A Murder Most Fungal: A Fungalverse Novel

Hofmann Report #1.5

by Adrian M. Gibson

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?

Genres: Fantasy

291 pages, Kindle Edition

Published June 16, 2026

About the author

Adrian M. Gibson is an award-winning Canadian SFF author, podcaster, book designer, and tattoo artist. He is the creator of the SFF Addicts podcast, which he co-hosts with fellow authors M.J. Kuhn and Greta Kelly. The three host in-depth interviews with an array of science fiction and fantasy authors, as well as writing masterclasses. And, as of May 2026, he is the Publishing Project Manager for Grimdark Magazine, heading up their line of fantasy and sci-fi novellas. He lives in Quito, Ecuador with his family.

For the latest updates, follow Adrian on social media @adrianmgibson. You can also stream/watch new episodes of SFF Addicts every Tuesday on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, and more.

Reviews

[Esmay Rosalyne · Rating 4 out of 5]

This review was originally published on Grimdark Magazine

4.25 stars

Ever since falling head over heels in love with Mushroom Blues, I have been dying to see what Adrian M. Gibson would cook up next, and while A Murder Most Fungal was absolutely not what I expected, it turned out to be exactly what I didn’t know I needed. It kind of feels like if you took the mafia family drama of Jade City, blended it with the kitchen chaos of The Bear, and served it up as a Michelin-star tragedy in six courses. And honestly, I gobbled up every single bit of the tension, drama and messy emotional turmoil.

Now, while A Murder Most Fungal is technically book 1.5 in The Hofmann Report series, it actually works perfectly as a standalone, and you can genuinely treat it as either a tantalising appetiser before reading Mushroom Blues or a delectable dessert afterwards. It’s set a few months after the events of the first book, in the aftermath of the Fuyu Massacre as riots, unrest, and whispers of revolution continue to spread through Neo Kinoko while the Coprinian military occupation tightens its grip on the city. Though instead of following Henrietta Hofmann, we’re thrown into the head of an entirely different character who gives us a completely different perspective on this wonderfully weird fungal world, and I absolutely loved that.

“The Coprinians may have invaded and occupied his home, but circumstances dictated that Pocho be more pragmatic. In these unprecedented circumstances, it came down to survival, at all costs. For him and his cooks. And if that meant being the personal chef for the very leader of the occupation, then so be it… It is my duty, he thinks to himself, obscuring the thought from prying fungal minds.”

The grumpy chef Pocho Jiro immediately captured my heart, despite the fact that he honestly does not make it easy to love him. Once a celebrated makizushi chef, he’s now stuck serving as the personal chef and essentially indentured servant to Duncan MacArthur, the military governor responsible for helping maintain that occupation. Which is already a miserable situation before a run-in with some dangerous fungal gangsters leaves Pocho with an impossible choice: assassinate MacArthur or watch his beloved sister die. Safe to say, my old man is not exactly thriving here.

If there’s one thing Gibson is exceptionally good at, though, it’s making me root for morally messy people while they stumble through life making questionable decisions and then having to deal with the painful consequences afterwards. I absolutely ate up the emotional turmoil and inner battles Pocho goes through, and I found his character arc incredibly powerful in the most tragically beautiful way. Watching him wrestle with impossible choices, guilt, grief, loyalty, and the cost of his own ambition was genuinely heartbreaking, and his character arc hit me especially hard because it feels tragic without ever feeling hopeless.

“As a cook, the kitchen is your everything. Say goodbye to friends and family, for the chefs around you will become your friends and family. And say goodbye to love, for food will become your one true love, forever and always.”

What I also really loved was finally getting a native Hōpponese perspective on Neo Kinoko in A Murder Most Fungal, especially one as complicated as Pocho. As much as I came to love Henrietta, she spends a lot of Mushroom Blues viewing the city through a very human lens that ranges from bewilderment to outright hostility, while getting to experience the city through Pocho instead made me appreciate Gibson’s freakishly fantastic imagination in a whole new way. The culture truly feels so rich and lived in, and I just love how the worldbuilding here is so much more than just a cool fungal aesthetic. It was equally fascinating and heartbreaking to see the present-day city and the version that existed before everything went to hell through the flashbacks before each new part, or should I say each new dish? Because yes, the six-course structure was delightful and I am always a sucker for a thematic gimmick that only makes the tragedy of the story hit even harder.

