Israeli readers are spoilt for choice when it comes to tracking down international literature in Hebrew translation. Rose Tremain's Orange prize-winning The Road Home and a translation of Muriel Barbery's The Elegance of the Hedgehog are both current bestsellers; bookshops are stacked with a comprehensive range of contemporary fiction in translations from around the world, from writers as far apart in location as Haruki Murakami and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

But one distinct geographical body of work is scarcely represented amid this largesse: contemporary literature from Israel's closest neighbours in the Arab world. Arab writing is not completely invisible, to be sure; one can find, for instance, a translation of Mahfouz's Cairo Trilogy without too much difficulty. But this is the exception, rather than the rule. The literary curiosity of Hebrew readers seems to do something of a hop and a skip over their next-door neighbours before settling in further flung climes.

One shouldn't be surprised by this state of affairs, of course; the parlous relationship between Israel and the Arab world makes it all the more difficult to engage with the "other" in terms beyond the mistrustful and belligerent. Many Israelis still define their country as a small nation surrounded by its enemies; in this context, there is little appetite to consider the Arab world in anything other than the most uncomplicated and reductive of terms.

This is a shame. Israelis, I think, have a genuine interest in the wider world: the popularity of translated literature bears testament to this. Literature, I believe, has the capacity to illuminate and inform, to add nuance and depth to the understanding of the people and societies about whom books are concerned. Without meaningful cultural engagement - and representation - it is only too easy to reduce the "other" to a set of stereotypes and caricatures.

But there are attempts, small yet meaningful, to introduce Arabic literature to the Hebrew-reading public. One example is Tel Aviv-based Andalus Books. The publishing house takes its inspiration from the "golden era" of intellectual thought and activity in the Iberian peninsula, a time when "Arabic and Jewish cultures fed and fertilised one another ...(when) texts were translated and ideas exchanged freely from Arabic to Hebrew and vice versa".

Many Israelis have little direct knowledge about Arabic society and culture, and the aspiration of Andalus is to "fill this vacuum by translating books that will cover social, cultural and political issues as expressed through Arabic literary, poetic and expository writings". Thus far, they have published 22 titles, including works by Mohammed Berrada, Mahmoud Darwish, Taha Muhammad Ali, and Elias Khoury.

One could argue that the Israeli situation is little different from that elsewhere in the western world, where the recent success of writers such as Alaa al-Aswany merely belies the anonymity of most literary work from the Arab world. But in Israel, the stakes are higher: the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is fuelled, in part, by an ignorance of the "other". Fighting this ignorance is clearly a move in the right direction.

The same principle operates both ways, of course. There is very little Israeli literature translated into Arabic, even in the countries - Egypt and Jordan - that maintain full diplomatic relations with Israel. Farouk Hosni, the Egyptian minister of culture and nominee to head Unesco, has been widely reported to have threatened - in Egypt's parliament, of all places - to burn all the Israeli books in the country's libraries. But even here, there is cause for optimism. Recently - and perhaps in response to the furore caused by Hosni's remarks - it was announced that the Egyptian ministry of culture will permit translations, for the first time, of works by two of Israel's leading writers, Amos Oz and David Grossman. (Not translated directly from Hebrew, mind, but we shan't dwell on this, at least not today. That's another story and a half.)

It is important not to get too excited. Attitudes ingrained over generations of strife cannot evolve overnight. But it is a step, small but definite, towards creating a cultural detente between the two sides. Incremental change is better than none at all: in any case, it is only through exposure to the "other" that a greater tolerance can be fostered, something that can contribute to progressive improvements in bi- and multilateral relations between Israel and the Arab world. And this surely must count for something, no?