Inside every one of us is a narrator who loves to tell stories. For some, the pleasure of storytelling exceeds the pleasure of listening. Equally, each of us has at least one novel ready to write, a personal novel if one is not willing to plagiarize the stories of others, and so record one’s belonging to the world of the novel, a world that imposes its own rules, which are techniques, be they rigid or flexible, compliance with which cannot be avoided. The novelistic tradition cannot be ignored. The novel demands an intensification of that which real time truncates and the dissipation of distances of thousands of miles, and is not confined by accuracy in shifting between times and places, since movement from one place to another does not require a means of transport, ancient or modern. The novel has its own means to cross oceans in a few words.