After the Azoka of Durango, with the pen in hand and the smile in the mouth we have been able to see the Basque writers distributing signatures in the stands of the editorials. Shortly thereafter, three years will be completed J. "Wow, sir!" Salinger had died. The rivals seem to attract and seem so, as the movement of the fair has brought to my memory an American writer who lived out of media and promotions. J. "Wow, sir!" Salinger was a strict guardian of his private life. They had barely taken photos of him, his voice was not recorded or tried by the journalists, and of course he did not give explanations about the books. He is known above all for the fame of his novel The Catcher in the Rye (1951), which increased his voluntary isolation. Enrique Vila-Matas placed him in Bartleby and company (Anagram, 2000) among the “writers of no”, that is, among those who refused to write forever, because Salinger did not publish anything until his death in 1963. I'd rather believe that he didn't jump into denial. After his death, the house was searched for manuscripts. I would like a book or a lot of them to come up soon and it was known that the only resignation was that made to advertising. “I like writing. I love writing. But to me and to my liking.” Those were the things he said in one of the few conversations he had. To these words I mean hope, accompanied by another idea: narrations speak for themselves, without the need of a writer.

Today, hiding the writer does not help either the promotion of the book or the menu of media vomit, but neither does the creator who wants to present his work in public. The space offered by the Azoka and Ahotsenea is therefore a positive space. In the world of Basque letters, however, it is difficult to play hideout, at least for young writers. Our names are easily disseminated by the media and awakened by the reins of the dog that has run. Two newspapers, three or four magazines and so many other programs interview you immediately after publishing a book, regardless of whether or not you have read the text. However, without becoming Salinger, we love concealment. When they are called to interview, either because they are sick or because they are far from home, and therefore, unable to respond, they wake up in their chest a feeling of triumph, of triumph, as if they had won a bit in a game, even if they are not very clear who the game is going to (the press, the publisher, their heads? ). The revelation of aliases is a possibility of subsistence, provided that the true identity is not declared until his death, and public appearances are made available to the family or to the Urlia. In the midst of Durango's turmoil, I had that ambition. I wanted a Basque writer to hide voluntarily, an ambiguous name that would have no other characteristic than the boy, the girl, the north, the south, the old, or the young. Her food couldn't stick to the walls, nor could she read a biography about her in her strides. Since it was an unknown person, we would judge the folds and the crests of their meats more freely, we would love their prose or we would not love it. And the stands would find a way to attract people and take advantage of the legend without the author being present. By turning the spotlights on, the pages are illuminated and with them the mystery of literature.