TENDER WHATEVER, - MAYA CORDERO
PREORDER NOW :))
SHIPPING JUNE 5TH IN THE US / JUNE 10TH IN EUROPE
Maya Cordero's tender whatever, is many things—a harrowing dispatch from the front lines of what America has devolved into, a refreshingly real treatise on addiction, an exquisite reckoning with girlhood—but "it's all never heroin," as Cordero herself writes. Cordero, who gracefully lays her body atop the small and blurred line between girl and meat, both reaffirms and makes us question whether words can still be—have ever been—enough. In the lyric tradition of Ginsberg and evocative of T Fleischmann, but in a realm that is certainly her own, Cordero shows us ourselves at our ugliest and most beautiful, our most vulnerable and our strongest.
- Francesca Kritikos, editor in chief of SARKA
Maya Cordero’s tender whatever, is a book about trying to write a book when you can’t remember the story. Except maybe you can enough to see history peeping out from between god’s thighs. A sardonic elegy written for the modern girl, Cordero maps out pussy architecture, overdoses the colloquial, and occasionally sugars us with the kindness of a cigarette. She hangs our literary-political climate at the axis of two questions: can you fill a hole with a gun or only make one? and how bad do things have to get before I show hole? The book is a timeless, transexy moment in time, an act of service to the service industry addicts, an estrogenic pocket filled with barely hidden love.
– L Scully, author of SELF-ROMANCING (Dopamine, 2025)
PREORDER NOW :))
SHIPPING JUNE 5TH IN THE US / JUNE 10TH IN EUROPE
Maya Cordero's tender whatever, is many things—a harrowing dispatch from the front lines of what America has devolved into, a refreshingly real treatise on addiction, an exquisite reckoning with girlhood—but "it's all never heroin," as Cordero herself writes. Cordero, who gracefully lays her body atop the small and blurred line between girl and meat, both reaffirms and makes us question whether words can still be—have ever been—enough. In the lyric tradition of Ginsberg and evocative of T Fleischmann, but in a realm that is certainly her own, Cordero shows us ourselves at our ugliest and most beautiful, our most vulnerable and our strongest.
- Francesca Kritikos, editor in chief of SARKA
Maya Cordero’s tender whatever, is a book about trying to write a book when you can’t remember the story. Except maybe you can enough to see history peeping out from between god’s thighs. A sardonic elegy written for the modern girl, Cordero maps out pussy architecture, overdoses the colloquial, and occasionally sugars us with the kindness of a cigarette. She hangs our literary-political climate at the axis of two questions: can you fill a hole with a gun or only make one? and how bad do things have to get before I show hole? The book is a timeless, transexy moment in time, an act of service to the service industry addicts, an estrogenic pocket filled with barely hidden love.
– L Scully, author of SELF-ROMANCING (Dopamine, 2025)
PREORDER NOW :))
SHIPPING JUNE 5TH IN THE US / JUNE 10TH IN EUROPE
Maya Cordero's tender whatever, is many things—a harrowing dispatch from the front lines of what America has devolved into, a refreshingly real treatise on addiction, an exquisite reckoning with girlhood—but "it's all never heroin," as Cordero herself writes. Cordero, who gracefully lays her body atop the small and blurred line between girl and meat, both reaffirms and makes us question whether words can still be—have ever been—enough. In the lyric tradition of Ginsberg and evocative of T Fleischmann, but in a realm that is certainly her own, Cordero shows us ourselves at our ugliest and most beautiful, our most vulnerable and our strongest.
- Francesca Kritikos, editor in chief of SARKA
Maya Cordero’s tender whatever, is a book about trying to write a book when you can’t remember the story. Except maybe you can enough to see history peeping out from between god’s thighs. A sardonic elegy written for the modern girl, Cordero maps out pussy architecture, overdoses the colloquial, and occasionally sugars us with the kindness of a cigarette. She hangs our literary-political climate at the axis of two questions: can you fill a hole with a gun or only make one? and how bad do things have to get before I show hole? The book is a timeless, transexy moment in time, an act of service to the service industry addicts, an estrogenic pocket filled with barely hidden love.
– L Scully, author of SELF-ROMANCING (Dopamine, 2025)