Uri Kurlianchik: Meet the Israeli Author Speaking up for Israel on X

Ask Uri Kurlianchik how his Soviet background shaped his relationship with Israel, and he points to things many people barely notice: the variety of products in shops, the books available to read, the movies waiting to be watched.

The Israeli author behind @VerminusM is known to his followers for arguments about Israel. But asked what he appreciates about the country, he begins with the ordinary pleasures of having choices.

“I think it made me appreciate a lot of things that sabras take for granted,” he says, referring to native born Israelis.

“Everyone was born to a colorful world, but I was born to a black and white world so I never take the color for granted.”

Born in the Soviet Union in 1985, Kurlianchik moved to Israel in 1989. His author biography lists that experience alongside two other influences on his imagination: exploring the country on foot and creating adventures with the people who play his games.

That combination gives him plenty to draw on. His work spans fiction, fantasy and roleplaying games, while his posts bring his opinions to an audience that may never have opened one of his books.

In a written interview with Israel News Pulse, he explains how those worlds connect, why October 7 hardened his voice and what humor can accomplish when a serious argument gets nowhere.

Beyond the arguments

Our opening question gave Kurlianchik more trouble than he expected: What would his followers be surprised to learn about him?

“This question was surprisingly difficult to answer because I basically share every aspect of my life online.”

People sometimes assume he is secretive, he says. His own assessment is rather different: “I don’t really have a private life.”

The boundary he does draw concerns other people. He keeps events to himself when sharing them would affect the privacy of friends or family. Being willing to expose his own life does not, in his view, give him permission to expose theirs.

One interest, however, may get lost behind the political arguments.

“I’m fascinated with all human cultures, folklore, and history,” he says.

He recognizes that his focus on Israel and Jews can give an impression of insularity. He describes himself as “extremely multicultural and plural,” while rejecting what he calls the “suicidal empathy” attached to those ideas in recent years.

His answer holds those positions together. Curiosity about other cultures is part of how he describes himself; so is a determination to defend his own. Readers looking for the first impulse can find it throughout his fiction.

A storyteller’s view of Israel

Long before this interview, Kurlianchik was turning places he visited into settings for imaginary adventures.

In a 2015 essay about creating Tales from an Israeli Storyteller, he described returning from trips to natural or historical sites and inventing stories about them. Some became magazine pieces. Others supplied the foundations for roleplaying adventures. By the time he decided to assemble a collection, much of the writing already existed.

The result was an illustrated collection of twenty short stories rooted in real locations. Its fantasy grows out of the landscape: creatures, legends and unlikely encounters give familiar places another life.

His book descriptions offer a sense of the company readers can expect to keep. A golem troubles its creator. An Indian snake goddess travels to Jerusalem. Elsewhere in his work, a princess arriving at a party on a distant planetoid discovers that she is being auctioned and must arrange her own rescue. That last premise belongs to his science fiction novel Noblesse Oblige.

There is a practical side to this imagination. Kurlianchik has written for roleplaying publishers including Wizards of the Coast, Paizo and Mongoose. His work has also included running Dungeons & Dragons sessions for children and teenagers in schools and community centers.

Writing a game and writing a story presented different challenges, he explained in the 2015 essay. A game writer can build obstacles and leave the players to devise their escape. A fiction writer has to work out what happens on both sides.

He also recalled rewriting stories to prevent their political settings from overwhelming the action. He wanted the places to feel real while keeping readers involved in the adventure.

That concern with the reader’s experience carries into his explanation of what he does online.

“The goal of fiction is to tell about things in a way that makes people feel, not just think,” he tells Israel News Pulse. “This is my goal with my non-fiction writing as well.”

He wants to reach “the heart and imagination,” drawing readers into events they might otherwise encounter as another stream of headlines.

“Because of my background in fiction and fantasy, I see the epic in everything.”

It is an ambitious way to approach a platform built around brief exchanges. He wants people to feel the significance of the period they are living through.

“I want to show people the epic grandiosity of our time, not just inform them.”

What October 7 changed

Asked how the attacks changed his writing, Kurlianchik answers in blunt terms.

“It made me totally uncompromising and intolerant of the enemy.”

He says he has stopped worrying about whom his words might alienate, including people he considers false friends. Maintaining those relationships no longer governs what he is willing to say.

“I no longer care who I hurt, who I alienate, what fake friends will feel uncomfortable.”

Then comes a line that combines his anger with his instinct for wordplay.

“If something I say hurts you, good. You’re welcome to cry a river to the sea.”

He describes the change as a decision about his priorities. Politeness has lost its claim on him when he believes something more serious is at stake.

“I’m done being polite, I’m done being nice. Now I’m in the business of being good.”

In his telling, goodness must be capable of confronting evil with force and conviction. He reaches for Milton’s description of the devil standing abashed before goodness, bringing a literary reference into an answer about the aftermath of October 7.

Then he puts the point in his own words.

“Goodness should be more powerful and frightening than evil, otherwise what’s it good for?”

The joke, the audience and the unexpected date

For all that intensity, Kurlianchik has little interest in making every argument solemn.

“First of all, if you want people to think you’re smart, you need to make them laugh,” he says. “If you just say smart things, they’ll think you’re a dweeb.”

His explanation for how humor carries an idea is less literary than his reference to Milton.

“Think of it like the meat you put around the pill you’re trying to stuff into your dog.”

The joke gives people a reason to pay attention. But he also sees humor as a way to change the balance of an argument.

When he believes someone is acting in bad faith, his attention shifts toward the people watching the exchange. A serious debate, he argues, can give that opponent more standing than they deserve. Ridicule can undermine it.

“If you engage in a serious, good faith debate with someone who’s clearly acting in bad faith, again, you sound like a dweeb,” he says. “But if you can make people laugh at them, you strip them of their power.”

His distinction is between persuading the person answering him and reaching the audience following along. The opponent may remain unmoved. For Kurlianchik, the reaction of everyone else can still make the exchange worthwhile.

But when asked which exchange with a reader has stayed with him most, Kurlianchik recalls something more personal.

“There was one exchange that led to me dating the reader for a few months. That certainly left an impression… ;)”

Follow Uri Kurlianchik on X.

Based on a written interview with Uri Kurlianchik.