The Argentine crisis of 2001 saw economic collapse, social unrest, and police repression. But if it caused a political and economic fracture with apocalyptic overtones, in literature – and in prose fiction, specifically – it did not mean a complete break with the past nor an eruption of the new, but instead the return or reformulation of the old. Despite everything, the 2000s was a period of productivity and global acclaim for Argentina’s writers. Certain activist uses of literature and its insertion in other areas of social praxis coexisted with a search for a personal voice, namely autofictions, writings of the self, and stories of everyday life. This chapter structures a reading of the literature of the 2000s around three key topics that emerge from this conjuncture: an aesthetic of recycling; an aesthetic of haunting; and the presence of a reinvigorated feminist gaze. After a period of scepticism about the role of literature in social change, these trends sparked a renewal of interest in the activist uses of fiction. At the same time, other writers made abject characters the protagonists of their stories and agitated for a literature that strives to be both autonomous and political at the same time.

Scholars have long understood Manuel Puig’s work as embedded in media history, as he reinvented the novel by adapting techniques from film, radio-novelas, and soap operas. Critics like Alan Pauls linked gossip to the media circuitry of Puig’s first novel, while Josefina Ludmer wrote of how radio-novelas pertain to the “justice of the kitchen knife” in Boquitas Pintadas, and Francine Masiello discussed the relationship between invertido and inversión that Puig plots in entangling sexuality, media, and neoliberal capital. This chapter deepens Puig’s media history with special attention to sound across Puig’s novels, but with a particular focus on El beso de la mujer araña (1976). That novel has been hailed for its cinematic flair, but critics have tended to ignore the importance of listening in the book: from Puig’s own tape-recorded interviews in preparing the manuscript to Molina’s listening as an agent of the state to the shared listening that brings the characters together. Drawing from work on “aurality” by Ana María Ochoa Gautier, Jonathan Sterne, and others, this chapter explains and analyzes how listening became Puig’s queer response to authoritarian power and the media technologies of his day.

Chapter 4 discusses the types of cases that are the most consequential: those challenging the existing system of judicial selection and those concerning proposed or enacted changes to the system. The majority of challenges to systems were brought under the Voting Rights Act, which the US Supreme Court found to cover judicial elections, at least in certain ways. Efforts to challenge judicial elections under the one person, one vote doctrine were not successful because that doctrine applied only to “representatives,” a category not including judges. There were unsuccessful challenges brought on other grounds as well. The cases involving proposed and enacted changes covered a wide range of such changes.

This is a chapter about the desire to escape, to flee, to desert the Argentineity of Argentine literature; about a force bent on undermining or abandoning Spanish, on imagining literary projects placed beyond, underneath, or against the institutionalized understanding of a national tradition based on long-held beliefs in sovereign forms of language, territoriality, and identity. It focuses on a discursive force lurking behind a list of proper names – J.Rodolfo Wilcock, Copi, Sylvia Molloy, Edgardo Cozarinsky, María Negroni – rendered visible by a shared will to displace the boundaries of the Argentine tradition as a cultural site that lends itself to processes of subjectivation and misidentification. The textual moments and stances analyzed inscribe displaced writerly practices (always marked by ambivalences and unresolved tensions) in a designated, reimagined foreign space, at once strange and familiar – be that a specific cultural and linguistic location in the Global North (Rome, Paris, New York) or an indeterminate site marked by indexical signs of elsewhereness.

The Black lesbian feminist writer Audre Lorde published two full-length pieces of life-writing: The Cancer Journals in 1980, and the biomythography Zami: A New Spelling of My Name in 1982. These works, as well as Lorde’s poetry and essays, share the use of embodiment as a source of literary knowledge production. Audre Lorde’s writing locates her embodied experience as a center from which feeling and the narrative accounting for that feeling emanates. Her literary work gestures to a sense of her body as integral for feeling and therefore knowing. The interrelation of feeling and knowing is a key theme within Zami, and reiterates through twentieth and twenty-first century Black queer writing. This chapter provides background on Lorde as a writer, situates Zami alongside Lorde’s other texts, and illustrates some of the narrative moments in Zami which illustrate its use of embodiment in relation to literary knowledge.

