Tuesday, March 28, 2017

A compelling rendition of this tragic piece of David's story

Dan Strawn is the author of Isaac's GunBody of Work, and Breakfast at Blair'sLame Bird's Legacy, and Black Wolf's ReturnI am honored that he posted this thoughtful review for my art book, Inspired by Art: The Edge of Revolt:

on March 27, 2017
Uvi Poznansy's Inspired By Art—The Edge Of Revolt melds visual mastery with appropriate snatches of biblical verse. The result: Her readers see the tales of David's offspring Amnon, Tamar, and Absolom in new and meaningful ways. Her sequencing follows the chronology of the biblical tales. Her selection of the masters' works allows readers to appreciate the artists' allegiance to their respective societies in telling the Jewish David's story. The resulting versatility, oils to engravings, engravings to water colors, water colors to colored etchings, and more, dazzle the senses. An added bonus: Readers come away with a new appreciation of how great artists exploit the materials and technologies available to them by their cultures.

It's unfair to pick favorites, but I was so moved by some, I can't help commenting.

Poznansky's selection of Raffeallo Sanzio's David's Triumph, with it's gilt and prophetic grandeur, sets up the tragedy's to come. Huzzahs to Uvi for making it the first of the works to come.

Guercino's Amnon and Tamar oozes both sensuality and innocence. I cringed at his vivid prelude to rape, desolation, and rejection.

William Blake's David's Pardoning of Absalom, a masterful watercolour over black lead on paper, imbued me with a sense of the celestial, a fitting aura for an act of forgiveness.

David mourning Absolom: Chagall's sanguine dominance puts a proper emphasis on Absalom's treachery and demise.

The simplicity of Vallotton's David Ascending Mount of Olives underscores David's sorrowful state in ways that can't be matched by more lavish renditions.

Enough. You get my sense. Inspired By Art—The Edge of Revolt is a compelling rendition of this tragic piece of David's story.

Well done, Uvi.

An achingly beautiful woman bathing on a close-by roof

One evening I awaken to the sound of birds, chirping. I get up from my bed and walk around on the roof of the palace, where a red-rumped swallow is trying out its skill in a courtship song. It is springtime. The hills around my city roll in and out of green. The trees beacon me from afar, bearing their blossoms.
Through the decorative lattice that marks the edge of my roof I see a woman, an achingly beautiful woman bathing on a close-by roof. She has just wrapped herself with something translucent, so her body is hidden from sight—all but a distant impression of her foot. 
The first time I saw Bathsheba, back in Hebron, happened seven years ago. Luckily, at that time I had no historians in my employ, which is why that incident has gone unnoticed, and unrecorded in the scrolls. It remains known to me alone, and to her. 
At the time I doubted she had caught sound of my footfalls. I edged closer, advancing stealthily along the shadow, a seemingly endless shadow cast across the flat surface of her roof. Never once did I stop to remind myself that such behavior is unbecoming of a king.
And who could blame me? In her presence I was reduced to a boy.
I brought my crown along, simply to impress her, even though it sat somewhat uncomfortably on my head. It was a bit too large for me, and too loose, too, because it had been fashioned to fit the skull of my predecessor, Saul.
On my way I leapt across a staircase, leading down from the roof. On a railing, there in front of me, was a large Egyptian towel, laying there as if to mark a barrier. I told myself, This isn’t right. I should stop, stop right here and whatever happens I should cover my eyes, avoid taking a peep at her.

Should I turn back?



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Volume I: Rise to Power
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The complete trilogy:
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Written with the artistic grace that is her signature style. She writes with a calm, steady hand that plucks the strings of her tale with lyrical precision that leaves the reader deeply entrenched in her words long after the last page 
-Dii, Top 500 reviewer 