“He yearns for the intimacy of a home that he can feel and connect with. Mycelium doors that open at his touch. Mushroom lamps that dim or brighten based on his emotional state. Fungal furniture that he can nurture in collaboration with the home itself. Little fruiting bodies that grow around doors and entrances, spiritual guardians that protect the space from evil spirits. Even gills and porous surfaces that filter and absorb the smell of his smoking habit. But that home is long gone.”

Yet my favourite aspect of having the Hōpponese perspective was getting to experience the fungalnet through Pocho’s eyes, as this was already one of my favourite aspects of Mushroom Blues. The way Gibson uses it to create a divide between outward expressions and the private thoughts and emotions being shared underneath adds so much nuance to every interaction, and I especially loved how it squeezed even more tension out of the thriller elements as there are constantly multiple layers of conversations, secrets, threats, and emotional undercurrents happening at once that humans would never understand. I do think the side cast fell a bit flat compared to Pocho, but this deep level of complexity to the characters honestly mostly made up for the lack of emotional connection for me.

As dark and twisted as it all sounds, A Murder Most Fungal honestly surprised me with how much human heart it has, and on a personal level it actually ended up being weirdly healing for me. See, you can feel the passion and love that Pocho (and Gibson) has for cooking and the culinary arts bleeding off every page, and as someone who has (had) a very complicated relationship with food, I found it genuinely beautiful to see food portrayed as so much more than simple sustenance. It’s culture, it’s history, it’s art, it’s connection, it’s love, and it’s a way of sharing pieces of yourself with other people and bridging divides. It’s also, admittedly, occasionally a vehicle for murder, extortion, organised crime, and political violence, but I feel like Pocho would prefer it if we did not linger on that too long.

“By blood and by spores, across space and time, the spirits of all shinkin are eternally intertwined. For death is not an end; the lives of the dead persist through memories, and memories are what the living are made of.”

I absolutely devoured A Murder Most Fungal in a single day, and I’m still kind of amazed by how much Gibson managed to fit into less than 300 pages. Not every twist of the knife hurt as much as it could or should have, but the overall experience still left me deeply satisfied in the most bittersweet way possible. The final chapter opens some very exciting doors for Pocho’s future role in the series, and I am already hungry for more. All I can really say is: chef’s kiss. Adrian M. Gibson cooked, and I cleaned my plate.

Thank you to the author for providing me with an eARC in exchange for an honest review, all opinions are my own. A Murder Most Fungal is scheduled for release on 16 June, 2026.

[Adrian Gibson · Rating 5 out of 5]

My first book, Mushroom Blues, kind of broke me creatively. I put so much time and effort into marketing that book (for over a year-and-a-half after launch!), that my writing took a serious nosedive. But I spent months and months rebuilding my confidence and developing a more sustainable routine, and the result of that is A Murder Most Fungal.

I’m so damn proud of this book, and what my protagonist Pocho Jiro and I were able to accomplish together. Yes, this is a crime thriller and a tragedy about a fungal chef, but at its core, this story is a love letter to food and cooking. Much like Pocho put his heart, soul and spores into every dish he cooked, I did the same with every sentence, scene and chapter of this book.

So, to all of you who give A Murder Most Fungal a shot, I sincerely thank you. I hope this story about a messy, complicated, morally gray chef satiates your mind and your heart (and hopefully makes you really hungry, too).

[Stacey Markle · Rating 4 out of 5]

Rtc

[Griffin DV]

Got this pre ordered. Can't wait!!!!!

[☼Bookish in Virginia☼]

Loved MUSHROOM BLUES. And June needs to get hustling; the 16th can't come fast enough.

[M.J. Kuhn · Rating 5 out of 5]

Adrian M. Gibson is back and better than ever with A MURDER MOST FUNGAL!

We get to return to Neo Kinoko, a fungal city under colonizer occupation. Instead of following our favorite cop duo, Hofmann and Nameko, this time we follow Pocho Jiro, a chef who is working as an indentured servant, cooking for the enemy. Things only get worse for poor Pocho from there, as the story expands to involve threats, gangsters, and, of course, murder most fungal.

I love the continual nods to food in the story, both in the prose through Pocho's internal monologue, the importance of cooking and meals in much of the plot, and even the fact that the book is structured in sections defined by courses of a meal (complete with delicious-sounding fungal "recipes").

If you liked MUSHROOM BLUES but were craving more insight into the fungal peoples' culture, this book serves up a double helping of delicious context (pun fully intended). Can't wait to see what Gibson cooks up next! (pun also intended) (okay I'm done with the puns now I promise).

