Book Club

Herbal Antivirals (Harrod Buhner, S.; Storey Publishing, 2013) Reviewer: Colette Jones This book is about new viruses, viral infection, pandemics, and immune-supporting and antiviral herbs— ‘the finest chemists’. As SARSCoV-2 sparks Covid-19 worldwide, infecting our imagination and stultifying governments, this book offers perspective, science and therapies.

Reflections on pandemics, viruses, demographic change and medical responses open the book and set a context for emerging pathogenic viruses. Chapters two and three launch into respiratory and encephalitic viral infections and their treatments, embracing; flu, SARS, Adenoviruses, Parainfluenza, Respiratory Syncytial Virus, Rhinoviruses, Japanese Encephalitis, Tick Borne and West Nile Virus. Chapter four mops up other viruses including Herpes and Cytomegalovirus. Buhner’s powerful descriptions of infection progression are accompanied, step-by-step, by details of the antimicrobial virtues of herbs. Don’t be put off by acres of text, such as the eight-page explanation of cytokine cascade; Buhner’s weave of disease aetiology and herbal action is a fine plaid. Therapeutic protocols are described using everyday language with recipes, methods of administration and reflections from personal experience. Under the ‘SARS and Coronaviruses’ subheading, Buhner lists twenty-two herbs active against SARS, having earlier noted about herbal treatments for flu: there are thousands… these are just the ones I have found useful. I, too, found his cough syrup recipe useful; as well as the advice to: just drink it as needed right out the bottle; …none of that 1-tablespoon-ata-time stuff…

Chapters five and six, comprising half the book, are given over to exposition of ‘the top seven antiviral herbs’, with notes on six others, and three herbs that optimize immune function. All are well referenced, but not in the text. Over 1,500 research papers, journal articles, etc. are gathered in a neatly sectioned bibliography, so you can stroll undistracted through Buhner’s rigorous scholarship and relaxed prose. Thoughtful design also makes the vast amount of material in these 182 pages navigable. Individual monographs are found quickly via page headers of the common name of the herb, in bold white font on olive green. Properties of each herb are summarised under ‘actions’ ; ‘active against’ ; ‘use to treat’ ; ‘other uses’ and boxed by a pale green border. Recipes are concise with neat subheadings: ‘ingredients’; ‘to make’; ‘to use’. Shaded boxes, side bars, columns, hue and type make this Materia medica, together with the appendix on medicine making, accessible; demanding to be used.

The book is a perfect blend of science and spirit, written to stimulate our thinking and create a more effective healing paradigm. Viruses, Buhner proffers, are not some ‘virulent other’ — they are colleagues, ancestors. We need to comprehend to respond diligently. I am a fan of the TV series Killing Eve, and orthodox medicine holding up dexamethasone to SARS-CoV-2 is like MI6 officer Eve waving a toilet brush at the assassin Villanelle. Herbalists halt, momentarily perplexed. Can we leap forward, take orthodoxy by the throat and yell ‘Stop screaming! We-just-want-to-show-youthousands-of-healing-plants!’? Buhner invites us to bring our own genius, in whatever form, to the world. Read this book and play your part.

Plant Magic (Kenicer, G.J.; Royal Botanical Gardens Edinburgh, 2020) Reviewer: Diane Gardner

In the far north of Lancashire in the 1950s, my mum would take her canvas bag down from the peg on the back door and off we would go— gathering all manner of plants and berries. But no Blackberries (Rubus fruticosus) would ever be picked after the end of September. We would collect armfuls of kindling— but only the ‘right’ kind of wood, and it must not contain a trace of lichen or sap or greenery of any kind (very bad luck). Salt was thrown onto the newly lit fire of a morning, to chase any witches from out of the chimney. And if we misplaced anything at home? Well, that would be the work of the Boggarts, who had craftily hidden it. So, it was such a joy to read this fascinating book and discover the origins of some of my mother’s many superstitions.

This book is easy to read and understand, beautifully illustrated throughout— by Sharon Tingey and Jacqui Pestell —and filled to the brim with interesting folklore, magic, witchcraft, and botanical information. After its helpful and detailed introduction, the book is then divided according to different categories of plant; woody plants, trees, shrubs, climbers, herbs, cryptogams, algae, fungi, and mystery plants. The contents of each section are set out in alphabetical order, making it user-friendly and easy to refer back to— so, should you be interested in extending your knowledge or discovering the folklore of any particular tree or plant, you will find that it’s very easy to locate.

More than taking a historical look at the folklore of individual plants, however, Plant Magic gives us an insight into the lives of our ancestors— how they tried to protect themselves from all manner of evils, prevent diseases and even bewitch others. For instance, who knew that, in Victorian Somerset, Deadly Nightshade (Atropa belladonna) was cut into pieces and worn as a necklace by children, to prevent teething fits? Or that the juice of the berries was dropped into the eyes of Italian women to dilate their pupils and make them appear more attractive?

I was particularly intrigued by the story of Anne Bodenham, a late witch of Salisbury, who sent her ruffian-like spirits to gather Vervain (Verbena officinalis) and Dill (Anethum graveolens), to be given to one whom she sought to bewitch. It was an anecdote that left me curious to discover more about Anne Bodenham, and who it was she was trying to bewitch!

