Friday, February 28, 2014

How dare she say "that skyscraper of yours?"

But now, Bathsheba… She is different. My God, she is a woman! Which is why she seems untouchable to me, and not only because she is married. 
All of a sudden she stirs. Has the water cooled down?
“Go away,” she says, with her back to me. 
It seems that shame is not in her nature. She moves the big sponge around her neck, into one armpit, then another, knowing full well I cannot take my eyes off her. I cannot help but notice the bubbles of soap sliding slowly down, all the way down, then around her slippery curves. She may be the one in the tub—but contrary to my expectations, I am the one trapped.
“Go back to your place, sir, to that skyscraper thing of yours.” She points carelessly in the direction of the window at the top of my tower. 
What she should be saying is your majesty or my lord rather than sir, but at this turn of events I hardly wish to correct her.
So she goes on to say, “And sir—”
“Yes?” I say, eagerly.
“No need to hide behind that curtain, up there,” says Bathsheba. “What, you think I haven’t noticed? You think I care?”
“I know you don’t,” I say, gloomily.
Feeling uninvited should not come as a surprise to me—but somehow it does. Hell, what was I thinking? That she will accept me with open arms, like every other girl I know? 
I kneel down by her side, which forces me to adjust the crown, because it is now tilting on my head. 
In profile, her lashes hang over her cheek, and the shadow flutters. Bathsheba brings her hand to her lips and ever so gently, blows off a bubble. It comes off the palm of her hand, then swirls around in the evening breeze, becoming more iridescent until its glassy membrane thins out, and then—pop! Nothing is left but thin air. 
“Leave me be,” she says, stretching her arms lazily, as if to prepare for a yawn. “You may watch me from up there all day long, if that’s the kind of thing you like.”
“You sure put on a good show. I never imagined a woman could pose so many different ways in a small tub.”
“Well, if you must know, it’s quite a ritual. Takes a lot to purify the mind.”
“And the body, too.” 
“Yes,” says Bathsheba. “A lot of hard work.”
“Apparently so,” say I. “A lot of time, too.”
“Oh, go away already!” She waves a hand at me, still without as much as a glance in my direction. To make matters worse, she turns away. “I can feel your eyes in my back. Just, stop it. Stop watching me.”
“I am grateful to you,” I say, “for every moment of it.”
To which she utters a sigh, barely containing her boredom. 
Then, on a whim, she plunges underwater nearly all the way, so all that remains above the foamy surface is the little embroidered towel wrapped around her head. 
After several evenings of watching her from afar I still have no idea if her hair is curled or straight, red or brown. I have painted her in my mind several different ways already, each time more beautiful than the other. By now it matters little to me. She is so sexy, she might as well be bald. 
When she comes back up, “What,” she says. “You still here?”
“What’s the point of going up there,” I say, hearing a slight tone of complaint in my voice. I hope she does not think me childish. That would be devastating. 
With a hint of a smile, she asks, “What does that mean, What’s the point?”
So I say, “You would seem too small from above.”
“Really,” says Bathsheba. “I thought I spotted you standing by your window, with your sword aimed at me.”
To which I explain, “I could not see a thing through the glass. It became cloudy, or something. At this time of day, even though it is only the beginning of summer, it’s much too steamy in the office.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ve had it with men.”
I can find nothing to say, and perhaps there is no need to. She can tell, can’t she, how desperately I ache for her.
“My life is scandal-free at the moment,” she says. “It feels nice for a change.”
Lucas Cranach the Elder. 'David and Bathsheba.' 1526

Pablo Picasso, after Lucas Cranach the Edler. 'David and Bathsheba,' 1947

This passage, selected with tender loving care by my narrator David George, is what you will hear when you play the voice sample for the audiobook edition. If the use of modern language surprises you, if you have expected a language that dates to biblical times--or, failing that, at least good old Shakespeare English, and if you find yourself shocked by Bathsheba mentioning a skyscraper--please consider this:

The view of the story has undergone amazing transformation over the ages. Take a look, for example, at the Painting 'David and Bathsheba' painted by Lucas Cranach the elder in 1526. He treated his subjects with awe and reverence, and the only naked skin visible is Bathsheba's little foot, bathed by an adoring maid. David is presented as a psalmist, rather than a leering, dirty old man peeping on an unsuspecting, naked woman. There is no sin here! 

Now compare the way Picasso transformed this very painting. The composition is exactly the same (only mirrored left to right) but the brush stroke is modern, it is spontaneous and fresh, bringing a sizzle to the entire scene. He enlarged the proportions of all the figures, especially David, so it is easier to spot the king here, because he is the only one fleshed out among the men at the top. His musical instrument is barely sketched, because the important activity is not playing heavenly music but rather gazing at the women, gazing at all the women, with keen, sexual interest. The water dripping from Bathsheba's foot is clearly emphasized, with its juicy suggestion of a symbol of lust.

There is no right and wrong way to interpret the story. As an artist and writer, I believe that my mission is to let the characters speak to you through my pen. The king is flesh and blood in my mind, and so is Bathsheba. 

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Thursday, February 27, 2014

My new audiobook Rise to Power just came live on Audible!

My new audiobook Rise to Power just came live on Audible! Check it out:

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“What a treat to have the story of David presented in such a stimulating manner”

LOVED IT LOVED IT LOVED IT !!!! #audiobooks #audible

The title says it all! New review for Twisted, the audiobook:

  • Cookie's PrincessGreenock, United Kingdom02-27-14
    Would you recommend this audiobook to a friend? If so, why?
    You will be familiar with the stories.. by listening to them in this way brings them really to life..

