Like supernatural noir and wish it were more LGBTQ+ friendly? Do you enjoy an afternoon of sexy goblins, animated Christmas cookies, and smart-mouthed leprechauns angry about pixies stealing their jobs? Do you ship the grumpy one with the happy one? If any of this applies to you, or you’re just looking for a fun set of short stories to read with gay protagonists and supernatural beings, I highly recommend Grilled Cheese and Goblins: Adventures of a Supernatural Food Inspector (hereafter, Grilled Cheese).
Grumpy and rumpled former chef and restaurateur turned supernatural food inspector Keith Curry won me over from the first slice of cheese. And no, I don’t mean metaphorical cheese—though there is sometimes a bit of camp involved in these supernatural short stories—I mean actual grilled cheese. It’s Curry’s favorite food of course (lol, food puns). This isn’t my first foray into Blind Eye Books’ repertoire, and I was not disappointed.
A Brief (Spoiler Free) Rundown
Vampire Hunter. Leprechaun Fighter. Food Inspector.
Keith Curry has his work cut out for him.
NATO’s Irregulars Affairs Division is a secret organization operating in thousands of cities around the globe. Its agents police relations between the earthly realm and those beyond this world, protecting citizens from both mundane and otherworldly dangers.
Former chef turned NIAD food inspector, Special Agent Keith Curry found out about magic the hard way and is now determined to keep dinner safe for everybody. Includes the novellas “Cherries Worth Getting,” “Magically Delicious” and the never-before-published “Bring Out Your Best” plus bonus shorts and more!
The Good Stuff
Supernatural noir is my brain candy genre; not that it can’t be edgy and dark, only I prefer the kind with a bit of humor about itself. There’s something charming about the culture clash inherent in modern noir detective stories set in a supernatural world with fae, goblins, pixies, and magic. There’s so much potential for banal absurdity too, like in Grilled Cheese’s “The Most Important Meal of the Day,” which sees our protagonist cooking breakfast for a mage to undo the Lovecraftian apocalypse currently destroying the city. Something about making blintzes while a many-eyed monster with blood-red tentacles decapitates people makes me cackle with glee.
Which is to say that the worldbuilding for this series of short stories all centered around Keith Curry is fantastic. The first few paragraphs of the first story utterly immersed and engrossed me. The world felt lived in, vast, yet not overwhelming. As if this world just is and we’re seeing only a tiny corner of it. Author Nicole Kimberling knows how to create a sense of comfort in this world that’s both familiar and different from our own. She’s clearly done her work creating this vision of supernatural reality, yet it doesn’t feel either stale or overly complicated. We know enough details to get us through understanding each of the stories without getting lost. However, I never felt bogged down by exposition or encumbered by explanations. She finds that perfect balance between detailed and info-dumpy.
The tone and ambiance come across right away as well, the noir-adjacent hard-boiled detective vibe yet, once again, without feeling like I’ve seen too much of this before. The stories balance humor with gruesome elements well, and I appreciate that it doesn’t take itself or the genre too seriously. Some of the plot elements can be a bit absurd, but who cares? He’s a supernatural food inspector chasing down contraband pixie dust and extra-human steroids contaminating the supernatural blood supply. There’s bound to be a bit of absurdity to it, and I like that. Like I said, I like some camp with my supernatural crime dramas. Helps balance out the thought of fruit ripening out of human body parts.
Speaking of supernatural noir, it’s nice to see an example of the genre with queer characters that isn’t bait-y. (I don’t kneed to mention the television show I’m thinking of here, you know which one I mean.) And I’m all about characters for whom being queer is just part of their story; they’re not Gay™. They just a food inspector and his hot, strike team goblin boyfriend who work for a government agency focused on “irregular affairs.” I also love that the protagonist is a former chef and his role is tracking down food contamination, which is a unique spin on a supernatural investigator that leads in some surprising directions.
Speaking of characters, they’re excellent. Kimberling writes Keith with a deft touch. Too much cranky, and a protagonist can veer into obnoxious real fast. Keith has just the right amount of cynicism and pessimism to be enjoyable (I always love the ‘grumpy lobster’ characters with hearts of gold, like Toby from The West Wing). Plus, we get to see him change and mellow out a bit over the course of the stories, especially in his relationship with and thoughts about his boyfriend, Gunther Heartman a ‘trans-goblin’ whose physical features had been permanently altered in utero to make him appear fully human (see below).
