Este libro no es un ensayo sobre el feminismo. Es el testimonio de una mujer joven que cuenta, desde la rabia y el dolor, cómo la culpa ha moldeado, censurado y limitado el deseo y el placer femenino. No se agota en la denuncia. Narra con una honestidad brutal, libre de prejuicios, cómo las mujeres están luchando de manera individual y colectiva por su placer, y al hacerlo lo convierten en un ejercicio de liberación, resistencia y revolución. María del Mar reivindica las pajas y las fotos desnudas como una manera de que las mujeres se conozcan, y proclama a voz en cuello que “nuestros cuerpos no pueden ser motivo ni de vergüenza ni de castigo ni de chantaje. Nuestros cuerpos son una herramienta de placer y el placer es un derecho fundamental para nuestras vidas”.

Published in 1942 by French author Albert Camus, The Stranger has long been considered a classic of twentieth-century literature. Le Monde ranks it as number one on its "100 Books of the Century" list. Through this story of an ordinary man unwittingly drawn into a senseless murder on a sundrenched Algerian beach, Camus explores what he termed "the nakedness of man faced with the absurd."

After a rough tumble and maybe-serious head injury, a disillusioned trans poet falls for a charming corporate lawyer in a love story that grapples with the explosive ghosts of relationships past, romantic and familial, from the Lambda Award-nominated author of Bellies, Nicola Dinan “Fell down the stairs and woke up a trad wife.” Max is thirty, a published poet and grossly overpaid legal counsel for a tech company. With a lifetime of dysphoria and fuccbois rattling around in her head, Max is plagued with a deep dissatisfaction during what should be the best years of her life. After taking a spill down the stairs at a New Year’s Eve party, she decides to make some changes. First things first: a stab at good old-fashioned heteronormativity. Max thinks she’s found the answer in Vincent, a corporate lawyer and hobby baker, whose trad friendship group may as well speak a foreign language, and whose Chinese parents never pictured their son dating a trans woman. This uncharted territory may have rough terrain, but Vincent cares for Max in a way she’d long given up on as a foolish fantasy. Yet Vincent is carrying his own baggage from his gap year in Thailand a decade prior: an explosive entanglement with a mysterious, gorgeous traveler. Voice-driven, warm, and poignant, Disappoint Me is an exploration of millennial angst, race, trans panic, and the allure of bourgeois domesticity that asks if we are defined by our worst mistakes.

The latter half of the 1940s found the major cities of post-war America in a precarious position. On the one hand, population centers were reabsorbing many thousands of returning veterans into the work force, and into a social system they had not experienced for some years. Previous relationships had changed during their absence, and many were starved for female company. While making the necessary readjustments to the war’s end, major cities such as New York, Chicago, Cleveland, and Los Angeles, were plagued by regionalized mob rule behind the scenes of the entertainment industry, from clubs and casinos to print and film media. Included in the list of supporting institutions and side markets were studios, liquor manufacturing, and all peripheral markets connected with gambling, and prostitution.At the same time, a migration of aspiring young people flooded into cities like Los Angeles in the hope of establishing movie careers, a good percentage of them coming from rural or small town lifestyles. Many were young women who left their homes under a variety of circumstances to enter the bourgeoning Hollywood cinematic culture. Some arrived as runaways, without the necessary funds, personal support, or maturity to face the unexpectedly perilous big city life, and a few did not survive the experience.In the years following World War II, Los Angeles and other large American cities were hit with a series of brutal murders that, in many ways, fit into distinct patterns across the country. The Los Angeles Police Department was overwhelmed, caught up dealing with mob activities, inner corruption, a regional press that brazenly invaded legal confidentiality within the walls of the police department itself, and a lack of advanced technology. As a result, several of the most highly publicized murders committed against young female newcomers went unsolved in perpetuity, and they have remained topics of conversation among crime enthusiasts well into the following century.That said, one of these crimes stands above the others as an iconic example of unthinkably grotesque savagery, a psychopathic act equal to any horror movie Hollywood has produced–the January, 1947 murder of Elizabeth Short, famously dubbed ‘The Black Dahlia’ by an engrossed press and public. The investigative case of Elizabeth Short was - and still is - filled with speculative suspicion so saturated with circumstantial evidence that to accuse a perpetrator outright is all but impossible without immediate qualification and backtracking from the claim. The horrific physical realities of the crime reach out in many directions, toward medical practitioners, the arts, the mob, writers, and in every case, the macabre.In 1969, things were looking up for one of Hollywood’s most marketable actresses. After appearing as a model in fashion magazines and having bit parts on shows during the early part of the decade, Sharon Tate was a star in the making. That summer, she was pregnant with her first child by director Roman Polanski, who had just recently become her husband, and a few months earlier, she had just finished filming The Thirteen Chairs, co-starring Orson Welles.Tragically, superstardom would never come, and even today, over 45 years later, most details of Sharon’s life and career are completely overlooked by people who continue to be morbidly curious about her murder at the hands of the Manson Family on August 9, 1969. The murders committed by Charlie Manson’s followers transfixed America, and Tate has been inextricably linked to one of 20th century America’s most notorious criminals.