Saturday, March 25, 2017

Ryan never gave me flowers

Even before the taxi drove off, carrying Natasha away from me along with her Mama, I hailed another one. Dashing inside, “Quick!” I told the driver, as I pointed ahead. “Follow that car!”
Then, just before I had a chance to close the door, thump! Lana hopped in. With no apologies she landed in my lap, clutching what remained of the roses. She stuck her nose in one of them and sighed with misplaced gratitude. 
“Oh what a lovely gesture!” she said. “Ryan never gave me flowers, not even on our first date, let alone on our anniversary, which happened the day he was drafted, so that to his relief, he had to miss it. He could learn a thing or two from you. My, what a gentleman, what a fine young man you are!”
I had not the heart to tell her that the flowers were not meant for her, exactly. The only thing I could do, as the car jerked into motion, was to ease her off of me.
“Oh, you don’t have to tell me. I know,” she said, with a sudden spark of intuition. “You bought them for that girl, that redhead! Don’t say no.”
I didn’t.
“So cute, is what she is,” said Lana, with a shrug. “So I understand, but I can’t say I’m not jealous.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
Smelling the roses and raising them to my nose, she asked, “What about these? Are they mine, now?”
“Sure,” I said, as gallantly as I could, patting her hand over the broken stems. “You can have them.”
“Oh,” moaned Lana. “I would never have guessed it, looking at those muscles of yours. You have the most buttery touch.”
“I do?”
“I’ll make believe you meant to give me these flowers, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t.”
For some reason she proceeded to tell me the whole story of how she had met Ryan. I could barely concentrate on it, because my mind was elsewhere. I was worrying that Natasha might slip away from methis time foreverif the driver would fail to catch up to that cab. 
Lana crossed one shapely leg over another, as if to pose for me, and went on with her account of things, which was becoming increasingly long-winded. 
“A few months ago I went to a party,” she said, in her Russian accent. “I made sure I arrived fashionably latewell, slightly later than thatbecause what’s a girl to do if she wants to draw attention to herself?”
“Don’t ask me.” 
Undeterred, she pressed on. “And as I entered, there he was,” she said, “standing sheepishly next to his boss. At the time he seemed like a shy, inexperienced young fellow, no, not his boss but Ryan himself, which may surprise you, because I can telllooking at the pictures he has sent me from Londonthat nowadays he seems to be carrying on, with great confidence as well as vigor, with the ladies.”
“Oh, forget them.” 
“Yeah. Drat those English ladies!”
“Amen,” I said, absentmindedly.
“So to make a short story long,” she droned on, “let me tell you about what happened at that party.”
I tried, for her sake, to show some interest. “Can’t wait to hear.”
“His boss, a fatherly, middle-aged man, took me aside to tell me what a fine boy Ryan was, and if I asked him, which I didn’t, we would make such a handsome couple, and perhaps, just perhaps, the most clever way to his heart was for me to show some familiarity with classical music, because Ryan was interested in it and was known to buy tickets, on a regular basis, for some God-awful concerts.”
“How nice.”
I was barely listening to her and must have missed a few sentences. Outside, an invisible hand started painting forests of frost upon the windowpane, through which I could see torrents of snow flowing towards us, lit by the headlights of our cab. I spotted patches of ice here and there and hoped we would not slide over them.
“Don’t you worry,” said the driver, glancing at me through the mirror over his head. “You’re making me nervous, the way you bite your nails. Please, just sit back and relax, will you?”

Lenny in The Music of Us


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Masterfully written, this is one of those reads that will stick with you by evoking emotion and causing an introspective contemplation" 
-Dennis Waller, Top 500 Reviewer

A remarkable collection!

Jan Romes is the author of witty contemporary romance books, and a part-time fitness trainer. She also enjoys growing pumpkins and sunflowers. I am thrilled to find her review of my art book, Inspired by Art: Fall of a Giant:

By 
Verified Purchase(What's this?)
This review is from: Inspired by Art: Fall of a Giant (The David Chronicles Book 5) (Kindle Edition)
This is an incredible collection of art that accompanies the author's The David Chronicles series. I give Ms. Poznansky a lot of credit for this extraordinary way of giving us an insight into David. I love how she describes him in her books; to see him portrayed by the many artists shines an even bigger light on who he was. The author has a unique vision for sharing this historical figure with us.

