Noa מנהheim: “I’m Like a Chess Player, With Several Boards Open at Once”
Where do we catch you? “Our building has no reinforced safe room and no shelter, so we’re spending this round too running to the neighborhood shelter, which is excellent. Most of the time there are equal numbers of people and dogs there, and also a few celebrities whose names I won’t mention.”
How and where do you drink your coffee? “At home, a hot Americano with cold milk. My husband is very particular about coffee, so he makes it, and I get freshly ground coffee made for me every time. When he’s not around, I pace around nervously like a junkie who hasn’t gotten a dose.”
Who would you want to sit down with for a beer? “I suspect it would be tea, with Nurit Zarchi. She is one of my favorite writers and women, and I know she’ll always blow my mind. Once I sat with her and she wrote a brilliant book idea on a napkin that we thought we’d work on, and then I went to the bathroom. When I came back I discovered she had spilled coffee, wiped it up with the napkin, and the brilliant idea was lost forever. I asked whether she remembered what she had written, and she didn’t, and said, ‘Forget it. Another idea will come, everything will be fine.’”
Noa מנהheim, 51, lives in Tel Aviv, married, one child. She is head of Hebrew literature at Kinneret Zmora Dvir Publishing. She wrote the books “HaReshet HaSifrutit” and “HaReshet HaTarbutit.” Together with Ayelet Triest, she hosts the podcast “The Grimm Sisters” on Galei Tzahal.
What are you working on now? “I was supposed to be preparing for Book Week, but now we’re all trying to understand what will happen with it in light of the security situation. Last year it closed after two days when Operation With the Strength of a Lion broke out, and then as soon as the ceasefire was declared we returned to complete the remaining days. Book Week is a tough, enduring, loyal brand that doesn’t fold easily. Let’s hope that’s what happens this time too. In parallel I’m editing the books due out in September, including a new one by Noa Yedlin. I’m working on the exhibition ‘The Question of Questions,’ which will open at the end of July at the National Library, linking philosophy, mysticism and science, and the big questions each of those fields asks.”
What is your quirk? “I can’t start working if my house isn’t tidy. I put my OCD into making sure the space I work in is very organized.”
What is the best advice you ever received? “When I came to my first meeting at the publishing house with then editor Dov Alfon, I was a literary critic and I was convinced he had invited me to scold me over bad reviews. So I launched into an angry monologue, ending with saying that if they wanted good reviews, they should publish better books. He stayed silent, let me embarrass myself, and said, ‘If you think we can do a better job, why don’t you join us and help us.’ I called my father, who asked a lot of technical questions, such as whether I would get a business card and whether this was a job I thought I would be proud of. I said yes, and he said, ‘Then you should take it.’ To this day I work in a job I am very proud of, and I have a drawer full of business cards I never used.”
How do you like to spend Friday afternoon? “At work. I need to work on several projects at once. If I were a chess player, I’d have several boards open simultaneously all the time. I work in a not very healthy, boundaryless way, also on weekends, at night, and quite often on vacations.”
Under what circumstances do you lie? “When I tell my son everything will be fine. He is 13 and a half.”
Who do you miss? “My grandparents, my mother’s parents. My grandmother lived to the very respectable age of 102. They were Holocaust survivors and warm, loving, wonderful people. There was enormous love between them. My grandfather would look at her when she was cooking at age 80, lean over and whisper to me, ‘Look what a beautiful woman your grandmother is.’ To me, that is the absolute embodiment of the ideal of a good, long-lasting relationship. I spent a lot of time with them and I miss them very much. I grew up in the Jewish Quarter in Jerusalem’s Old City, a strange place to grow up, and they lived in Tel Aviv.”
Where would you most want to live? “In my home. I love it and I love Tel Aviv, even though I don’t exactly delight in what the city has to offer. But I love knowing that at a moment’s notice I can go out for a drink, or to dance, or to hear content. I grew up in a very closed, small place, a kind of enclave like a kibbutz, but built of stone, very disconnected and non-urban. So the urban atmosphere and living in a city is something that is very pleasant for me. I like creating an island of orderly, detached calm בתוך the chaotic place. And if not Tel Aviv, then London, which is my favorite city in the world.”
What do you like spending money on? “On cosmetics and Korean skin care products, snail slime, salmon sperm, anything that can be smeared on the face, that’s the thing.”
What would you like to change about yourself? “At my advanced age I have learned to accept myself to a relatively satisfactory extent. I would be happy to manage to wear color. For several years now I seem to have developed an allergy to colors, and I wear only black or gray, sometimes with flashes of white. I used to dress colorfully and today I can’t manage it.”
What do you feel guilty about? “To a large extent I am a machine driven by guilt, but I think there are certain things I wrote when I was a critic. Not because I don’t stand by them, but because today, being on the other side, as someone who accompanies writers and knows how much work, heart and sometimes pain and passion are invested in this process, I know there were writers I caused pain. Fortunately, with those I got to work with, we were able to mend fences.”
What do you consider your greatest achievement? “I can’t take credit for the child because he has been a very independent creature since birth. He is a tremendous achievement of his own. I think the books I have edited throughout my career, and the writers I have accompanied from the very first into a fruitful and successful career. It’s a bit like with the child, they are their own achievement, but I am proud that I had the privilege of accompanying them along this path. I edit Noa Yedlin, Shehra Blau, Liad Shmuel, Ron Leshem, Ilana Bernstyn and many other good ones.”
What scares you? “The world scares me a lot, and the direction it is heading. Personally, I’m afraid of losing my cognitive abilities, any illness or condition that threatens cognition, losing the ability to do what I do.”
What makes you happy? “Working makes me happy. I’m happy when I immerse myself in a book, whether I’m reading or editing. Being on vacation with my family, I fight for those moments and cherish them when they come.”
What do you miss most in life? “Space for more books. I’ve already been vetoed and I’m not allowed to bring books home. There’s no room.”
Which artist has influenced your work the most? “Nurit Zarchi. I grew up on her, and the fact that I got to work with her as an adult is a miracle and magic. Ursula K. Le Guin is one of my favorite writers. I love science fiction and fantasy in both literature and film, so creators in those genres, J.R.R. Tolkien in literature and James Cameron in film.”
If you weren’t a literary editor, what would you do? “A teacher. I love teaching very much.”
