
Summary
In the world after the “transition,” when animals have been infected by a virus called GGB that scientists were unable to cure, the government — pressured by corporations — makes the decision to legalize cannibalism. Humans, now referred to as “heads,” are bred, kept, and slaughtered for their skin, extremities, and meat.
Marcos’ father once ran a meat processing plant for traditional meats — cows, pigs, and the like — until the transition. As his father’s health began to decline, Marcos sold the plant to cover debts and keep their home. After placing his father in the best nursing home around, he left his low-paying government job to work for Señor Krieg at the Krieg Processing Plant, where he now serves as plant manager and right-hand man.
At the plant, Marcos oversees the process as the heads arrive alive but are quickly killed, stripped of hair, and broken down into parts and pieces to be sold off to local butchers, tanneries, game reserves, or laboratories.
After a meeting with the owner of a breeding center, El Gringo, Marcos is sent a gift: a female first-generation pure (FGP) — the highest quality head available. Marcos doesn’t want or need her, so he keeps her in his shed for a few days. He feeds her, gives her blankets for warmth, and eventually bathes her. She’s a burden and an expense he never accounted for.
Grieving the loss of his son and estranged from his wife, Marcos often numbs his pain with alcohol — frequently drinking until he passes out, sometimes outside. He also has an attachment to the local zoo that has long since been shut down and abandoned. Marcos visits the empty zoo to relive memories with his father and recall life before the transition.
In one of Marcos’ darker moments — or perhaps moments of numbness — he does the unthinkable (and illegal) with the head. He knows he must keep it secret and protect her. He watches over her until the moment he realizes she has the human look of a domesticated animal.
Character Summary
By his own account, Marcos Tejo is a man haunted by the death of his son and burdened by a gaping hole in his chest. He’s married to a broken woman. He slaughters humans to support his ailing father, who’s locked in a nursing home and no longer recognizes him.
His wife, Cecilia, once a nurse at that same facility, met Marcos there. She, too, lost their son and hasn’t returned to the real world since. She left their shared home and now lives with her mother.
Señor Krieg is Marcos’ boss. He avoids the day-to-day operations of the plant, which is why Marcos runs things, but he understands the role he plays in this industry.
Marcos’ younger sister, Marisa, lives in the city and never visits him or their father. She’s married with twin children — a boy and a girl.
My Thoughts
I read this on the recommendation of my therapist — Hi Lindsey, if you’re reading this 😊. Yes, the irony in that sentence is not lost on me. I mentioned to her, how I’d been enjoying horror books, and she suggested Tender is the Flesh. I figured, sure, why not? Libby had it, so I read it.
It’s a super quick read. I finished it in about five hours and still had time to run errands (or wash my hair, which I’m still procrastinating on). The book was originally published in Spanish and translated to English, so there are some language quirks — but overall, the writing is clear and tight. There’s not a lot of dialogue, but what’s there is effective.
Now, I’m sure if there is some deep dystopian message behind this book. If there is, it went straight over my head. Don’t get me wrong — I thoroughly enjoyed it. I just might’ve missed some of the allegory.
There’s an obvious undercurrent of government mistrust. It’s implied that the virus was fabricated to reduce overpopulation and poverty. Some believe that the government has lied about the animals being tainted, and no cure or vaccine has been found. Which… I hope the world never comes to that, but I wouldn’t put anything past the government — especially not deception or mass murder. Hell, that’s how the Brits colonized half the globe. It’s a tale as old as time.
The character development is chef’s kiss. You spend so much time in Marcos’ head that you can’t help but feel for him. You want things to work out. You root for him. I was rooting for him. We were all rooting for you! (Word to Tyra Banks.)
Final Verdict
If gore, blood, and depravity are your kind of vibe — and the idea of cannibalism doesn’t make you queasy — read it. Seriously. But if any of that gives you pause, steer clear.
You’ve been warned.









Leave a reply to whitneydaniell Cancel reply