerging scientific discoveries clashed with old-world superstitions. The Victorians were deeply fascinated with the macabre, spiritualism, and the unknown, a view that coexisted and often clashed with the rapid advancements in medicine and biology. Diagnosis for conditions still included the use of vague descriptions when the real reason could not be easily determined, with phrases such as "The vapours", "consumption" and "ague". While germ theory was beginning to find some acceptance, mycology was still very much in its infancy, mostly misunderstood but being studied for its effects on both nature and human health. At the same time, diseases like tuberculosis, syphilis, and other mysterious ailments spread unchecked, and this story captures both the anxieties of the era and its obsession with the natural world's more sinister side.

While not new, the theme of fungi as an agent of horror is compelling. This isn't some supernatural malevolence but a biological one. A creeping, sporing, insidious enemy with little understood and complex life cycles. It's all the more unsettling to know that these infectious fungi do, in reality, infect living creatures (albeit insects) and that infiltration and grotesque mimicry tap into a primal fear over the loss of bodily autonomy.

In addition to its horror elements, the novel delivers sharp and engaging dialogue, with interesting characters and a pragmatic yet deeply human protagonist in Alex Easton. Their interactions with others, particularly the no-nonsense English mycologist Dr. Denton, add both levity and intellectual intrigue to the narrative.

Ultimately, What Moves the Dead is a chilling, atmospheric novel that successfully pays homage to The Fall of the House of Usher while carving out its unique niche in Gothic horror. Kingfisher’s skillful blend of historical fiction, psychological terror, and body horror makes for a deeply unsettling but thoroughly engrossing read.