This is an attempt to delineate a picture of Israeli literature in the present moment. Like any picture, this one too reflects above all the fleetingness of when it is taken, and the conditions, possibilities, and constraints that shape our observation in the moment. The picture is inevitably partial and limited; we intend to refine and enrich it in time.

A cursory glance at the collection offered here would suffice to show that alongside established and central writers, without whom Hebrew and Israeli literature cannot be fully understood, we sought to include emerging and peripheral voices. Literature represents a disruptive inversion of any summary statement. Therefore we shall refrain from making sweeping, definitive statements about trends and currents. With due caution, one might say that writers of the current era are increasingly moving away from trying to isolate “Israeliness” as such, or to synthesize a kind of local universal. The canonical representations of Israeliness (predominantly associated with the urban upper-middle-class Ashkenazi-liberal milieu) are giving way to peripheral voices and expressions, reflecting a far wider range phenotypic diversity. 

Amos Oz once related that while writing his monumental novel A Tale of Love and Darkness, he dug in his backyard and accidentally cut an electrical cable. To his surprise, this caused a blackout in the entire area. Contemporary writers dig in their backyards only to discover that nothing happens outside when they cut the cable—their house was never connected to the main power grid. They spend less time and effort dreaming up a main square, turning instead to side alleys, walking up and down dead-end streets, without the comforting belief in architectural master plans securing their steps; often without clear connection to parallel movements or the footsteps of their predecessors.

Under these conditions, the relationship between local contemporary literature and the Hebrew literary tradition, as well as the very existence of a collective cultural fabric, call for reexamination. At the same time, as the ideological center loses its gravitational pull, writers feel freer to adopt more popular, commercial forms of writing (detective fiction, erotic novels).

It is virtually impossible to reach the essence of a writer’s work in two hundred words. Yet within this constraint, we have chosen to minimize thematic and biographical discussion and to highlight instead some of the distinctive aesthetic features of each writer. This choice rests on our shared belief that what constitutes literature is the perpetual struggle over form—an action in language, and whose object is language itself. This is ultimately what distinguishes it from other modes of communication.

Finally, it is inescapable that we live in times of crisis, where everything once held as self-evident is being undermined. Yesterday’s language risks appearing as a museum artifact from a bygone world. Literature continues to grope in this darkness, adapting its language to a space where humanity itself is under constant attack. Our ears are attuned to literature not yet written, to words yet to be found.