<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?><article xmlns:mml="http://www.w3.org/1998/Math/MathML" xmlns:xlink="http://www.w3.org/1999/xlink" xmlns:xsi="http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema-instance">
<front>
<journal-meta>
<journal-id>1794-5887</journal-id>
<journal-title><![CDATA[Co-herencia]]></journal-title>
<abbrev-journal-title><![CDATA[Co-herencia]]></abbrev-journal-title>
<issn>1794-5887</issn>
<publisher>
<publisher-name><![CDATA[Departamento de Humanidades de la Universidad EAFIT]]></publisher-name>
</publisher>
</journal-meta>
<article-meta>
<article-id>S1794-58872015000100001</article-id>
<article-id pub-id-type="doi">10.17230/co-herencia.12.22.1</article-id>
<title-group>
<article-title xml:lang="en"><![CDATA[New Approaches to the novel: From Terra Nostrato twitter literature]]></article-title>
<article-title xml:lang="es"><![CDATA[Nuevos enfoques a la novela: de Terra Nostra a la twitter-literatura]]></article-title>
</title-group>
<contrib-group>
<contrib contrib-type="author">
<name>
<surname><![CDATA[Williams]]></surname>
<given-names><![CDATA[Raymond L]]></given-names>
</name>
<xref ref-type="aff" rid="A01"/>
</contrib>
</contrib-group>
<aff id="A01">
<institution><![CDATA[,University of California  ]]></institution>
<addr-line><![CDATA[Riverside ]]></addr-line>
<country>United States</country>
</aff>
<pub-date pub-type="pub">
<day>00</day>
<month>06</month>
<year>2015</year>
</pub-date>
<pub-date pub-type="epub">
<day>00</day>
<month>06</month>
<year>2015</year>
</pub-date>
<volume>12</volume>
<numero>22</numero>
<fpage>13</fpage>
<lpage>23</lpage>
<copyright-statement/>
<copyright-year/>
<self-uri xlink:href="http://www.scielo.org.co/scielo.php?script=sci_arttext&amp;pid=S1794-58872015000100001&amp;lng=en&amp;nrm=iso"></self-uri><self-uri xlink:href="http://www.scielo.org.co/scielo.php?script=sci_abstract&amp;pid=S1794-58872015000100001&amp;lng=en&amp;nrm=iso"></self-uri><self-uri xlink:href="http://www.scielo.org.co/scielo.php?script=sci_pdf&amp;pid=S1794-58872015000100001&amp;lng=en&amp;nrm=iso"></self-uri><abstract abstract-type="short" xml:lang="en"><p><![CDATA[This article addresses new approaches to the novel in the twenty-first century. It begins with an affirmation that even the most avant-garde of contemporary critics in the late twentieth and early twenty-first century share a commonality: a background in what was identified as "close reading" in the Anglo-American academic world and analyse de texte in French. After numerous declarations in recent decades about the death of the novel, the death of the author and the death of literary criticism, it is evident that the novel as a genre has survived, authors remain a subject of study, and new approaches are possible. The study of trauma in fiction (as introduced by Cathy Caruth and David Aberbach), as well as eco-criticism, are promising new points of departure. The required close reading implied by Twitter also opens up new possibilities.]]></p></abstract>
<abstract abstract-type="short" xml:lang="es"><p><![CDATA[Este artículo aborda nuevos enfoques al género de la novela en el siglo XXI. Al inicio sustenta que incluso los críticos contemporáneos más vanguardistas de finales del siglo XX e inicios del XXI, comparten una característica fundamental: un referente en lo que se identificó como "close reading" en el mundo académico angloamericano y "analyse de texte" en francés. Después de numerosas declaraciones en las últimas décadas sobre la muerte de la novela, del autor y de la crítica literaria, resulta evidente que la novela como género ha sobrevivido, los autores siguen siendo tema de estudio y nuevos enfoques son posibles. El estudio del trauma en la ficción (como lo introdujeron Cathy Caruth y David Aberbach), así como la eco-crítica, prometen nuevos puntos de partida. La necesaria "close Reading" requerida por Twitter también abre nuevas posibilidades.]]></p></abstract>
<kwd-group>
<kwd lng="en"><![CDATA[Close reading]]></kwd>
<kwd lng="en"><![CDATA[eco-criticism]]></kwd>
<kwd lng="en"><![CDATA[trauma]]></kwd>
<kwd lng="en"><![CDATA[twitter]]></kwd>
<kwd lng="es"><![CDATA["Close reading"]]></kwd>
<kwd lng="es"><![CDATA[eco-crítica]]></kwd>
<kwd lng="es"><![CDATA[trauma]]></kwd>
<kwd lng="es"><![CDATA[twitter]]></kwd>
</kwd-group>
</article-meta>
</front><body><![CDATA[  <FONT size="2" face="Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">      <p align="right"><b>ART&Iacute;CULO ORIGINAL</b></p>     <p align="right">&nbsp;</p>     <p align="right">DOI: <a href="http://dx.doi.org/10.17230/co-herencia.12.22.1" target="_blank">10.17230/co-herencia.12.22.1</a></p>     <p align="right">&nbsp;</p> <font size="4">     <p align="center"><b>New Approaches to the novel: From <i>Terra Nostra</i>to twitter literature</b><sup><a href="#0">*</a><a name="b0"></a></sup></p>     <p align="center">&nbsp;</p> </font>     <p align="center"><b><font size="3">Nuevos  enfoques a la novela: de Terra Nostra  a la twitter-literatura</font></b> </p>     <p>&nbsp;</p>     <p>&nbsp;</p>     ]]></body>