Este libro no es un ensayo sobre el feminismo. Es el testimonio de una mujer joven que cuenta, desde la rabia y el dolor, cómo la culpa ha moldeado, censurado y limitado el deseo y el placer femenino. No se agota en la denuncia. Narra con una honestidad brutal, libre de prejuicios, cómo las mujeres están luchando de manera individual y colectiva por su placer, y al hacerlo lo convierten en un ejercicio de liberación, resistencia y revolución. María del Mar reivindica las pajas y las fotos desnudas como una manera de que las mujeres se conozcan, y proclama a voz en cuello que “nuestros cuerpos no pueden ser motivo ni de vergüenza ni de castigo ni de chantaje. Nuestros cuerpos son una herramienta de placer y el placer es un derecho fundamental para nuestras vidas”.

“Las mujeres podemos ser muy horribles, plebe” Para sobrevivir en los rincones más injustos del patriarcado, las mujeres deben ser despiadadas, como asesinas a sueldo. La astucia, la fuerza colectiva, la violencia y las armas siempre están sobre la mesa en tiempos en los que todo vale. En el universo novelesco que trama este magistral libro de cuentos, las situaciones límite y el machismo encarnado en novios, narcos o ladrones de casas se convierten en el combustible de una galería de heroínas. Lejos de vislumbrar un reajuste de desigualdades, Perras de reserva, obra ganadora del Premio Nacional de Cuento Joven Comala 2019, de Dahlia de la Cerda, actúa como un manual narrativo para arrebatar el poder y ejercerlo. Dahlia de la Cerda (Aguascalientes, 1985) es narradora, activista y filósofa. En 2009 fue ganadora del certamen literario Letras de la Memoria, del Centro Cultural Los Arquitos. Ha sido becaria del Programa de Estímulo a la Creación y Desarrollo Artístico, en la emisión 2015, y del Programa Jóvenes Creadores Fonca, en las emisiones 2016 y 2018. Es codirectora en la organización feminista Morras Help Morras.

“Las mujeres podemos ser muy horribles, plebe” Para sobrevivir en los rincones más injustos del patriarcado, las mujeres deben ser despiadadas, como asesinas a sueldo. La astucia, la fuerza colectiva, la violencia y las armas siempre están sobre la mesa en tiempos en los que todo vale. En el universo novelesco que trama este magistral libro de cuentos, las situaciones límite y el machismo encarnado en novios, narcos o ladrones de casas se convierten en el combustible de una galería de heroínas. Lejos de vislumbrar un reajuste de desigualdades, Perras de reserva, obra ganadora del Premio Nacional de Cuento Joven Comala 2019, de Dahlia de la Cerda, actúa como un manual narrativo para arrebatar el poder y ejercerlo. Dahlia de la Cerda (Aguascalientes, 1985) es narradora, activista y filósofa. En 2009 fue ganadora del certamen literario Letras de la Memoria, del Centro Cultural Los Arquitos. Ha sido becaria del Programa de Estímulo a la Creación y Desarrollo Artístico, en la emisión 2015, y del Programa Jóvenes Creadores Fonca, en las emisiones 2016 y 2018. Es codirectora en la organización feminista Morras Help Morras.

El «más allá» nunca estuvo tan cerca. Si creía conocer las investigaciones de J. J. Benítez, se equivoca. Estoy bien es otra vuelta de tuerca en la producción literaria del autor navarro. Veamos algunos pensamientos de Juanjo Benítez sobre el delicado asunto de los «resucitados», como llama él a los muertos que han «Estoy bien es tan increíble como cierto». «Se trata de 160 casos “al sur de la razón”». «Quizá este libro sea mucho más de lo que parece». «Estoy bien debe ser leído despacio, muy despacio». «El padre Azul (y su “gente”) se han sentado conmigo a la hora de escribirlo». «Si usted tiene miedo a la muerte, éste es su libro; si no es así, con más razón». «Algún día seremos esféricos». «Al abrir Estoy bien, usted debería ver una luz». «El concepto “vivo” necesita ser revisado».

A traditional American woman, a beautiful wife and mother who sells her pioneer lifestyle of raw milk and farm-fresh eggs to her millions of social media followers, suddenly awakens cold, filthy, and terrified in the brutal reality of 1805—where she must unravel whether this living nightmare is an elaborate hoax, a twisted reality show, or something far more sinister in this sensational debut novel. My name was Natalie Heller Mills, and I was perfect at being alive. Natalie lives a traditional lifestyle. Her charming farmhouse is rustic, her husband a handsome cowboy, her six children each more delightful than the last. So what if there are nannies and producers behind the scenes, her kitchen hiding industrial-grade fridges and ovens, her husband the Republican equivalent of a Kennedy? What Natalie’s followers—all 8 million of them—don’t know won’t hurt them. And The Angry Women? The privileged, Ivy League, coastal elite haters who call her an antifeminist iconoclast? They’re sick with jealousy. Because Natalie isn’t simply living the good life, she’s living the ideal—and just so happens to be building an empire from it. Until one morning she wakes up in a life that isn’t hers. Her home, her husband, her children—they’re all familiar, but something’s off. Her kitchen is warmed by a sputtering fire rather than electricity, her children are dirty and strange, and her soft-handed husband is suddenly a competent farmer. Just yesterday Natalie was curating photos of homemade jam for her Instagram, and now she’s expected to haul firewood and handwash clothes until her fingers bleed. Has she become the unwitting star of a brutal reality show? Could it really be time travel? Is she being tested by God? By Satan? When Natalie suffers a brutal injury in the woods, she realizes two things: This is not her beautiful life, and she must escape by any means possible. A gripping, electrifying novel that is as darkly funny as it is frightening, Yesteryear is a gimlet-eyed look at tradition, fame, faith, and the grand performance of womanhood.