All in all, this is a wonderfully entertaining and informative book. I now know why Mum wouldn’t let us pick Blackberries after Michaelmas on the 29th September— after this time, apparently, the Devil has spat upon them. And, just in case you were wondering, I can now tell you the safest time to plant Parsley (Petroselinum spp.); if you plant it on Good Friday, when the Devil is held at bay, then you should be as right as rain. I would offer one warning that isn’t in these pages, though: if you are thinking of buying this book as a gift, order two copies— you will almost certainly want to keep one for yourself.

Scottish Plant Lore: An illustrated flora (Kenicer, G.J.; Royal Botanical Gardens Edinburgh, 2018) Reviewer: Marianne Hughes

This beautiful book is a joy to hold, to read, and to admire— the illustrations are exquisite. This is not surprising, since the book was partly inspired by the Scottish Botanical Art Worldwide exhibition, shown at the Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh and in 25 other countries, in 2018. The full-page illustrations reflect the RBGE’s famous Herbarium collection, and include drawings and sketches from 15th, 16th, 17th & 18th century publications as well as watercolours from contemporary women artists. Thus, a unique appeal of the book is the equal value it places on botanical illustration for scientific knowledge and for aesthetic beauty— all this running alongside the informative, thoroughly researched text.

The book’s chapters cover: Seashore, Wetlands, Grasslands, Woodlands, Moorland & Mountains, and Human Habitats. A selection that celebrates the rich variety of habitat we enjoy in Scotland. Kenicer’s writing is amusing, accessible and interesting, drawing on epistemology and ethnobotany to debate the origins of specific plant uses. As he reflects: almost all human communities continue to rely on plants for their existence. Plants also enrich our lives.

Perhaps during the recent months of this pandemic, we have all appreciated that sense of the plant world carrying on around us, providing nurture and hope. In this book, the rich tradition and folklore of plant uses in Scotland is outlined and referenced. And those uses are many and various— from medicine and dyes, through to baskets, ropes, mattresses, clothes and traps. Kenicer tells tales of the Burry Man parade in South Queensferry, featuring Burdock (Arctium minus), first recorded in the mid-1600s; of the use of a poultice of Hemlock (Conium maculatum) to treat a cancer sore in the 19th century; and of a children’s game called ‘bleedy tongues’ that involved Cleavers (Galium aparine). You’ll have to read the book to find out more!

This book would make a wonderful present for anyone interested in medicinal plants, folklore, botanical illustrations, Scottish plant history, ethnobotany and beautiful books. It really is one to treasure.

For the Love of Trees: A Celebration of People and Trees (Allan, V. & Deacon, A.; Black & White Publishing, Edinburgh, 2020) Reviewer: Kyra Pollitt

Back when I was a Herbology student at RBGE, I invited a local community folk choir— Castle Chorus —to sing to my little plot. They took to the task wholeheartedly, even creating bespoke songs for the plant list I had given them. So, I was delighted to discover that the gorgeous photography in this volume is the work of the daughter of one of those singers. Residents of Edinburgh might well recognise some of the trees and locations in these stunning images. Such recognition elicits a warm tingle, and that brings us to the central theme of this book. As its author Vicky Allen observes, this is a book about: …love— and it’s also partly, perhaps, an acknowledgement of need and dependency.

The book addresses all kinds of relationships with trees. Although it is divided into fifteen sections— covering aspects such as grief, constancy, ecology, connection, time, childhood, spirituality, belief, and activity —the voices of the many contributors are allowed to mingle even to the point of entanglement, like many leaves in a canopy. And there is a cornucopia of contributors here— from the ever-wonderful Jackie Kay, to RBGE’s own David Knott, pictured mid one of the 350 tree hugs of his fundraising initiative to save the Sequoiadendrons at Benmore. There are plenty more famous faces; Chris Packham, Dame Judi Dench, Kirsty Wark, India Knight, Miranda Hart, Alastair Campbell, Isabella Tree, Tom Kitchin… I recognised others, too. Vroni Holzmann talks of the piano compositions she has created in response to trees. She once taught piano to my daughter— the daughter who is now a climate activist. I’m sure I met Katie Smith when I took part in a performed reading of the IPCC’s Report on Global Warming. René Sommer Lindsay is a family friend. These are not vainglorious claims. Rather, they speak to human interconnectedness, to our own society. And this book invites us not just to consider trees, but trees’ relationships to each other, our relationships to trees and, inevitably, our relationships to each other. Reading it left me happily contemplating all sorts of questions about why we find comfort in trees, whether we reflect trees in some way, whether— when we took that evolutionary climb down from their branches —we carried their sense of society down with us…

The other humans in this book made me grow. I was drawn to Yu Zhang, a student, whose short entry records her dream to: be a tree in my next life, so I could stand in a forest and see how the world changes. The entries from even younger people were also particularly inspiring. Eleven-year-old Elian’s simple instructions on how to climb trees reignited some long-ignored ember in a forgotten corner of my ageing soul. So, I’ve finished reading this book and yet I haven’t. In these strange times, I know I’ll return to it again and again as a source of beauty and nourishment— much like we return to trees. In the meantime, I’m taking a friend to our local woodland for a spot of tree-hugging and perhaps a climb or two. Thanks, Elian.

Are you reading something you would recommend to others? We’re always interested in reviews of books to share with fellow herbal folk. Please simply send us a review, or get in touch: herbologynews@gmail.com

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