<body><![CDATA[<p><b>Raymond L. Williams**</b></p>     <p>** Ph.D. Spanish, University of Kansas. Professor, University of California, Riverside (United States). <a href="mailto:raymond.williams@ucr.edu">raymond.williams@ucr.edu</a> </p>     <p>&nbsp;</p>     <p>Recibido: 18 de abril de 2015 | Aprobado: 29 de mayo de 2015 </p>     <p>&nbsp;</p> <hr size="1" />     <p><b>Abstract</b> </p>     <p>This  article addresses new  approaches to the novel in the  twenty-first century. It begins with an affirmation that even the most avant-garde of contemporary  critics in the late twentieth and early twenty-first century share a commonality: a background in what was identified as "close reading"  in the Anglo-American academic world and analyse de texte in French. After  numerous declarations in recent decades about  the death of the novel,  the death of the author and the death of literary  criticism, it is evident that the novel as a genre  has survived, authors  remain a subject  of study, and new approaches are possible. The study of trauma in fiction (as introduced by Cathy Caruth  and David Aberbach), as well as eco-criticism, are promising new  points of departure. The required close reading implied  by Twitter also opens up new possibilities. </p>     <p><b>Key words</b> Close reading,  eco-criticism, trauma, twitter. </p> <hr size="1" />     <p>&nbsp;</p>     <p><b>Resumen</b> </p>     ]]></body>
<body><![CDATA[<p>Este art&iacute;culo aborda nuevos enfoques al g&eacute;nero de la novela en el siglo  XXI. Al inicio  sustenta  que incluso los cr&iacute;ticos contempor&aacute;neos m&aacute;s vanguardistas de finales del  siglo XX e inicios del  XXI, comparten una caracter&iacute;stica fundamental: un referente en lo que se identific&oacute; como "close reading"  en el mundo acad&eacute;mico angloamericano y "analyse de texte" en franc&eacute;s. Despu&eacute;s  de numerosas declaraciones en las &uacute;ltimas  d&eacute;cadas sobre la muerte de la novela,  del autor y de la cr&iacute;tica  literaria, resulta evidente  que la novela como g&eacute;nero ha sobrevivido, los autores siguen siendo tema de estudio y nuevos enfoques  son posibles. El estudio del trauma en la ficci&oacute;n (como lo introdujeron Cathy Caruth y David Aberbach),  as&iacute; como la eco-cr&iacute;tica, prometen nuevos puntos  de partida. La  necesaria "close Reading" requerida por Twitter tambi&eacute;n  abre nuevas posibilidades. </p>     <p><b>Palabras clave</b> "Close reading", eco-cr&iacute;tica, trauma,  twitter. </p> <hr size="1" />     <p>&nbsp;</p>     <p>&nbsp;</p>     <p>This paper is a consideration of one of the most  basic questions of readers and scholars of the novel  in Latin America:  in the second decade  of the twenty-first century, what could  be considered the newest approach or approaches to the novel?  (1). There is a basic book, a kind of literature manual,  that many of U.S.-based academics have used  over the years  that addresses this  issue for beginning students  of literature: <i>Aproximaciones al estudio de  la literatura hisp&aacute;</i><i>nica</i>. As much as we academics tend to trivialize introductory books such as this,  I would like  to suggest from  the beginning that  simplicity has its virtues and I will return to these <i>Aproximaciones </i>later. </p>    <p> For me personally, this  matter of new  approaches began in the first literature classes  that I took at the Universidad de Concepci&oacute;n as an undergraduate, where I heard  about the Eastern  European scholar  Georg Luk&aacute;cs (from  young scholars such as Jaime  Concha). Luk&aacute;cs (and Concha)  proposed theories of the novel  as bourgeois pieces of art. In most of those classes,  however, I remember that, one way or another, in real practice  of exactly how we read novels and  short stories was  vague. Thus, somehow  or another we discussed novels,  but never did we clarify  exactly how we were to analyze or approach the novel. Fortunately, the Spanish language and some Chilean editors  used to use a wonderful Spanish verb to reveal how to approach  a novel: <i>asediar</i>. In the late 1960s,  the Chilean publishing house  Editorial Universitaria published a series called <i>Asedios</i>, as in the  volume of <i>Asedios a Vargas Llosa </i>and <i>Asedios a Garc&iacute;a M&aacute;rquez</i>, which allowed  for a variety of approaches for the approximately twelve to fifteen contributors to such volumes. The studies  appearing in these volumes were mostly thematic  in nature. </p>    <p> <i>Asediar </i>is a very special  verb which does not really  refer exactly to either "approaching" or to "<i>aproximar</i>", although it is related  to both.  Consequently, those <i>Asedios a Garc&iacute;a M&aacute;rquez </i>were very different ways &#8211;new and different <i>approaches</i>&#8211; as well as <i>aproximaciones</i>in the  sense that they  did not pretend  to be definitive, but there  was something more pro-active and  even aggressive about  their attack on Vargas Llosa's  texts, as in "Los romanos  asediaron la ciudad  hasta conquistarla", the latter the sample sentence that my Google  search produced  when I attempted to find the English  equivalent of <i>Asedios</i>. It produced this sentence and  the verb in English "to  besiege"; we now have the Romans  "besieging" a city and the fifteen Vargas Llosa critics  "besieging" <i>La casa verde </i>and <i>Conversaci&oacute;n en La Cate</i><i>dral. </i>This translation is close, but  not exactly correct, however, for <i>Asedios a  Vargas Llosa </i>is functional in Spanish, whereas <i>Besieging</i><i>Vargas Llosa </i>would sound a little too aggressive and even militaristic in English. </p>    <p> With these initial comments  on <i>aproximaciones</i>, "asedios" and "approaches", we can return  to this manual  we use in lower-level literature courses, <i>Aproximaciones al estudio de la literatura hisp&aacute;nica</i>, in order to make one basic  point before discussing novels such as <i>Terra </i><i>Nostra</i>, twitterliterature, and what happened  in-between those two. The basic questions of the "old approaches", let's say, of the <i>Aproximaciones</i>, as opposed  to the new approaches of today, they share one important commonality, some type of close reading. </p>    <p> The term "close reading", which has its origins in what was the old "New Criticism" and the old French "analyse  de texte", both permanently  marked post-WWII readers educated in the 1950s, 1960s and, to a large  degree even the 1970s of the now old theory revolution.