Raymond Queneau (1903-1976) was a narrator, poet, theatrical author, essayist, songwriter, painter, actor, screenwriter, translator, journalist, mathematician and editor in Gallimard, where he managed to direct his mythical La Pléiade collection. But above all it was, as they say in this type of biography - this time quite rightly - one of the most unique authors of the universal literature of the twentieth century. He entered and left the surrealist group in the twenties, and began his career as an author in 1933 with the publication of Le Chiendent, but did not know the success until the publication in 1942 of My friend Pierrot. Polyglot and passionate about languages, he laid the foundations of the Neo-French, with a syntax and vocabulary typical of oral language and a more or less phonetic spelling. He did not succeed. He wrote the famous Style Exercises (1949) under the influence of The Art of the Fugue by Johann Sebastian Bach. Crazy of science, he joined the Mathematical Society of France in 1948 and decided to apply arithmetic rules to the construction of his works. In the late forties he agreed in the mythical Saint-Germain-des-Prés with an editor who convinced him to publish novels with a pseudonym, which he would do with the three works signed by the wonderful Sally Mara. At that time he was appointed satrap of the College of Pataphysics - a society of scholarly and useless research - and in the early fifties he acceded to the Goncourt Academy that awards the prize of the same name. In 1959 he published the novel that would turn him, to his surprise, into a popular author, Zazie on the subway, masterfully taken to the cinema by Louis Malle. In 1960 he founded with François Le Lionnais a literary research group called the Experimental Literature Seminar, the seed of the famous and influential Oulipo or Workshop of Potential Literature, which would bring together authors and mathematicians who called themselves “rats that build themselves the maze of the which one they propose to leave ». His last great work was Las flores azul, translated into Spanish by our most intimate Sally tradhumor, Manuel Serrat Crespo.