[Lukasz · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5/5

[Sam Womersley · Rating 4 out of 5]

An interesting view on war and the repercussions.

You can clearly feel the cultures used as the base of this story and in some of the language used.

Fungals (humanoids akin to mushrooms) have had their country taken over by Coprinian soldiers. They are forced into poverty and prejudice. A chef has been assigned as the personal chef of the Coprinian Governor who is now in charge of his city. He has faithfully prepared breakfast, lunch and tea for this man for years. Until one of his chefs change everything.

Now he has to do the unthinkable while trying to protect his sister from it all.

Soldiers, gangsters and a chef out of his depth.

An interesting read.

[Michael Hicks · Rating 4 out of 5]

Note: This review was originally published at FanFiAddict.

The weight of consequences are at the heart of Adrian M. Gibson’s A Murder Most Fungal, a stand-alone entry in his Fungalverse series that picks up a short time after the conclusion of his debut novel, Mushroom Blues. Although Mushroom Blues is not required reading, I would high recommend it as it provides plenty of important context and world building for the events that unfold here. Plus, it’s just a damn good book and you should read it anyway, if you haven’t already.

Gibson introduces us to chef Pocho Jiro, who lost his highly celebrated restaurant when the human Coprinians attacked the fungal Hōpponese. In the wake of Coprinian occupation, Pocho and his team have been pressed into serving as the personal chefs for Coprinian Military Governor Duncan MacArthur. Pocho views the job as a way to help save his cooks and allow them to earn their livelihoods, but many view his working for the leader of the fascist army that attacked their world as treason. Pocho is a turncoat and a traitor to some, but to others, like the Kinoko Rose mobsters who want MacArthur dead, he has the potential to be a useful resource… particularly with the right amount of pressure. He can either serve MacArthur his last meal, or he can watch his sister die.

As a fan of Mushroom Blues, I was eager to see what Gibson cooked up for his sophomore effort, and I wasn’t the least bit disappointed. A Murder Most Fungal immediately put me at ease with its opening epigraph quoting Anthony Bourdain, of whom I am a fan. It’s clear throughout A Murder Most Fungal that Gibson is a fan, too, of both Bourdain and chefs in general, exhibiting attention to and an appreciation for culinary arts. Our protagonist is even named after famed sushi chef, Jiro Ono, whose life and work was documented in the 2011 film, Jiro Dreams of Sushi. This documentary no doubt also influenced Bourdain, who wrote two volumes about a sushi chef, named Jiro of course, in a futuristic, and very bloody, Los Angeles. Bourdain also penned a trio of crime novels set at the intersection of food and crime. He left us much too early in 2018, at the age of 61, but his outsized influence lives on and clearly made an impression on Gibson.

While there are occasional spurts of violence throughout A Murder Most Fungal – this a crime noir book, after all – much of the action takes place in the kitchen. The cinematic flair Gibson exhibits when staging and writing about food prep as seen through Pocho’s eyes, one might think they were reading scenes from an extraterrestrial episode of Chef’s Table. It’s easy to visualize the dark interior of Pocho’s kitchen and the frantic bustling of fungoid chefs as they break down and filet fish and meat and mushrooms, lit by the sudden, explosive rise of a grill’s flame as hot oils splash against open fire.

You can feel the twisting threads of inspiration that make up Gibson’s latest, and the author lives up to the long and rich legacies of those that preceded him. A Murder Most Fungal is built on a strong pedigree of celebrity chefs, as well as noir fiction. What makes it most compelling are the ways people’s choices resonate across time. Actions have consequences and choices can be downright damning.

Gibson’s world-building is on point, just as it was in Mushroom Blues, which established a world built very much on the model of recognizably familiar colonial empires, primarily the British occupation of Hong Kong and other territories. The Coprinians rule with racist savagery, convinced of their superiority over the fungal humanoids they war against. Under its layers of decadent food displays and threats of violence, A Murder Most Fungal explores the nature of oppression through military, political, and class warfare, and the ways underground rebellions must function in opposition to fascism. At its most fundamental levels, it’s very much about nature versus industry and the war the rich wage against the world itself. The historical parallels propping up Gibson’s world-building are apparent, but if you look just right you can see more modern crises at its core, like the wealthy techbros and their imperialistic demands to build expansive (and expensive) data centers at the cost of, well, everything.