</p>    <p> Our official historical  memory today places the different waves of French  theory in the 1960s and 1970s, but in the actual experience  of our learning new approaches to the novel,  Roland Barthes actually arrived in English translation from across the Atlantic in the early 1980s  and in the late 1970s.</p>    ]]></body>
<body><![CDATA[<p> Those paradigm  shifting books written  by Latin Americanists, such as Doris Sommers' book on nation  building, Roberto Gonz&aacute;lez Echevarr&iacute;a's book  on the novel  as Archive, and  Walter Mignolo's ground-breaking  work in Latin  American cultural studies,  were all products of scholars educated  in the 1960s/1970s in the practice of close reading, and both Gonz&aacute;lez Echevarr&iacute;a and Mignolo lived  a period in their  lives of close  proximity to analyse  de texte in France.</p>    <p> For the  reading of the  novel, that enormously influential book by Roland Barthes  of the 1970's, <i>S/Z </i>was, among other  things, an extreme version of analyse de texte and  close reading. It was a book of analysis consisting of more pages  that the story  studied, "Sarrasine". The same could  be said of Paul de Man's post-structuralist Deconstruction, that was, among other  things, a rigorous  practice of analyse de texte or "close reading." </p> For those of us interested approaches to the novel,  the two constants have been some type of close reading,  analyze de text and an interest in new approaches to the novel,  why do I belabor this initial point  on "close reading"? I do so because, with its association with the  old New Criticism, its seem to me that  "close reading" has fallen into and unfortunate ill-repute as a kind of formalism that was really  just a 1950s orthodoxy called  New Criticism and this, in turn, was only  one type of close reading, and a very  narrow one.     <p>   That is, close reading  is only one  aspect of New  Criticism, and it has far outlived New Criticism. </p>    <p>   My newly  published book (<i>Mario Vargas Llosa: A Life in Writing</i>, 2014) implies  that, in the second decade  of the twenty-first century, it is still  possible to offer  close readings and new approaches to the novel, as do all scholars, implicitly, when they write  books on novels. Nevertheless, for well over a century,  there has been a constant counter discourse to the very  idea of any  new approaches to the novel, a discourse that repeats itself,  year after year,  that the novel  is <i>dead</i>. In 1914,  for example, Mexican  writer Federico Gamboa  declared the death of the novel,  and that was only a minor note compared to the numerous  other declarations of the death  of the novels as a genre, the death of the author  (Roland Barthes' 1950s  essay), the death of the  1960s Boom, and,  finally, the death  of specific writers, such as Vargas Llosa.  Of course, the death of the novel  would carry with it the death of "new approaches" to the genre. </p> A parallel narrative to the death  of the novel  discourse is the narrative relating specifically to the death  of the long novel, or the epic novel, or the novel  or in Latin America that  was called "<i>La novela total</i>", the total  novel. In the  case of Vargas  Llosa, this would be the death  of novels such  as his two-volume <i>Conversaci&oacute;n en La Catedral</i>. This 500-page novel  was seemingly the  high-point of the Boom and the  total novel in Latin America  when it appeared in 1969. At the time,  there was seemingly no known approach  to such a seemingly monster of a novel. To a large  degree, the <i>viejos cr&iacute;ticos </i>&#8211;the cultural journalists of the time&#8211;  tended to either  ignore or denounce such novels, as they had done for many major  modern novels, and  as they did  with <i>Pedro P&aacute;ramo </i>in the late 1950&acute;s.  In that year of <i>Conversaci&oacute;n en La Catedral </i>and the high-point of the Boom, the Mexican writer Carlos  Fuentes offered us what was  at the time the first new approaches to the new totalizing novel  of the 1960s Boom. This new approach came in form of a much-overlooked book titled <i>La nueva novela  hispanoamericana </i>(1969) in which Fuentes  recommended a new critical language  for the reading of what was then the new novel  in Latin America  &#8211;and written with awareness of French theory  of the late 1960s.      <p>   With Vargas Llosa's <i>Conversaci&oacute;n en La Catedral </i>and Fuentes critical book <i>La nueva  novela hispanoamericana </i>the Boom  also seemingly had reached  their end, and the death  notices about the Boom and those long,  complex and totalizing novels were as abundant as were the accounts  of a new Post-Boom with new criteria  for  both constructing and reading novels.  In synthesis, the Boom was dead,  shorter more entertaining novels were in fashion, and, thus, the reading process  as explained by Fuentes and  C&oacute;rtazar was seemingly irrelevant.