Bilha Ben Eliyahu Hosts Author Haim Beer at the Kerem Institute

The hall is filled to capacity with culture enthusiasts and books buffs – students, lecturers and guests. The evening opens with Yehuda Amichai's poem "Why Jerusalem", set to music and beautifully performed by Noa Ben Saadia, a Kerem student. A moving opening to a fascinating evening. Later on in the evening, Noa will perform another of her compositions, also set to an Amichai poem.

Beer opens with a description of his meeting with the parents and family of Inbar Galili Schechter, Director of Kerem, which he sums up by saying that he feels at home in Kerem as he does, in general, in Jerusalem. Bilha mentions how reading the book evokes a sense of Jerusalem – and the conversation begins, much of it revolving about the writing process and Beer's particular manner of crafting his stories. Beer explains what he enjoys in the writing process: "I try to use muscles I've not used before, I don't think of the reader during my writing but about myself only." Referring to the process of writing his most recent book, "Their New Dreams", Beer says "I know Jerusalem, and it's easy for me to write about it. I was wondering whether I could also decipher Haifa's genome and its secrets. I set myself challenges and see if I can solve them. I personally have a very hard time with Haifa, it's where my father passed away." Bilha points out that the theme of paternal absence made its way into the book - through the young protagonist, who is also fatherless. Beer responds by saying that the writing process is like making a cholent; when you close the pot with its lid and put it into the oven, you have no way of knowing what goes on inside, and that though the theme may be present in the book, it is not all necessarily intentional.

Bilha continues to ponder the writing process and raises a theoretical question – Should one write in a room with a window or in a windowless room? Revealing her assumption, she adds that Beer probably prefers writing in a windowless room, not in Israel and possibly not even on the planet. Isolated, and attending entirely to his innermost thoughts. Beer recounts that when he walks in the street and hears somebody whistling, he can't whistle alongside him; he never could sing in a choir and it's hard for him to sing when someone next to him is singing. He writes from afar. "Writing isn't the important part, the important part is letting the story characters grow, talking to them, letting them talk to one another and listening to them." Beer closes the window and draws the curtains, lies down on the bed, and listens to the characters who speak "like all people. Most of the time they talk nonsense, but from time to time one of them says something intelligent, and I write it down. It often happens on Shabbat, which is a tragedy, because I don't write on Shabbat. I can't be in the world and write. I need to be far away. I write only once I'm deeply acquainted with the characters, when I know what they say and what they do. I write very quickly, two to three pages a day, and I don't edit. I send it all off to a cloud, I have a special e-mail address to which I send the book each night, and I print it out and begin editing only once it's done. Writing is an intimate thing, and the only story I can really tell is my own."

The conversation on the writing method and on the lengthy process that every story undergoes rolls on; Beer shares the fact that his family members all take part in polishing the rough story into a finished book. His wife, the first to read each manuscript, offers advice concerning the characters and the plot, pointing out what she thinks might be exaggerated, what might be lacking and what seems credible or not. His sons are also partners, and each one contributes in his domain; they also read and comment. One of them gives advice in the sciences, the other in the field of transportation, so that the book is processed by the entire family.

Towards the end, Bilha asks Beer about the art of teaching and its place in his general activities. "Look", says Beer. "That's the entire business. The teacher shows something and says, look. He points it out, and the moment he does, students suddenly see things differently. Things get a different meaning. Each one of us takes up a different point and sheds light on it." So this is the art of teaching, according to Beer: pointing out new things to students, providing them with new meanings. Would that we could all be teachers who know how to illustrate our points and who have the privilege of providing things with new meaning for our students...

During the entire evening, Beer seasoned his conversation with stories about Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, other authors and great statesmen. And we shared the pleasure and privilege of hearing a fascinating conversation on writing and literature, on reading and on how it all fits into our lives.

Audited and written by: Carmel Nigan-Avrahami