One of his most famous stories is titled The fluffy pudding (1977) and says: "I wanted to make a fluffy pudding. I did not want to make cookies because they lack the third dimension. One eats cookies and seems to lack something. " Hebe Uhart, died Thursday at 81 years in Buenos Aires, was a narrator of the tiny, a spy with a fine look that passed through the world as a constant journey, refractory to the fame and narcissism that, as she said, had to his Argentine colleagues to write to impress. When they reminded him that Rodolfo Fogwill proclaimed that she was "the best writer in Argentina", Uhart used to always respond with the same phrase: "What does that mean? Nothing ", and fled to the look of his interlocutor. She was a teacher of writers, loved and respected for all those who considered her almost a personal treasure. Fame reached Uhart in his last years of life, when his stories, novels and travel stories they came to the big publishers.
Uhart was born in Moreno, on the outskirts of Buenos Aires, in 1936, and moved to the capital when he was just over 20 years old to study Philosophy. She was also a rural teacher and, always, a writer. Since I had memory. At age nine, with no friends to play, he would sit down to write between colored pencils. Then it was her sharp gaze, hidden in small dark eyes, that made her a spy of reality. Your travel stories are evidence of that. I was curious and looked for details in small towns, where the mud speaks and people hide their lights and miseries after sentences. "I sit in the town square and look at the shops, the advertising posters," he said in a recent interview. He was referring to the posters of the small stores, those that know very well the clients that he must convince. From there, Uhart created a world.
"His writing is so simple that at times it seems childish, but from simplicity to simplicity one penetrates into honduras and labyrinths where one can only advance if one participates in the magic of that new world, neither clarifies nor completes a known reality. , rather, she herself is a unique, different reality, "wrote Haroldo Conti, author of the prologue of his book. The people of the house pink (1972). It was the "Uhart look". Thus, he toured Patagonia, dozens of small towns in Buenos Aires, Cordoba and many other hidden places. In a talk with the Argentine writer Mariana Enríquez, published in the magazine Amphibious, recalled his passion for animals, an obligatory meeting point with the inhabitants of those rural areas that he explored so much with an anonymous flight. "For a change, I asked him to tell me about the customs of the animals. He told me: the horse is better guardian than the dog, I had one that opened the gate with the muzzle, the horse must know how to pangulate it. You see a horse in front and he's a Christian, "he said.
The death of the writer found Enríquez in the presentation in Buenos Aires of the book Kentukis, the latest novel by his compatriot Samanta Schweblin. "Hebe Uhart was a teacher of writers." In turn, Schweblin said he met her at a table organized by the San Martin cultural center, Uhart spoke last, when the audience was almost asleep listening to the writers talk about their And he slapped them in the face. "I'm going to tell you a dream. I dreamed that I took Maradona, "he said, and began to relate that dream.
Uhart published most of his work in small publishers. Even until not many years ago, his books were obtained in balance tables on Corrientes Street. Admired in the environment, his consecration came towards the end of his life. He received two Konex Awards, one from the El Libro Foundation and another from the National Fund for the Arts, in 2015. When the awards arrived his light caught the attention of Alfaguara, who published his Gathered stories. In recent years she had become a stationary author in the seal catalog Adriana Hidalgo, that in the next months he will gather in three volumes his novels, stories and chronicles. Fame did not take her away from her small apartment in Almagro, a middle class neighborhood where she gave her workshops and used to receive friends. Last year it was awarded in Chile with the Ibero-American Narrative Award Manuel Rojas. When he had to thank the jury, he read a text that was also a declaration of principles. "I think and I always thought that the consciousness of one's own importance conspires against the possibility of writing well, even more, I think that the hypertrophy of the role plays against a writer and any artist. When I see that someone shows off his role, I suspect he does not write well, "he said. He remained faithful to his words until the last day, as an inhabitant of borders.