</p>    <p>   It seems  that each time  in the twentieth century that the  death knell  of the total  novel sounds, another  of these novels  appears, and this is what happened in 1975 when  Carlos Fuentes published his massive encyclopedia of modern and postmodern motifs and strategies under the title <i>Terra Nostra</i>. Thus, this total narrative survives even though literary  critics and novelists do, in fact,  pass away. After <i>Terra Nostra</i>, of course,  the situation still did not change that much, even  though a variety  of Post-Boom, post-modern, feminist and experimental novelist  of the 1980's and 1990's,  all claimed the death of the Boom,  and the end  of totalizing novels. </p>    <p>   With the rise of the internet and the new  social media in the 1990's and twenty-first century  the most popular  narrative reads more or less like  this: "The new  generation and the  general populace is accustomed to reading <i>short </i>narrative, and long  narrative, such as the novel, is dead". By now, of course, this  is not a new narrative. However, I would say  this recent shift,  this short narrative, suggests that  we simply will  need a new  approach to the  novel, both as readers  and as writers. At the turn  of the century, just as even I was starting  to believe this new narrative, Roberto Bola&ntilde;o came forth with <i>2666 </i>in 2003.  This monumental 900-page novel has nothing  to do with this new social media  narrative and much to do with the writing  of novelists such as Julio  Cort&aacute;zar's <i>Rayuela, </i>and Garc&iacute;a M&aacute;rquez <i>Cien a&ntilde;os de soledad</i>. Like <i>Rayuela</i>, it is an experimental metafiction that makes gestures  to numerous writers, including American novelists such as Thomas  Pynchon and David Foster Wallace. Like Garc&iacute;a M&aacute;rquez,  Bola&ntilde;o re-creates an historical human act of genocide of the proportions of national trauma: the genocide in Ju&aacute;rez. <i>2666</i>, announced, yet  again, both the  survival of the novel  and the death  of the novel:  paraphrasing Adorno, how do you write a novel after  Ju&aacute;rez and <i>2666</i>? These  totalizing, broad-sweeping metafictions such as <i>2666 </i>seem  to invite some  kind of new  approach. </p>    <p> The given, of course,  is the act of close  reading, but after  that basic  fact of close  reading that we have already  established, what is the  new approach that <i>2666 </i>suggests? Like  much fiction of this lengthy and  complex totalizing novels, <i>2666 </i>offer  several levels of reading, but two in particular merit  emphasis in a consideration of new approaches to the novel,  and both are in two relatively new fields of study in the humanities and the social  sciences. The first is the study of trauma, which  was originally identified by psychologists in the nineteenth century, rejected in the early  twentieth century,  and ultimately gained  validity and importance as Vietnam War veterans  showed signs of Post Trauma Stress Disorder.  Since the 1970's, our  understanding of trauma  as human experience, as suffered  primarily from the violence of war and sexual violence,  has grown significantly, and the work of literary  and cultural studies scholars such as Cathy  Caruth and David  Aberbach has changed our ways of approaching the literature of physical and sexual violence in Latin  America and Spain,  literatures with a long story,  of course,  of telling stories  about such violence.  This is the story of Latin American  literature from <i>Terra Nostra </i>to <i>2666</i>, and much Hispanic Literature of the Iberian  Peninsula from E<i>l Cantar del M&iacute;o</i><i>Cid </i>to <i>2666</i>, and particularly Part IV of this novel  are about the traumatic sexual violence  and of genocide in Juarez,  Mexico. On another level, <i>2666 </i>invites  an approach concerning the human, natural and urban  ecology of the  text, as understood in the relatively new field  called eco-criticism. </p> An outgrowth of the environmental movement  that was launched in 1962 with  Rachel Carson's book <i>Silent Spring</i>, eco-criticism, like trauma-theory, was developed in the 1970s  and 1980s. In the case of eco-criticism, it was officially launch in 1991 when the first eco-critically oriented session took place  at the annual convention of the MLA. After  that, Lawrence Buell  published his foundational book laying the groundwork for ecocritical literary  and cultural studies under the title <i>The Environmental Imagination </i>(1995), a book that invites us to consider one of the  most radically new  approaches to literature in a century: it invites us to consider not human      <p>beings but nature as the center.  Since 1991 and Buell's landmark book, eco-criticism has blossomed in the discipline of English and has grown  significantly in Hispanic Studies in the  past ten years.  For readers  and scholars primarily interested in urban  Latin American fiction of the  last century (such  as myself), the  nascent interest in eco-criticism has focused  on urban and built environments as a part this eco-criticism that has begun to surpass the sometimes tautological exercise of talking about  the environment in environmental literature set in nature, quit  often focusing on nineteenth-century Romanticism.