Gunther, with his optimistic, gentle, thoughtful personality balances out Keith nicely. For characters that on paper seem like tropes (the cheerful one and the grumpy one, e.g.), Keith and Gunther don’t feel like tropes at all. They’re three dimensional, interesting, and fun characters who truly let us see multiple sides of what living in this world is like. There are some truly delightful secondary characters I wish we got more of as well. Johanna, Damien, and Susan from “Bring Out Your Best” were some of my favorites, plus I did wind up enjoying the mage from “The Most Important Meal of the Day” more than I expected I would when I first started the story.
The sex scenes are tastefully done and emotion/romance focused, which is how I like my romance. I read fewer queer male stories than I do queer female stories, and I tend to be less invested in male/male pairings, but this couple utterly charmed me. They’re well-written, engaging, and have great chemistry together. It helps that the stories they exist in are so entertaining, too.
Kimberling’s use of ‘trans-goblin’ for characters of goblin heritage who had been transmogrified in utero to be fully human looking stood out to me as potentially loaded. As a cisgendered woman, I cannot comment on the impact or implications that such terminology would have on the transgendered community. However, I did want to point it out, as it is a major facet of Gunther’s identity and informs the way Keith interacts with and thinks about him.
More than that specific wording, there’s something uncomfortable about seeing a marginalized identity and community correlated with a being whose heritage isn’t just accusations of violence and murder but actual predation on humans. Trans-goblins aren’t the only fae beings given LGBTQ+ coding in the stories, and marginalization of the fae and other supernatural beings frequently functions as an analogy for LGBTQ+ marginalization. I’ve seen such coding before (X-Men, for example), and on the one hand, I understand why so many writers find the analogy appealing. It’s a way to discuss current and historical socio-political and religious marginalization without sounding too preachy.
However, my concerns with it here are the same as when it’s used elsewhere. There’s a double-edged sword in using magical and dangerous beings as stand-ins for marginalized community: it both accurately conveys the fear non-marginalized folks have of LGBTQ+ people and inaccurately, and likely inadvertently, affirms the perceived danger. Humans would have a right to be afraid of beings that drink their blood or feast on their flesh, or have done so historically. Being afraid of mutants who can kill you with a touch, mages who can throw fireballs at you, or superhumans that can crush your skull with two fingers makes sense when you’re a squishy human without powers. That same fear when applied to queer folks or other marginalized communities is unfounded and based in bigotry rather than actual fact.
Because of this disparity, I’m always uncomfortable with stories that situate actually dangerous or historically violent/predatory entities as stand-ins for marginalized communities. Your mileage may vary, and Kimberling’s use of this trope didn’t ruin my enjoyment. Like I said above, I enjoyed this world, these characters, and the stories themselves. This is just something to be aware of going in.
Final Score : 9/10
Note: Since I am not qualified to speak on the issue of the handling of trans-ness or its association with Gunther’s goblin identity, I can only discuss the other elements of the story.
Overall, this series of short stories is an entertaining read. The really short snippets are delightful, though only work in a volume like this one where they have context. I enjoyed each of the mysteries, which were engaging and quick reads. Perfect for an afternoon or to read on commute. As mentioned, my discomfort with associating marginalized identities with dangerous magical beings wasn’t enough to quell my enjoyment. So, in the end, the well-developed characters, a fascinating and well-fleshed out world, and a good balance in tone and ambiance make this series of shorts a winner for me.
About the Author
Nicole Kimberling is a novelist, editor and podcast creator. Her first novel Turnskin, won the Lambda Literary Award. Other speculative fiction works include Happy Snak, The Sea of Stars and a variety of short stories and novellas. Contemporary works include The Bellingham Mystery Series, set in the Washington town where she resides with her wife of thirty years. She is the creator and writer of the podcast “Lauren Proves Magic is Real!” an audio drama exploring the day-to-day case files of Special Agent Keith Curry as told by his twelve-year-old cat sitter. Prior to becoming a novelist she cooked in restaurants for twenty years and synthesizes her philosophical thoughts about food and cooking in a recurring column for Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet. You can contact her @nkimberling69 or www.nicolekimberling.com.
Note: The author of this review received a copy of the book in exchange for a free and honest review.