Editor’s Note: Ruth Marks Eglash (@reglash) is a journalist based in Israel. She is the author of the novel “Parallel Lines.” The views expressed here are her own. Read more opinion on CNN.
When I first thought of writing a novel about the toll of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict on young people, a literary agent tried to talk me out of it. As she reasoned, my expertise as a long-time journalist is in fact-based narratives, so wouldn’t it make more sense for me to interview individuals on all sides for a nonfiction book?
She directed me to excellent creative nonfiction works, such as “The 57 Bus” by New York Times bestselling author Dashka Slater, which tells the true story of an agender teen set on fire by another teen while riding a bus in Oakland, California.
While Slater’s sensitive handling of difficult themes such as race, class, gender crime and punishment in the United States is extremely powerful, I hesitated at the thought of drawing inspiration from it for yet another nonfiction book outlining any aspect of my chosen subject, one of the world’s most intractable conflicts. Such a project might draw interest in academic or diplomatic circles and it might even bring a lucrative publishing deal, but it would soon end up on a dusty library shelf next to all the other tomes on Israelis and Palestinians.
At that time, I had been working for The Washington Post for five years and experienced first-hand how journalists have become increasingly ineffective at reporting on this wildly polarizing struggle. Very often, our words or reports only end up serving as tools and cynical proof for one side to lord over the other.
Sadly, the media, and in particular social media, is very much a part of the conflict and, as the situation deteriorates further, many journalists find they are not in a position to change or influence what is happening here, let alone report accurately on it. It seems that the only lasting impact our stories have is to foster more anger, hate and division.
With all of that weighing heavily on my mind, after nearly two decades of writing news stories from this fascinating holy city, I sat down to pen “Parallel Lines.” It is a fictional account of Jerusalem’s myriad conflicts, not only between Israelis and Palestinians or Jews and Arabs but also within Israeli Jewish society itself.
My aim was to create a body of writing that would appeal not only to the minds of my readers as news and feature stories can, but also to their hearts. I knew that if I really wanted to make a difference, if I wanted people to pay attention to the true costs of this tragic, deadly and never-ending war on all sides, and especially on the younger generation, then I needed readers to really feel what the people living here feel.
Ironically, I found inspiration in the popular dystopian science fiction series, “The Hunger Games,” where, like here, teenagers are front and center in an adult-induced war. In a 2018 interview with The New York Times about her book, author Suzanne Collins explained that the essence of her story is an exploration of “just-war theory,” or “an attempt to define what circumstances give you the moral right to wage war and what is acceptable behavior within that war and its aftermath.”
That point hit me hard, as a journalist who spent hours in the field with Israeli and Palestinian political leaders, as well as ordinary civilians. I think I’ve heard enough justifications for war and violence to last a lifetime. I was also struck by the similarities between the fragmented and divided country of Panem, where Collins sets “The Hunger Games,” and the Holy Land, especially Jerusalem, where Israelis and Palestinians also reside, together but completely separately.
Finally, it was Collins’ focus on the role of young people that felt as though life in this part of the world often resembles a real-life “Hunger Games.” From a young age, many children on both sides are groomed, not only by their families, but also by peers, the media and social media, to exclusively accept their sides’ narrative, wholly dismissing the other side, which is not fertile grounds for any future peace process.
In addition, in Israel, most 18-year-old Jewish citizens must serve in the Israel Defense Forces (IDF), where many are trained in combat and ultimately may come face-to-face with Palestinian militants who, it turns out, are often more or less the same age. Meanwhile, just like in Panem, the political leaders managing this conflict sit safely in their offices, making decisions that keep the war going for another generation.
By contrast, another driving force for “Parallel Lines,” was Anthony Doerr’s Pulitzer Prize-winning historical novel, “All the Light We Cannot See.” It’s an enchanting and heartbreaking tale of two young people also caught in the midst of an adult war — this time World War II.
The story centers on Marie-Laure Leblanc, a blind French girl who escapes Paris to the seaside town of Saint-Malo, and Werner Pfennig, a German boy, who must serve the Nazis as a radio technician. As the two struggle to survive the all-encompassing turmoil and pain of conflict, their stories are told in parallel — until their paths ultimately cross.
In “Parallel Lines,” which I decided to dedicate “To all young people growing up in adult conflicts,” I, too, present the conflict from all sides, diving into the minds of three young women from each of Jerusalem’s distinct tribes: Tamar, a secular Jewish Israeli, Nour, a Palestinian Muslim and Rivki, an ultra-Orthodox Jewish Israeli.
In contrast to journalism, where we face limitations on word count or the need to include essential context, background and, of course, responses, literary fiction allows for a more nuanced and broader portrayal of a situation. And telling this complicated story in an unfiltered and more direct way gives greater power to challenge one-sided beliefs, spark critical thinking and, hopefully, inspire action.
By getting inside the heads of my characters, who are based on real-life people, and sharing their experiences, I was able to show what they see and feel as the conflict continues to explode around them. And the best part of putting out a novel like this is that readers have no choice but to listen to the narrative of the other side, whether they agree with it or not.
While some might argue that fiction is a way of avoiding the truth of difficult or sensitive subjects, such as the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, I would say the opposite is true. An excellent example of this is Richard Powers’ “The Overstory,” which also won a Pulitzer. His book takes on the increasingly polarizing debate around the climate crisis. Through multiple and identifiable characters, Powers explores the dangers of damage to our environment and the power of nature, reframing the issue to make it more accessible.
Literature, unlike the fast-paced, ever-changing news cycle — or even the dusty pages of a nonfiction book — can grab a reader’s attention and pull on people’s heartstrings on issues that might be difficult to truly understand or that are deeply divisive. And, in an era of political entrenchment, where societies everywhere are more polarized than ever, these fictional tellings of well-worn stories (or never-ending conflicts) are ever more critical. “Parallel Lines” is exactly that — a retelling and a reframing of an age-old conflict, aimed at those who are seeking a better understanding of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, as well as at those who think they know the reality of life here but really don’t.