</p>    <p>   In the final portion  of this consideration of new approaches to the Hispanic novel,  I would like to briefly  suggest some other  possible new  directions perhaps not  quite as developed as trauma theory and ecocriticism. The discussion of race, gender  and class that has dominated so much of literary  and cultural studies  in general, it seems to me, offers  a possible dialogue  for Hispanists practicing in the U.S. that we could and should exploit  more amply as part of not just a specialized academic  dialogue on literature but in the national dialogue on race. For  example, one of the most  important classes that I took as an undergraduate was actually an undergraduate seminar on Afro-American literature from Langston Hughes and James Wright to Eldridge Cleaver's modern classic <i>Soul on Ice</i>. To this day, decades later,  this undergraduate seminar  remains one of the most insightful dialogic experiences I have had concerning race in  America and literature. In a time when the CEO of Starbucks has affirmed that this  coffee company has a role  to play in the national dialogue, I would like to suggest  a more comparative approach for Hispanists, one in which  we play a more central  role in the national dialogue by offering courses  in readings on race in the Americas, from Latin American <i>indigenismo </i>to US Native American  texts, from Manuel Zapata  Olivella and Afro-Caribbean to Langston Hughes and Toni  Morrison.</p> In closing, I would like  to return briefly  to the topic of those long, complex and  totalizing novels as a seeming  response to rise  of the brief narrative on the internet and social media.  The phenomenon of the  brief narrative or micro-narrative, of course, pre-dates the internet by several  decades: in Spanish  we have had the micronarratives of Monterroso since  the 1950s, and writers such as Borges have written stunning examples  of narrative brevity.  In addition to Hemingway's brief, concise and  terse style that  Latin American writers such as Garc&iacute;a M&aacute;rquez  embraced, it was  Hemingway who offered this sixword story: "For  sale. Baby shoes.  Never worn." Robert Frost contributed this: "In three  words I can sum up everything I've learned about  life: "It goes  on." The Swiss  writer Robert Walser (1858-1956) was a 1920s  pioneer of the  micro-narrative&#8211; inventing  his own written script to write his "Micro-scripts" of a few lines each in less than two square inches of textual  space. In Latin America, Borges, that writer  who never wrote  a novel took it upon himself to be simultaneously totalizing and, above  brief. For the writers, the telling of the story  of trauma, or of the experience of race, class  or gender,  or of the story of the environment, has basically two possible approaches either the  long total novel  of extreme abundance &#8211;seemingly an attempt to explore trauma  exhaustively, or, at the extreme opposite, as in the  case of the  Mexican writer Alberto  Chimal explore  the same topics  in the briefest possible form. Chimal has published a book titled <i>83 novela</i>s that consists of 83 tweets.      ]]></body>
<body><![CDATA[<p>   As you have probably already noticed, and  here's my personal narrative again,  I tend to think <i>writers </i>can teach readers and  critics as much about their  task (new approaches) as can theorists and other  critics. Without Fuentes  for example, and his book <i>La nueva novela hispanoamericana</i>, who knows how long  it would have  taken to us to learn to talk about  the novels of the 1960's  Boom? </p>    <p>   So my last question, as we move from <i>Terra Nostra </i>to Twitterliterature, is just what  can we learn  about new approaches to the novel from the Tweeting writers  and the Tweeting  critics? As a recent article in the <i>New  York Times Sunday Book Review (2/17/15) </i>points out, it is hard to find on twitter  any real practice  of criticism, anything that resembles the sort of discourse that takes place  in an essay or a review.  With the Twitter  and the new  social media, never in history  has it been  easier than it is today  to register one's  approval or disapproval of anything, including a novel. But this kind of yesno judgment  is not yet a replacement for criticism. Tweets,  in general, are more about information, and literary essays,  in general, are more about  experience. As Carlos  Fuentes pointed out frequently in his later years,  never before in history have we had so much access to information yet be so lacking in cultural understanding.</p> Despite all these limits,  I do believe Twitter is arguably an important ally as we seek new approaches to the novel.  I personally use Twitter for a variety  of purposes related  to my work on the novel and would like  to remind you  that some of us got  our early Twitter training when  we wrote our first reviews  for the Oklahoma-based journal <i>World Literature Today</i>. Former  Editor Ivar Ivask  would send us via  U.S. mail a sheet of Twitter &#8211;like  instructions requiring us to limit  our reviews to 150 words.  This was distant  from 140 characters, but the same kind of exercise in that it required a different, unusual kind of attention to <i>word use </i>and economy of expression. As a former  reviewer for <i>WLT</i>, as a scholar of the novel,  as a passionate reader  of a few novels, and  as an active user of Twitter, I point out that  Twitter and books  have three important things in common: a love of words, a precision in using words,  and an economy of words. Thus,  I see Twitter as an important ally to several  new approaches to reading  and teaching the novel.     <p>   Where Genette's now old narratology and the new technology meet, by the way, is on Twitter so I soon expect to be hearing  references, of course,  to Twitterology take <i>tuiteorolog&iacute;a </i>to your courses on the Hispanic novel. The term Twitterliterature dates back to 2009. My more recent  Twitterology has progressed as follows: I adapt Genette's old concept of the nuclear  sentence, a one  sentence reduction of the central  action of a novel to one sentence  to one 140-character sentence.  Thus, we began our reading  of Homer's <i>Odyssey </i>to "The protagonist returns to Ithaca".  That was my first Tweet of Twitterology (in March 2015;  @lalitlector). <i>Pedro P&aacute;ramo</i>was the  following Tweet: "The  protagonist searches for  this father in Comala". </p>    <p>   As an Epilogue, on a personal  note, I remember  the first time I read with real interest a book of criticism: it was Mario  Vargas Llosa's lengthy study  of Garc&iacute;a M&aacute;rquez. I recall reading  this critical study intensely, non-stop over a week-end as an undergraduate during my senior year with the same unwillingness to stop reading  as had been the case of <i>Cien a&ntilde;os  de soledad </i>a few months  earlier. What impressed me most about <i>Garc&iacute;a M&aacute;rquez: historia  de un deicidio</i>, besides its impressive thoroughness, was its narrativity, its story line. </p> That is my last post-script on New Approaches to the Novel:  may literary and cultural studies  follow the lead  of those Latin  American storytellers who can make a story  out of a piece of scholarship. That would be the positive outcome  for Twitterology. Why a Twitterology? These Tweets are  a beginning of a reading, as in Genette, the beginning of a reading  to be expanded in essay  or book form.      <p>   The protocols of a Twitterology can indeed support  the point of departure of literary and cultural studies.  There are some characteristics of an eco-Twitterology &#8211; -a few  principles: </p> <ol>   <ol>         <li>The principle of the economy  of words. </li>         <li>An environmentally conscious uses of paper for writing, using as a model  journals in the  natural sciences that  offer a brief synopsis of an academic article printed on real paper, with a link to the lengthy, detailed analysis on the journal's website.</li>         <li>An environmentally conscious accounting of the carbon footprint for  academic conferences and  meetings. </li>         <li>An embracing of narrative as central to this eco-critically new approach to the  novel, partially as recognition of the fact that novels are indeed narrative and producing both short and long narratives with a self-conscious use of the economy of words that is environmentally sound, i. e. using the  printed word on paper minimally. </li>         <li>An embracing of the activity of the close  reading from the old New Criticism. And as Cort&aacute;zar  proposed with his active reader,  the active close  reader and asedios  are worthwhile corollaries to this point. </li>         ]]></body>
<body><![CDATA[<li>Inserting the novel of Latin America  and Spain into the national dialogue on race. </li>       </ol>     </ol>     <p>From <i>Terra Nostra </i>to Twitterliterature, from 1950 to 2015,  this is my story, my narrative of new approaches.</p> <hr size="" />     <p> <a name="0"></a><a href="#b0">*</a> This paper was initially prepared upon invitation as the Keynote Opening  Lecture of the Second Annual Symposium  in Hispanic Studies, the University of Tennessee,  March 26-28, 2015. I  am &nbsp;indebted to Alberto  Chimal for the references to Robert Walser and Twitterliture, as well as three research assistants who made the writing of this paper possible: Andrea PernethMont&aacute;&ntilde;ez de Williams, Stefanie  M&aacute;rquez and Audrey Kanacki. </p>     <p>&nbsp;</p> <hr size="1" />     <p>&nbsp;</p>     <p><b><font size="3">Bibliography </font></b></p>     <!-- ref --><p>Aberbach, David (1989). <i>Surviving  Trauma: Loss, Literature and Psychoa</i><i>nalysis</i>. New Haven: Yale University Press.    &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[&#160;<a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript: window.open('/scielo.php?script=sci_nlinks&ref=000061&pid=S1794-5887201500010000100001&lng=','','width=640,height=500,resizable=yes,scrollbars=1,menubar=yes,');">Links</a>&#160;]<!-- end-ref --> </p>     ]]></body>
<body><![CDATA[<!-- ref --><p>   Barthes, Roland (1970). <i>S/Z. </i>Paris: Editions du Seuil.    &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[&#160;<a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript: window.open('/scielo.php?script=sci_nlinks&ref=000063&pid=S1794-5887201500010000100002&lng=','','width=640,height=500,resizable=yes,scrollbars=1,menubar=yes,');">Links</a>&#160;]<!-- end-ref --> </p>    <!-- ref --><p>   Bennet, Jane  (2010). <i>Vibrant Matter:  A Political Ecology  of Things. </i>Durham: Duke University Press.    &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[&#160;<a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript: window.open('/scielo.php?script=sci_nlinks&ref=000065&pid=S1794-5887201500010000100003&lng=','','width=640,height=500,resizable=yes,scrollbars=1,menubar=yes,');">Links</a>&#160;]<!-- end-ref --> </p>       <!-- ref --><p>   Buell, Lawrence  (1995). <i>The Environmental Imagination: Thoreau, Nature</i><i> Writing and the Formation  of American Culture</i>. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press.    &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[&#160;<a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript: window.open('/scielo.php?script=sci_nlinks&ref=000067&pid=S1794-5887201500010000100004&lng=','','width=640,height=500,resizable=yes,scrollbars=1,menubar=yes,');">Links</a>&#160;]<!