Meir Shalev’s books also always tell state history, his life was so closely intertwined with Israel. The author died at the age of 74 in the days when his country was in crisis.
The most noticeable were the hands. Not big, but strong. He laid them casually over the back of the couch during the conversation, they lifted briefly when he shrugged his shoulders again laughing at an anecdote of his own. They looked like someone who could, of course, write books, but above all was also very good at digging a bed – and they matched Meir Shalev’s overall appearance.