Friday, March 24, 2017

Great images set an awesome stage for envisioning history

I am thrilled to find a five-star review for my art book, Inspired by Art: The Edge of Revolt. The review is written by top Amazon reviewer and author Sheila Deeth. In addition to her novel, Divide by Zero, she has written The Five Minute Bible Story Series, and other books. With a Masters in mathematics from Cambridge University, England, she is a a top reviewer for Amazon, Goodreads, Gather and other reading sites. This is what she says:

From the rich bright colors of classical painting, through the pallor of engravings, the silk and foil-wrapped threads of old techniques, and even the mystical brush-strokes of modern art, Uvi Poznansky’s trail through art’s inspiration tells the story of King David’s erring sons Amnon and Absolom with startling immediacy. It’s a tale that starts with temptation and violation and ends with war’s hard-wrought peace—the dark side of Biblical history perhaps.

For me, the most lasting images are Guercino’s study for the Feast of Absalom—a picture that with its very lack of color offers a scarily graphic image of hatred, anger and despair—and Schwebel’s modern-day Jaffa Road and Zion Square. A father mourns in the vivid reds of Chagall, a general warns, and an aging kings looks back on his past—an image that surely sets the stage for the author’s beautiful novels of King David’s life and times.

There’s another Inspired by Art book coming soon, and I can hardly wait to enjoy it. Author Uvi Poznansky makes history come to life in her novels, and brings art to life in these beautiful art books too.

Disclosure: I found it on a deal and I love it.

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

Meet my new narrator: voice talent Bob Sterry

I am so excited to present a new talent, with whom I will be collaborating in the next few months to produce the long-awaited audiobook edition of my historical fiction novel, The Edge of Revolt. I went through the audition process, listening to many actors, in an effort to find just the right voice for this fascinating, complex character of David, a king in the winter of his life. And I knew from the moment I heard Bob Sterry that he would be perfect for the role.

So, let me tell you about him. Bob is a voiceover actor, writer, singer, occasional stage actor and humorist. Originally trained in the UK as research analytical chemist, he immigrated into the United States in the seventies, working as a wine waiter in New Jersey, a fork lift truck driver in Connecticut, and spent his professional career in the marketing of scientific instruments and services in New Jersey, Hong Kong and around the world.

It was not until he started writing short articles and poetry in the nineties that his creative talents found an outlet, and he began to sing seriously in choirs and extemporaneous groups. In 1999 he and his wife Anne-Louise Sterry, a well-known speaker, singer and storyteller, founded a short lived but much loved faux cowboy wannabe band, ‘Anne-Louise and the Cascade Urban Cowboys’. Discovering his on stage talent he took the step to starting his own show of songs and spoken word. His singing is Cabaret satire with Broadway and the English Musical Hall grinning in the wings with a nod to the classical style. Recent shows were ‘The Bob Sterry Atomic Summer Show’ and ‘The Book of Bob’, and ‘A Sterry Sterry Night’ with Anne-Louise Sterry.

Adding Voice Over work to this was an obvious step. Bob's clear ennunciation coupled with strong language skills and familiarity with technical terms result in excellent communication. His sense of humor and acting skill is perfect for tongue in cheek promotions. Thanks to voice coach Lesley Bailey and recording genius Marc Rose at FuseAudio Design Bob offers his voice to anyone who needs it.

Bob is passionate about cycling, cooking, language and literature. Here is a beautiful poem he wrote, which resonates with me not only because it is so personal but also because it bears a relationship to the story in my book: the story of a father who loves his son dearly and struggles to hold on to the closeness between them. 

I saw a little guy being born
I cut the cord that tied him
I held him in my arms
With his dark damp hair
Wetting my hospital gown

And his dark eyes looking up
Looked right through me
And saw something I could not
And perhaps it’s best that way

Even then he was serene
And had the knack of sleep
A skill he has preserved
Lying so neatly in his bed
A lovable length of boy

I saw a little guy grow
Into a lovely boy
Who spoke quietly
And was always gentle.

I saw a lovely boy grow
Into a slender young man
And felt all his wounds
Like my own, once again
Deep and full of rage

I can sense his young anger
And his musical desire
Waiting for an unknown muse
To strike him and lead him
Somewhere….