-- end-ref --> </p>       <!-- ref --><p>   Caruth, Cathy (Ed.) (1995). <i>Trauma: Explorations in Memory</i>. Baltimore: John's Hopkins  University Press.    &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[&#160;<a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript: window.open('/scielo.php?script=sci_nlinks&ref=000069&pid=S1794-5887201500010000100005&lng=','','width=640,height=500,resizable=yes,scrollbars=1,menubar=yes,');">Links</a>&#160;]<!-- end-ref --> </p>       <!-- ref --><p>   Caruth, Cathy  (1996). <i>Unclaimed Experience: Trauma,  Narrative and His</i><i>tory</i>. Baltimore: John's Hopkins University Press.    &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[&#160;<a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript: window.open('/scielo.php?script=sci_nlinks&ref=000071&pid=S1794-5887201500010000100006&lng=','','width=640,height=500,resizable=yes,scrollbars=1,menubar=yes,');">Links</a>&#160;]<!-- end-ref --> </p>       ]]></body>
<body><![CDATA[<!-- ref --><p>   Chimal, Alberto  (2010). <i>83 novelas</i>. M&eacute;xico.  Disponible en: <a href="http://www.lashistorias.com.mx/descarga/83_novelas.pdf" target="_blank">http://www.lashistorias.com.mx/descarga/83_novelas.pdf</a> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[&#160;<a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript: window.open('/scielo.php?script=sci_nlinks&ref=000073&pid=S1794-5887201500010000100007&lng=','','width=640,height=500,resizable=yes,scrollbars=1,menubar=yes,');">Links</a>&#160;]<!-- end-ref --><!-- ref --><p>   French, Jennifer  L. (2005). <i>Nature, Neocolonialism and the Spanish  American Regional Writers. </i>Lebanon, NH: Darmouth  College Press.    &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[&#160;<a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript: window.open('/scielo.php?script=sci_nlinks&ref=000074&pid=S1794-5887201500010000100008&lng=','','width=640,height=500,resizable=yes,scrollbars=1,menubar=yes,');">Links</a>&#160;]<!-- end-ref --> </p>    <!-- ref --><p>   Fuentes, Carlos (1969). <i>La  nueva novela hispanoamericana</i>. Mexico:  Joaqu&iacute;n Mortiz.    &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[&#160;<a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript: window.open('/scielo.php?script=sci_nlinks&ref=000076&pid=S1794-5887201500010000100009&lng=','','width=640,height=500,resizable=yes,scrollbars=1,menubar=yes,');">Links</a>&#160;]<!-- end-ref --> </p>    <!-- ref --><p>   Genette, G&eacute;rard (1972). <i>Figures III</i>. Paris: Editions  du Seuil.    &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[&#160;<a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript: window.open('/scielo.php?script=sci_nlinks&ref=000078&pid=S1794-5887201500010000100010&lng=','','width=640,height=500,resizable=yes,scrollbars=1,menubar=yes,');">Links</a>&#160;]<!-- end-ref --> </p>       <!-- ref --><p>   Gonz&aacute;lez Echevarr&iacute;a, Roberto  (1990). <i>Myth and Archive: A Theory of Latin</i> <i>American Narrative. </i>Austin: University of Texas Press.    &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[&#160;<a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript: window.open('/scielo.php?script=sci_nlinks&ref=000080&pid=S1794-5887201500010000100011&lng=','','width=640,height=500,resizable=yes,scrollbars=1,menubar=yes,');">Links</a>&#160;]<!-- end-ref --> </p>       <!-- ref --><p>   Vargas Llosa,  Mario (1971). <i>Garc&iacute;a M&aacute;rquez:  historia de un deicidio. </i>Caracas/Barcelona: Monte Avila/Seix Barral.    &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[&#160;<a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript: window.open('/scielo.php?script=sci_nlinks&ref=000082&pid=S1794-5887201500010000100012&lng=','','width=640,height=500,resizable=yes,scrollbars=1,menubar=yes,');">Links</a>&#160;]<!-- end-ref --> </p>    <!-- ref --><p>   Williams,  Raymond L. (2014). <i>Mario Vargas  Llosa: A Life  in Writing</i>. Austin: University of Texas Press.    &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[&#160;<a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript: window.open('/scielo.php?script=sci_nlinks&ref=000084&pid=S1794-5887201500010000100013&lng=','','width=640,height=500,resizable=yes,scrollbars=1,menubar=yes,');">Links</a>&#160;]<!-- end-ref --> </p>    <!-- ref --><p>   Williams, Raymond L. (2010). <i>A Companion to Gabriel Garc&iacute;a  M&aacute;rquez</i>. Suffolk: Tamesis.    &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[&#160;<a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript: window.open('/scielo.php?script=sci_nlinks&ref=000086&pid=S1794-5887201500010000100014&lng=','','width=640,height=500,resizable=yes,scrollbars=1,menubar=yes,');">Links</a>&#160;]<!-- end-ref --> </p>     <p> </p>     <p>&nbsp;</p> </font>     ]]></body><back>
<ref-list>
<ref id="B1">
<nlm-citation citation-type="book">
<person-group person-group-type="author">
<name>
<surname><![CDATA[Aberbach]]></surname>
<given-names><![CDATA[David]]></given-names>
</name>
</person-group>
<source><![CDATA[Surviving Trauma: Loss, Literature and Psychoanalysis]]></source>
<year>1989</year>
<publisher-loc><![CDATA[New Haven ]]></publisher-loc>
<publisher-name><![CDATA[Yale University Press]]></publisher-name>
</nlm-citation>
</ref>
<ref id="B2">
<nlm-citation citation-type="book">
<person-group person-group-type="author">
<name>
<surname><![CDATA[Barthes]]></surname>
<given-names><![CDATA[Roland]]></given-names>