An inherent, and necessary, darkness exists at the core of A Murder Most Fungal. So, too, does hope and an appreciation for art. Hand-crafted, man- (or in this case, fungal-) made art is celebrated. In the realm of culinary arts, it may not always look pleasing or taste good, but it’s still made with love and can tell a story, about a person, about a culture, of an empire or a world, and that’s still worth respecting and remembering. It’s worth more than we can ever adequately say. And yes, sometimes, it has to be fought for and blood must be spilt in order to exist.

[Will Swardstrom · Rating 5 out of 5]

This review can also be found at: https://fanfiaddict.com/review-a-murd...

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.

[Ian Patterson · Rating 5 out of 5]

I received an ARC from the author in exchange for an honest review.

A Murder Most Fungal presents a classic question - is safety worth the sacrifice of freedom? Years after the spore war, our head Chef Pocho cooks for the occupying Caprinian Governor. He and his team live a life removed from their people, kept under constant watch by guards, tightly controlled in all their movements. Outside their microcosm, the Hopponese starve (physically and spiritually) under colonial rule. But in their kitchen, they have the safety and food supply to create at a level they’re proud of. Is that worth it?

I loved my time with A Murder Most Fungal. It’s fun, expands Adrian’s fungalverse in meaningful ways, and I welled up at the conclusion. It’s also a clear love letter to kitchen life, which resonated. I worked in kitchens for nearly a decade, and although most of them were quite a few shades less professional than one Pocho would run, I was still having flashbacks all the way through. If you’ve spent time in a kitchen and still carry that love for food and camaraderie that comes with it, you’ll connect with a lot here.

It’s a tragedy, and although I carried some hope for a better outcome until I read the ending, I think ultimately this was Adrian’s answer to that underlying question. Pocho chose wrong nearly continuously, and there are consequences that have to be experienced because of it. And it felt clear by the end that he’ll be reforged from that grief.

I can see a future where Adrian has written more of the Fungalverse, and it’s all connected like this web of fungus that bridges plot lines and characters, and I am very here for it. A Murder Most Fungal reads so much like an epic character creation mythology, and I hope we see Pocho pop up again in the future. As I expected from Mushroom Blues, Adrian has gone above and beyond with the formatting, interior art, and supplemental worldbuilding. A Murder Most Fungal is a really lovely book through and through, and I’ll certainly be picking up a physical copy after release.

[Frasier Armitage · Rating 5 out of 5]

I DEVOURED THIS BOOK! A Murder Most Fungal is like Goodfellas meets Ratatouille, and it is *chef’s kiss*.

Picture the gritty, tragic stylings of a Martin Scorsese crime thriller, but told from the perspective of a genius chef that is part-mushroom, and you’ve got yourself one tasty dish for the imagination.

In terms of the mood and vibes, there’s menace and danger and twists and suspense, and the whole thing feels so propulsive. But feeding the vibes is the layered character building that you hope for from the perspective of a mushroom chef in the fungalverse.

For anyone who read Mushroom Blues and wanted more from this world, you won’t be disappointed. But this also works as an excellent starting point for the fungalverse because there is so much world-building on show here, and all of it is blended with plot and character to create a perfectly balanced combination of flavours.

I read this book in one sitting. It felt like a dish best served that way. And I dare you not to do the same.

Give this book all the Michelin stars. It’s a culinary crime caper that takes the formula that works for a show like The Bear and then dials up the grizzle.

100% delicious.

[Hanna · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was the kind of book I read slowly, because I didn't want it to end.

It was so interesting to read from the POV of one of the Hõpponese People. This way we as the reader got to learn more about their culture and way of life. The MC we follow is a cook and owns a restaurant. Food is incorporated to show culture and this is done extremely well. I enjoyed that aspect very much. Gibson makes you care about his characters.

I had a great time reading and was not bored for even one second. The pacing felt determined, but also took the time to show snippets of everyday life. The palette clenser chapters, that were backflashes were done so well and are some of my favourite parts of the book. I enjoyed the ending and how it tied into the series.

You can see how much love and care the author put into this book. From the structure in courses, the little stylistic pictures at the beginning of chapters and in between paragraphs and so many more small things.

One if not the favourite book I read so far. I highly recommend!

I recived an ARC by the author.

[Edward "Gryftkin" Myers · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read an incomplete ARC, but I was really enjoying it. I will edit this review (and possibly adjust my rating) once I get to finish the completed novel. Was definitely looking promising.