This chapter examines key works of contemporary literature to argue that Black American literature has borne witness to how medical advancement has, and continues, to be made over and through Black bodies. Whereas dominant historical narratives erase the (often coerced) contributions of Black people, and Black folks, by and large, have failed to reap the social, financial, and embodied benefits of the technological progress enabled by their abused and sacrificed flesh, Black literature forces us to confront the impoverished ethics of medical practice. Authors such as Kwoya Fagin Maples, Bettina Judd, and Toni Morrison feature characters whose bodies document the long history of racist medical indifference and violence against Black bodies, despite this history’s archival misrepresentation and erasure. These writers craft a counter-history of Black life that refuses to gaslight those whose bodies continue to founder within racist medical systems in the wake of slavery.

The erosion of democracy has shown itself to be a necessary political precondition for the implementation of neoliberalism. Utopian culture quickly attuned itself to this crisis of democracy, and while there certainly are not many works of utopian culture that uncritically embrace the dominant post-1989 narrative that hails democracy as the universal cure for whatever ailment may exist in the world, we begin to see the emergence of works that foreground the profound danger inherent in the waning of democracy precisely in times of its instrumentalization by Western capitalist nations and the forces of economic globalization. Authors reveal neoliberal utopias as antidemocratic dystopias against which democracy must be defended. Moreover, we also see the emergence of novels that address a second pressing question: how can democracy survive when populations decide to democratically abolish it?

This chapter proposes a reading of Argentine-Jewish literature that stresses key moments of production. It begins with a focus on Alberto Gerchunoff´s The Jewish Gauchos as the foundational text (and of modern Jewish literature in Spanish) and the moment of massive immigration. Gerchunoff is read alongside Borges, who is treated as a contrapunctual figure, a canonical writer who engages with transnational Jewish literatures and draws strategies from Jewish reading and writing to devise his own literary models.  The second part examines the impact of the Shoah on Argentine Jewish literature of the 1950s and 1960s focusing on playwright Germán Rozenmacher and in the world of Yiddish and Ladino publishing. Tamara Kamenszain is subsequently described as an author that espouses “reluctant belonging,” someone who has engaged with different subjects and different styles but never ventures very far away from Jewishness. The third part treats the use of the Holocaust metaphorically to discuss state terrorism in the works of Reina Roffé and Sergio Chejfec. It concludes with a reflection on contemporary writing and the variety of literary genres.

“The evil of the Argentine Republic is its extension”: Domingo Faustino Sarmiento´s famous admonition in Facundo (1845) was not only a program for the modernization of Argentina but a figurative horizon for the literary genre that was going to critically analyze that very modernization until the mid-twentieth century: the “national character essay.” This genre had analogous developments in many parts of Latin America, but did not establish the link between territory and national identity as strongly as it did in Argentina. In the century that leads from Sarmiento to Ezequiel Martínez Estrada the genre displays a series of literary resources that seek to take the geographical configuration of the country as a measure of its people’s soul. This can be seen both in the invention of a physical sphere of the nation to set the stage for his political drama (Sarmiento) and in the metaphorization of the map as the nation’s body (Martínez Estrada). This corpus is analyzed here in relation to real and imaginary geographies that produced it and were produced by it.

This chapter looks at how the notions of black escape and black wishland have been conceptualized in African American utopianism since the post-WWII conception of the Beloved Community, a conception mostly associated with Martin Luther King, Jr. and the civil rights movement. Through its discussions of Sun Ra’s “Space is the Place” (1971), Parliament’s “Chocolate City” (1975), Reginald Hudlin’s “Space Traders” (1994), Octavia E. Butler’s “The Book of Martha” (2003), and Chesya Burke’s “The Teachings and Redemption of Ms. Fannie Lou Mason” (2011), this chapter argues that these texts, if read collectively, not only reveal that the debates between black utopians and antiutopians parallel those between the opponents and proponents of Afropessimism, but they also suggest that liberating black life from social death requires combining the best of Afropessimism and black antiutopian critique with the best of black aliveness, Afro-fabulation, and the black utopian imagination.