</name>
</person-group>
<source><![CDATA[S/Z]]></source>
<year>1970</year>
<publisher-loc><![CDATA[Paris ]]></publisher-loc>
<publisher-name><![CDATA[Editions du Seuil]]></publisher-name>
</nlm-citation>
</ref>
<ref id="B3">
<nlm-citation citation-type="book">
<person-group person-group-type="author">
<name>
<surname><![CDATA[Bennet]]></surname>
<given-names><![CDATA[Jane]]></given-names>
</name>
</person-group>
<source><![CDATA[Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things]]></source>
<year>2010</year>
<publisher-loc><![CDATA[Durham ]]></publisher-loc>
<publisher-name><![CDATA[Duke University Press]]></publisher-name>
</nlm-citation>
</ref>
<ref id="B4">
<nlm-citation citation-type="book">
<person-group person-group-type="author">
<name>
<surname><![CDATA[Buell]]></surname>
<given-names><![CDATA[Lawrence]]></given-names>
</name>
</person-group>
<source><![CDATA[The Environmental Imagination: Thoreau, Nature Writing and the Formation of American Culture]]></source>
<year>1995</year>
<publisher-loc><![CDATA[Cambridge^eMass Mass]]></publisher-loc>
<publisher-name><![CDATA[Harvard University Press]]></publisher-name>
</nlm-citation>
</ref>
<ref id="B5">
<nlm-citation citation-type="book">
<person-group person-group-type="author">
<name>
<surname><![CDATA[Caruth]]></surname>
<given-names><![CDATA[Cathy]]></given-names>
</name>
</person-group>
<source><![CDATA[Trauma: Explorations in Memory]]></source>
<year>1995</year>
<publisher-loc><![CDATA[Baltimore ]]></publisher-loc>
<publisher-name><![CDATA[John's Hopkins University Press]]></publisher-name>
</nlm-citation>
</ref>
<ref id="B6">
<nlm-citation citation-type="book">
<person-group person-group-type="author">
<name>
<surname><![CDATA[Caruth]]></surname>
<given-names><![CDATA[Cathy]]></given-names>
</name>
</person-group>
<source><![CDATA[Unclaimed Experience: Trauma, Narrative and History]]></source>
<year>1996</year>
<publisher-loc><![CDATA[Baltimore ]]></publisher-loc>
<publisher-name><![CDATA[John's Hopkins University Press]]></publisher-name>
</nlm-citation>
</ref>
<ref id="B7">
<nlm-citation citation-type="book">
<person-group person-group-type="author">
<name>
<surname><![CDATA[Chimal]]></surname>
<given-names><![CDATA[Alberto]]></given-names>
</name>
</person-group>
<source><![CDATA[83 novelas]]></source>
<year>2010</year>
<publisher-name><![CDATA[http://www.lashistorias.com.mx/descarga/83_novelas.pdf]]></publisher-name>
</nlm-citation>
</ref>
<ref id="B8">
<nlm-citation citation-type="book">
<person-group person-group-type="author">
<name>
<surname><![CDATA[French]]></surname>
<given-names><![CDATA[Jennifer L.]]></given-names>
</name>
</person-group>
<source><![CDATA[Nature, Neocolonialism and the Spanish American Regional Writers]]></source>
<year>2005</year>
<publisher-loc><![CDATA[Lebanon, NH ]]></publisher-loc>
<publisher-name><![CDATA[Darmouth College Press]]></publisher-name>
</nlm-citation>
</ref>
<ref id="B9">
<nlm-citation citation-type="book">
<person-group person-group-type="author">
<name>
<surname><![CDATA[Fuentes]]></surname>
<given-names><![CDATA[Carlos]]></given-names>
</name>
</person-group>
<source><![CDATA[La nueva novela hispanoamericana]]></source>
<year>1969</year>
<publisher-loc><![CDATA[Mexico ]]></publisher-loc>
<publisher-name><![CDATA[Joaquín Mortiz]]></publisher-name>
</nlm-citation>
</ref>
<ref id="B10">
<nlm-citation citation-type="book">
<person-group person-group-type="author">
<name>
<surname><![CDATA[Genette]]></surname>
<given-names><![CDATA[Gérard]]></given-names>
</name>
</person-group>
<source><![CDATA[Figures III]]></source>
<year>1972</year>
<publisher-loc><![CDATA[Paris ]]></publisher-loc>
<publisher-name><![CDATA[Editions du Seuil]]></publisher-name>
</nlm-citation>
</ref>
<ref id="B11">
<nlm-citation citation-type="book">
<person-group person-group-type="author">
<name>
<surname><![CDATA[González Echevarría]]></surname>
<given-names><![CDATA[Roberto]]></given-names>
</name>
</person-group>
<source><![CDATA[Myth and Archive: A Theory of Latin American Narrative]]></source>
<year>1990</year>
<publisher-loc><![CDATA[Austin ]]></publisher-loc>
<publisher-name><![CDATA[University of Texas Press]]></publisher-name>
</nlm-citation>
</ref>
<ref id="B12">
<nlm-citation citation-type="book">
<person-group person-group-type="author">
<name>
<surname><![CDATA[Vargas Llosa]]></surname>
<given-names><![CDATA[Mario]]></given-names>
</name>
</person-group>
<source><![CDATA[García Márquez: historia de un deicidio]]></source>
<year>1971</year>
<publisher-loc><![CDATA[Caracas/Barcelona ]]></publisher-loc>
<publisher-name><![CDATA[Monte Avila/Seix Barral]]></publisher-name>
</nlm-citation>
</ref>
<ref id="B13">
<nlm-citation citation-type="book">
<person-group person-group-type="author">
<name>
<surname><![CDATA[Williams]]></surname>
<given-names><![CDATA[Raymond L.]]></given-names>
</name>
</person-group>
<source><![CDATA[Mario Vargas Llosa: A Life in Writing]]></source>
<year>2014</year>
<publisher-loc><![CDATA[Austin ]]></publisher-loc>
<publisher-name><![CDATA[University of Texas Press]]></publisher-name>
</nlm-citation>
</ref>
<ref id="B14">
<nlm-citation citation-type="book">
<person-group person-group-type="author">
<name>
<surname><![CDATA[Williams]]></surname>
<given-names><![CDATA[Raymond L.]]></given-names>
</name>
</person-group>
<source><![CDATA[A Companion to Gabriel García Márquez]]></source>
<year>2010</year>
<publisher-loc><![CDATA[Suffolk ]]></publisher-loc>
<publisher-name><![CDATA[Tamesis]]></publisher-name>
</nlm-citation>
</ref>
</ref-list>
</back>
</article>
