Synopsis:
Return to the mushroom metropolis of Neo Kinoko, immerse yourself in a sinister world of gangsters, blackmail, and fungal cuisine, and prepare for a Michelin-star tragedy in six courses.
The knives are out in this fast-paced, standalone Fungalverse novel. Set several months after the events of the award-winning Mushroom Blues, this side story combines the culinary wonder of Jiro Dreams of Sushi, the kitchen chaos of The Bear, and the explosive tension of Hong Kong crime thrillers.
In the aftermath of the “Fuyu Massacre,” riots and whispers of revolution continue to plague the Hōpponese capital of Neo Kinoko. As a result, the iron grip of a foreign military occupation tightens day by day. Amidst this, Pocho Jiro, a once-renowned makizushi chef, has chosen to cook for Duncan MacArthur—the Coprinian Military Governor in Hōppon—as his personal chef… and indentured servant.
A run-in with dangerous fungal gangsters sets off a chain of events that Pocho cannot escape from. He’s left with two choices: Assassinate MacArthur, or watch his beloved sister die in front of his eyes. Will Pocho take up his knife and prepare MacArthur’s final meal?
Review:
With swift and precise writing, Adrian M. Gibson has presented us with an Umami Bomb of fiction with his latest, A Murder Most Fungal, a continuation of his Fungalverse that he started two years back in Mushroom Blues.
Umami, for those unfamiliar, is a flavor profile, alongside sweet, salty, sour, and bitter. The word in Japanese literally can be translated to “deliciousness,” which is what Gibson has crafted with this new story. There is a quality to the story that’s a little hard to pin down, but ultimately the world feels so lifelike and lived in that its clear that Gibson has invested so much of himself into perfecting his Fungalverse that you kinda can’t help but love it a little bit.
I like watching cooking shows. I don’t like seafood and I don’t understand what they’re always doing, but I love them anyway. I can see they are talented and that they judges understand what makes a good meal, so I have to trust their judgement. I may not understand how steak tartare actually works or tastes, but that’s not the point of the shows. We see these people compete at the highest level and they put themselves on the line to accomplish something they’ve never done before. THAT is what we relate to.
I’ll be honest — I don’t totally understand Gibson’s Fungalverse. How are mushroom people alive and living their lives like regular humans? How does their connection to the mycelium network actually function? I don’t really know…but I’m putting my trust in Adrian M. Gibson. His world is so well-constructed and conceived that I’ll just give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides…the intricate details of how the mushrooms work and interact is frankly pretty minor. The structure of the story itself is one that we’re all familiar with — a man pushed into the corner, his family and friends threatened if he doesn’t do what a shadowy organization wants.
That man — Pocho Jiro — is a renowned makizushi chef, serving as personal chef and de facto indentured servant to the imperial governor of Hōppon, Duncan MacArthur. Soon after the book gets going, we see that Pocho is targeted for blackmail by a homegrown terrorist organization demanding MacArthur’s death…or Pocho’s sister’s.
One of the great things about A Murder Most Fungal was what Gibson had Pocho doing while he wasn’t in the kitchen. Through a series of flashbacks, we see the growth and evolution of Pocho’s culinary career, even as family expectations and tragedy work against him. But, we also see more of the fungalnet and what our mushroom protagonists can do with the mycelium network. I was moved when Pocho and his sister visited their mother’s burial place and how the trees, fungus, and themselves all interacted, even years after her death. The introspection into his and his sister’s lives, even as he’s metaphorically staring down the barrel of a gun, was something that too many around the world probably do each and every day in harrowing circumstances.
The story had me on a knife’s edge, particularly as Pocho and his sous chef Mori hashed out their plan to save his sister, Kiko. The ending may not satisfy everyone, but given the stakes, I totally understand what Gibson was doing after the climax of the story. Only in the closing scenes do we get a brief appearance by Detective Henrietta Hofmann and her partner Nameko (the two leads from Mushroom Blues), casually letting the audience know this ties into the larger story and that they’ll be back in the future with more cases.
I can’t say that I like mushrooms. I find them slimy and I don’t like the mouthfeel. But…I adore the flavor. Whatever you think of A Murder Most Fungal, the unique flavor that Gibson has infused in the pages of the story permeates every moment. You may not understand it, but the passion that Gibson has for cooking and for the universe he’s created seeps into every corner of the story. I highly recommend A Murder Most Fungal, and will even go so far as to say you don’t have to read Mushroom Blues first (but also highly recommended).
For a little unique flavor to your bland TBR, check out A Murder Most Fungal by Adrian M. Gibson.
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