Something deeply troubling is happening in American publishing. What may have begun as hostility toward Israel and Zionism increasingly appears to be bleeding into something broader: discomfort with Jews and Jewish identity itself.
The evidence is becoming difficult to dismiss. PEN America recently interviewed more than 30 Jewish and Israeli writers and publishing professionals who described lost representation, canceled opportunities and pressure to minimize Jewish identity.
One prominent Israeli literary agent who previously sold five to 10 novels a year to American publishers says she has sold none since Oct. 7, 2023. Some editors have reportedly told her not even to submit Israeli writers.
Then there is author Meg Keene. An established nonfiction writer whose books sold more than 150,000 copies, Keene could not find a publisher for her first novel. She says an agent told her it was “too Jewish” and advised her to eliminate Jewish material that did not drive the plot. Even the name Yael was questioned because it sounded Israeli.
That small detail says something enormous.
This is no longer simply about whether publishers are reluctant to touch books defending Israel or expressing Zionist views. Israeli identity becomes suspect. Then an Israeli-sounding name becomes problematic. Then Jewish references become expendable. The boundary between opposition to Israel and discomfort with Jews begins disappearing.
No one can prove why any particular manuscript was rejected, and publishing decisions are notoriously subjective. But Keene found that fiction deals at large presses mentioning Jews, Judaism or Israel declined 76% between 2023 and 2024. The anecdotal evidence is piling up as well: agents advising writers to remove Jewish references, editors going silent and bookstores refusing events.
All of this is particularly galling coming from an industry that spent years celebrating diversity, representation and “own voices.” Apparently, Jews may tell their own stories — provided those stories contain the right kind of Jews.
A Jewish character disconnected from Israel may be acceptable. A Jew embarrassed by Zionism may be interesting. But a Jew named Yael, with a boyfriend in Tel Aviv? Suddenly the diversity becomes uncomfortable.
That is not inclusion. It is ideological gatekeeping.
There is, thankfully, another part of this story. Jewish writers and publishing professionals are responding by building. New presses, agencies and literary ventures are being created to publish books others will not. Meg Keene Books, Canary Publishing and Blueprint Literary are among efforts to provide homes for Jewish and Israeli voices increasingly worried that mainstream publishing no longer wants them. We should celebrate them, support them and buy their books. But we should not become comfortable with their necessity.
Jews have considerable experience building institutions when existing ones decide we are unwelcome. There is resilience and even optimism in doing so again. There is also something terribly sad about it.
In America in 2026, a Jewish writer should not have to wonder whether a Hebrew name, an Israeli character or an unapologetically Jewish story will cost a book its chance to be published. And no industry that congratulates itself on amplifying marginalized voices should be permitted to quietly decide that Jewish voices are the exception.
