Of Israel’s famous literary troika, which included A. B. Yehoshua and Amos Oz, only David Grossman is still with us; and his latest book, a lean collection of potent, spiritually imaginative reflections, will likely ensure his reputation as Israel’s essential voice of conscience. In a time of numbness and despair, this book is here to remind us of an Israel of empathy, rationalism, and humanity. Grossman’s subjects range from the eviction of Palestinian families in East Jerusalem, to the still-looming threat to democracy posed by the assault on the judiciary and the Supreme Court, to the marginalization of Israel’s Arab citizens and Arabic itself, to the horrific trauma of October 7th, the Gaza war, and the uncertain future that lies ahead. Brilliantly translated by Jessica Cohen, The Thinking Heart (a title inspired by the words of Etty Hillesum, the heroic Jewish Dutch writer who perished in the Holocaust) is composed of opinion pieces, literary award acceptance addresses, speeches delivered at protest demonstrations, and, finally, a poetic coda unifying the book’s salient themes.
Moving from the summer of 2017 to 2024, the book also provides glimpses into Grossman’s literary imagination. One such example is the soaring address he delivered when he was awarded an honorary doctorate by the Hebrew University. He exults at the thrill of creative revelation, “when a character I invented begins to ‘overtake’ me, to run ahead and pull me forward … in some way that I do not fully understand, it infuses me with the materials of life, with ideas, with plot twists and insights I never knew I had. To me, a creative work is the possibility of touching infinity.” Yet even amid this ostensible celebration of his art, Grossman’s reflections invariably turn to his country’s fate and that of Palestinians. For Grossman, the life of the imagination and “the reality of our lives” remain indivisible.
Though the author addresses a range of challenges and controversies in this scathing cri de cœur, his thesis won’t surprise readers who have followed his work over the decades:
Peace must be the primary element in Israel’s security policy, for it is a condition no less critical to the state’s survival than its military might. Any agreement that strengthens Israel’s ties in the region — the ‘Abraham Accords’ for example — must address the Palestinian nation, its tragedy and its wounds: the wound of being refugees, the wound of occupation.
Grossman protests the fatalistic idea that endless cycles of violence are inevitable, as well as the reduction of “authentic human stories” into “manipulative ‘narrative’ and cliché.” Most of all, he fears that the Jewish state “feels a little less like a home and a little more like a fortress.” Israeli society, he says, faces “the terror of impermanence.”
Grossman expresses outrage at the cyclical Gaza war, asking, “[Does it not] finally drive home the comprehension that, at a certain point, our military might become almost irrelevant? That it does not matter how large and heavy the sword we carry is, because ultimately, every sword is a double-edged one?” That truth seems more tragically relevant than ever, and Grossman’s pages are often brimming with similar notes of outrage. Yet in his country’s spirited protests, which saw hundreds of thousands of citizens pouring out into the streets against the corruption of democracy, Grossman finds much to admire:
Many Israelis have suddenly discovered that it is possible to love their country — not with a sentimental, kitschy love, not with fascist idolatry, but rather with a clear-eyed devotion that stems from a desire to make this country our home, and a genuine aspiration to live in peace with our neighbors. This new-found emotion is rooted in a considered and mature civic-mindedness, and an understanding of the spirit of democracy, liberalism, equality and freedom.
Grossman faults the government coup for hindering the country’s creative and vibrant spirit, leaving it beset by a shattered economy, a weakened military, and alarming social backsliding: “There is an accelerating regression … to discrimination and racism; to the exclusion of women, LGBTQ people, and Arabs, to principled ignorance and benightedness.”
Grossman reminds us that Israelis are often trapped in a rightwing-media echo chamber that exploits and confirms their deepest biases and fears and conceals Palestinian suffering. Hence, readers may emerge from Grossman’s courageous and urgent inquiry into the state of his nation’s soul with at least one burning question: in the aftermath of catastrophe, are there enough like-minded fellow citizens to heed his words and effect necessary change? In “Suddenly a Cry Flew,” the long poem that concludes the book, Grossman dares to express that yearning, transcending the gloom of the present to gaze upon a brighter horizon. His words wield genuine liturgical power.
Bristling with intellect and moral insight, The Thinking Heart is an essential barometer of Israel’s condition in the present moment. Perhaps it will help inspire the kind of paradigm shift that might yet reverse the country’s disastrous course.
Ranen Omer-Sherman is the JHFE Endowed Chair in Judaic Studies at the University of Louisville, author of several books and editor of Amos Oz: The Legacy of a Writer in Israel and Beyond.
