A recently published collection of some 700 of Norman Mailer’s letters (selected out of many thousands) suggests that the famed author was the sort of person who always had something to prove. It also contains some scattered yet revealing discussions of Jewish identity, and how Mailer felt it shaped him as a writer. Adam Kirsch writes:

[I]t is in a 1960 letter to [Diana] Trilling that Mailer gives the other longest explanation of what Jewishness meant to him. As a writer, Mailer grants, he lacks “definition,” he is given to posturing and role-playing. Yet “it must be remembered,” he insists, “that he is a Jew and that being a major novelist is not a natural activity for a Jew.” (Note the passing insistence that what he is is a “major” novelist—a certainty that may, of course, conceal a deep insecurity.)

Mailer goes on to sketch an ambitious theory of the history of the novel, according to which the classic 19th-century novel was devoted to the “roots” of society: “the novel came into existence . . . as the avatar of society at the moment society developed roots too subtle for the historian to trace.” At this stage, however, the Jews of Western Europe were only recently emancipated; they had no deep social roots, and so they were unable to be either the heroes or the authors of novels. Major Jewish novelists could not emerge until after World War II, because by then “the 20th century had ripped up all the roots.” The Jew, in his homelessness and insecurity, was now a representative figure: “he never had the genteel security of relaxing in a habit . . . the Jew was always a bloody schizophrenic, his parlor manners greasy and his aspiration incandescent. . . . But now the world was schizophrenic. H-bombs and PTA committees. The Jew—those who were left—could be the first to swim the divided waters.”

On Yom Kippur, Hizballah fired over 200 rockets and drones at Israel, with one drone hitting a retirement home in Herzliya, miraculously without casualties. Yesterday, however, proved less lucky: a drone launched by the Iran-backed group struck a military base, killing four and injuring another 58, about twenty moderately or seriously.

This attack reflects Iranian strategy: Israeli defensive systems are strong, but so are Iranian drones and missiles, and with enough attacks some will get through. As Ariel Kahana writes, such an approach is consistent with Tehran’s desire to fight a war of attrition, denying Jerusalem the chance to strike a decisive blow. Kahana explains how the IDF might turn the tables:

It’s worth noting that Iran’s strategy of wearing down Israel and other U.S. allies in the region is not merely a choice, but a necessity. Militarily, it’s the only card left in Tehran’s hand. Iran neither desires nor possesses the capability to deploy ground forces against Israel, given the vast geographical distance and intervening countries. Moreover, while Israel boasts one of the world’s most formidable air forces, Iran’s air capabilities are comparatively limited.

Israel’s trump card in this high-stakes game is its unparalleled air-defense system. For years, Iran had counted on its network of proxy organizations to provide a protective umbrella against Western strikes. However, a year into the current conflict, this strategy lies in tatters: Hamas is reeling, Hizballah is on the back foot, and the various militias in Iraq and Yemen amount to little more than an irritant for Israel. The result? Iran finds itself unexpectedly exposed.

And when it comes to direct attacks on Israel, Iran’s options may be limited. Its October 1 attack, which used its sophisticated Fateh-2 missiles, was more effective than that in April, but not much more so:

Oded Eilam, drawing on his experience as a former senior Mossad official, . .  estimates [Iran’s] stockpile of these advanced weapons is limited to between 400 and 800. With 200 already expended in a single attack, Iran’s reserves of truly effective missiles may be running low. This raises a critical question: can Iran sustain a prolonged ballistic exchange with Israel? The numbers suggest it’s capacity for attrition warfare may be more limited than it would like to admit.