Addressing trends in Israeli literature amid the ongoing war in Gaza, the Center for Israel Studies hosted the editor-in-chief of the Hebrew Literature Department at Israel’s leading publishing house on Monday.

Lior Libman, director of the Center for Israel Studies and associate professor of Israeli studies, led the conversation with Noa Menheim, a top editor for the Kinneret Zmora-Bitan Dvir publishing house, in the Glenn G. Bartle Library over Zoom. Allan Arkush, a professor of Judaic studies, and Reut Israela Ben-yaakov, a postdoctoral associate in Asian and Middle Eastern studies at Duke University, were also on the video call.

“A lot of students study Israeli Literature in Binghamton every year, and I, who teach them, think it is crucial to view what we are learning about this body of national literature also in relation to what is happening these days on the ground,” Libman wrote to Pipe Dream. “I believed that the lens of a major player in the Israeli book industry adds to this, so I invited [Menheim].”

“My Israeli Literature students that attended the event, gained, as I hoped, an informed and insightful glance into the current complicated moment in and for Israeli Literature, in the face of the war, and in general,” she continued. “Studying with me the historical, poetic and conceptual foundations of the Israeli canon, the contemporary picture presented in Menheim’s talk broadened and deepened the students’ understanding.”

Libman began the discussion by asking Menheim to discuss any notable trends in Israeli literature following the events of Oct. 7. Menheim said literature takes time to create, and as Oct. 7 is still recent, writers have still not had the appropriate time to reflect and “come to terms artistically” with it.

However, Menheim said that the events of Oct. 7 have pushed her to look at published literature in a new light. She referenced “Three Days in Summer,” a historical novel about a hamlet in Lithuania during the last three days of its Jewish community before the Nazi invasion and the “very fraught relationships between the Jewish population and the Lithuanians.”

“The topics that they dealt with became or were read through this lens, and I think gave them another kind of poignancy, and reading them in hindsight of everything that came after they came out,” Menheim said.

She added that there have been instances where authors requested to remove scenes from their published novels, including depictions of sexual abuse or war.

Libman then asked about the role of fiction amid a wave of memoirs and testimonies published after Oct. 7. Menheim said that there is a sense of “lack of center and lack of a cohesive narrative” in fiction and that Israelis do not always feel represented by literature from the last decade.

While memoir and testimony have become more common in recent years, Libman said that fiction authors still struggle to understand their role under these new circumstances, as “they don’t have the words to express the trauma” because it has not ended.

“The pain that we have suffered and that we are inflicting is ongoing,” Menheim said. “Nothing has closed, nothing has been finished. No victory or peace were declared. The wound is still open. And it’s very hard to plaster it with fiction as the inflammation is still so evident in the day-to-day lives.”

Libman continued the conversation by saying her students have learned about the loss of the “great Israeli novel,” along with the metaphorical figure of the “Watchman onto the House of Israel,” a reference to when God commissioned the Prophet Ezekiel to protect and give warning to the house of Israel, according to the Hebrew Bible. Libman told Pipe Dream that the figure, which writers often served as in the past, is “inspired by the position of the Biblical prophet speaking from within the collective and to the collective aspiring to shape, guide and direct it toward a vision, at times also by harsh criticism.”

Libman then asked if Menheim had seen “any protest against the atrocities that are happening in Gaza” or any “moral guidance from Israeli writers in this well-familiar tradition.” Menheim used a Hebrew phrase meaning “they were supposed to be watching and they fell asleep,” saying that her understanding of the collective experience she feels is encompassed in that phrase.

“It’s a feeling of being startled awake by an alarm,” Menheim said. “Being afraid, baffled, angry — angry beyond belief. Traumatized, pained, disgusted, but every man to himself. And there is very little sense now of collectiveness.”

After the main portion of the talk, the floor was opened for audience members to ask questions. One student asked what stories people in Israel are reading if authors are “falling out of favor with the Israeli public.” While people are reading less traditional Israeli literature, Menheim answered, they are more drawn to popular genres like romance and fantasy novels.

Ben-yaakov ended the conversation with a final question about whether the editorial industry was asking individuals to write stories about their experiences. Menheim answered by saying that two years into the war, many are still “experiencing and inflicting pain with no end in sight,” adding that her “faith is stories.”

“I think that stories can save us,” Menheim said. “I think that narratives can help us heal. I think that they carry the power of teaching us what we are, what we might be, who we can be and how we should live.”