Edward Grossman’s journalism and fiction have been published in English, Hebrew, Arabic, French, Swedish, Chinese, Japanese, and Russian.
The philosopher in black turtleneck, black trousers, black shoes, and black yarmulke pacing the stage with a microphone skinning the Jews alive.
Two Israelis on a road trip venture to Arlington National Cemetery and encounter there the graves of brothers.
On a visit with the proprietor of Russell’s Bakery and his multi-ethnic, multi-political, and multi-religious staff, the story of Israel unfolds in microcosm.
In the mid-1970s, an Israeli military governor in Ramallah watches the trial of four young Arab men who have accused their interrogators of torture.
Nineteen-eighty-five was the year, and our IDF unit was a motley of immigrants and native sons, grocers, kibbutzniks, accountants, plus a loudmouth named Shmulik . . .
A report from the future: in a ceremony last night, the 2015 prize was awarded to Barack Obama, John Kerry, Mohammed Zarif, and Hassan Rouhani. (Or was it?)
My respondents see the Israeli glass as more than half full; I see it as more than half empty. Let’s hope I’m wrong.
In Iran’s nuclear program, Israel faces a threat like never before. Can a divided nation pull together in time to confront it?