I see a slender young man
I cut the cord that ties him
And watch his dark hair
Disappear from my view
From my damp eyes.

Of all the pains in the world we have to endure those inflicted unconsciously by our children are some of the hardest to bear.

More about our work in the coming weeks... Stay tuned! Meanwhile, check out Bob's links:

The Edge of Revolt
AudiobookAmazon  Audible  iTunes

In the midst of spring blossom

A poem by my father, Zeev Kachel

We pass by each other without speaking, dumbly
We look at each other—blindly
Loneliness crying out of our eyes
But we keep on, silently.
Each one of us carrying a load 
Each one suffering, utterly slowed
Each one going on, down this road

See there, a couple just passed in embrace.
We used to walk this way, do you still remember?
You looked forward to my coming.
In the midst of spring blossom, here's the sorrow of fall.
And the recognition that it's all over.
Today, between us came a wall.
Now, never to return, life has all
But passed. That is fall.
No one to shake a hand, no one to give a nod.
You and me, through this isolation we plod.
It's fall: all flawed.


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"This radiant book is an exploration of the bond between a daughter and father and the book overflows with some of the most eloquent poetic moments in print. HOME is an invitation, a very personal one, and should not be passed over."
-Grady Harp, Hall of Fame Reviewer

Sunday, March 19, 2017

Opening their petals as if to let out a blood-red flame

War ended that fateful day, a dozen years ago, when the king of the Ammonites was dragged before me on his knees. Once I set his magnificent crown upon my head, news spread to the neighboring nations, and they were struck with awe. All of a sudden they managed to recover something that had gone missing before: an urge to suspend all hostilities. 
In the spirit of peace, their leaders came around to congratulate me on my victorious exploits. To this day they keep sending me humble greetings, written with profuse flattery, on scrolls attached to expensive gifts. Why? Perhaps to sate my appetite, so I would not find it in my heart to conquer their territories and empty their cities to fill my coffers with loot.
I often reflect on how the destruction of one place feeds the renewal of another and dread to think that a day will come—perhaps beyond my lifetime—when the City of David will stand in ruins, mourning the lives of its defenders and the exile of its few remaining men, women, and children. 
I wish I could stop projecting my mind into the future or dwelling on the past. Before the change of seasons overtakes us, let me enjoy every minute of the present.
With the constant flow of goods into the land, a new era has begun. In every square, you see markets bustling with shoppers who fill their bags with imported merchandise. On every street corner, you spot buildings being erected, roofs being pitched to the happy sound of saws and hammers. 
My empire stretches out all the way west to the sea, and all the way east to the wreckage, where the city of Rabbah used to stand before my conquest. That place, where the earth was drenched with blood, is now marked with an unusually vibrant burst of blossoms. 
It is spring. 
Seeds and potted plants arrive on special convoys to my royal gardens, and soil too, because without it they cannot take root here. With tender care, they will bloom every year from now on, opening their petals as if to let out a blood-red flame.

David in The Edge of Revolt


★ Love Reading? Treat yourself to a gift 

Volume I: Rise to Power
EbookKindle  Nook  Apple ★ Kobo  Google Play  Smashwords
PaperbackAmazon ★ Barnes&Noble
AudiobookiTunes ★ Amazon ★ Audible

Volume II: A Peek at Bathsheba
EbookKindle ★ Nook ★ Apple ★ Kobo ★ Google Play ★ Smashwords
PaperbackAmazon ★ Barnes&Noble
AudiobookiTunes ★ Amazon ★ Audible

Volume III: The Edge of Revolt
EbookKindle ★ Nook ★ Apple ★ Kobo ★ Google Play ★ Smashwords
Paperback Amazon ★ Barnes&Noble
AudiobookAmazon ★ Audible ★ iTunes

The complete trilogy:
The David Chronicles (Boxed Set) 
EbookKindle  Apple  Nook  Kobo  Smashwords




"The miracle of Uvi Poznansky's writing is her uncanny ability to return to old stories 
and make them brilliantly fresh"
-Grady Harp, Hall of Fame reviewer