    Who was your favorite character and why?
    Job's wife the nameless one has been she is most challenging and controversial figure in the Bible..

    Which character – as performed by Heather Jane Hogan – was your favorite?
    Again Job's wife.. was shocked at first with the 4 letter word.. but It added more depth to her character..

    Who was the most memorable character of Twisted and why?
    The Devil.. the voice was sweet and I felt this was how the devil will lure you in..

    Any additional comments?
    It was .Dark... intense.. entertaining.. thought-provoking and very emotional
    I loved it..

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

The brink of enlightenment

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 truly honored that he  posted this review for Rise to Power:

4.0 out of 5 stars A good readFebruary 26, 2014
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This review is from: Rise to Power (The David Chronicles) (Kindle Edition)
Who is this David? This King of the Jews? Did he really have God in his corner? Was he His instrument, one He used to set up a royal lineage? The one some say Emmanuel would spring from? Or was he a mere visionary, in love with himself, using his multiple talents to sway the masses for his own purpose: absolute power?

Uvi Poznansky raises these conflicted possibilities, takes her readers to the brink of enlightenment, then fades away, leaving them to ferret their own versions of the way things were.

What results is great reading that mixes pathos, heroism, and tragedy while delving into the motives of this mere man who would become king, hero, legend … inspiration for the master artists of future millennia.

Huzzahs to Uvi!

I'll purchase the sequel

A madman is in the house

During the production of Rise to Power I learned one thing about David George, the voice talent for the audiobook edition: he is a man of few words. He lets his thoughts resound in his voice, in the reading of the text. I indicated to him what passage I would choose for  the audio sample (which is what you'll listen to on the Audible/Amazon product page), saying I loved the way he read it, teasing out notes of comedy at the beginning, followed by quick action, and culminating with deep, profound ruminations. 

So when he asked me--once again--what passage I prefer for the voice sample, I knew he had  a different passage in mind, only he would not say it outright. So I invited him  to tell me about it. In turn David indicated a different passage, saying that, "It's classic and sexy and reminds me of the Leonard Cohen song Hallelujah." With these words, and with the steamy scene he chose, how could I refuse him? More precisely, how could I disobey the king? 

What did David choose, you ask? For now, I would not tell you! Yeah, yeah, sorry to be such a tease, but lets wait just a little bit, until the audiobook is out. Meanwhile, here is the passage I liked: David feigning madness in the court of Achish of Gath:

So I use my growing irritation to my advantage: I pretend to be insane. After all, I have learnt from the best, having worked such a long time in the court of a madman. Here I am, in the hands of these Philistines, so what choice do I have but to act like a lunatic?
 With my fingernails I scratch at the walls, and make marks on the doors of the gate, all the while letting saliva run down my beard. They go on making fun of me, so I figure I might as well join their performance. 
I break into their midst, hop onto the center of the hearth, and kick its pebbles till they fly out every which way. Then I sing with bold ecstasy at the utmost top of my voice, “David! David! David!” and point my fingers, glaring at everyone around me, and at Achish most of all. 
And for a grand finale I roll my eyeballs around in their sockets, and let out a terrifying wail, which silences each and every one of them. Alas, it takes the wind out of me, so I fall to the floor, where I start convulsing, with just enough breath to let my lips twitch.
They cup their ears, bending over me to listen. One of them manages to guess at my words. I wheeze, “Slaying his tens of thousands... Thousands... Thousands…”
And with spasm, again I cry, “David! David! David!”
Achish glances at his advisers, and they bow their heads down, some in shame, others in confusion.
“Look at the man,” he points. “He’s insane! He’s stark raving mad! Why bring him to me? Am I so short of madmen that you have to bring this fellow here to carry on like this in front of me? Must this man come into my house?”
It is then that the four guards close in on me. They take hold of my limbs and carry me—spread eagle—out of the palace, and throw me out into the street, where a large, voluptuous Philistine women helps me to my feet and dusts off my knees and my shoulders. 
I smell the salt of the sea on her perfume, which is left in the air even after she has turned from me. Because of a moment of dizziness I cannot recall her face. The only impression left in me is the curve of her thigh, as she has swayed her big hips to walk away. 
I wish I could speak her language. I wish I could tell her, before she disappears completely into the crowd, “I am no Samson—but like him, I find myself desperate, so desperate to touch you.” 
Oh, how glad I would be to make my peace with you, city of Gath! I wish to bury my head in your soft, white sands, and listen to the breakers rolling in from the sea, and never once think of having to come back here one day to conquer you, because your children have humiliated me, my beautiful enemy, my Delilah. 
But return to you I must. It is in my heart, and in my tired, aching limbs, because revenge never stops. It never ceases to spur all of us into spilling each other’s blood.

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Tuesday, February 25, 2014

A majestic bust—the bust of Beethoven—perched above me

"A majestic bust—the bust of Beethoven—perched above me. At the time I didn’t hardly know who or what Beethoven was. Anyhow, I was so scared that it made my hair curl. The bust seemed to gaze fiercely at the air with them marble eyes, eyes as intense as they was vacant. "

This, in Anita's voice, is the first time we see the bust of Beethoven in my novel

From the beginning, this bust is more than a mere decorative object; it is, in fact, nearly a character, with a special relationship to Anita. It represents where the previous wife, Natasha, came from--a world of music and inspiration, from where the bust stares down, as if in contempt, at the unrefined, uncultured Anita. But just like a character, the bust of Beethoven undergoes a change as we travel along the arc of the story. Once the white piano has disappeared from the scene, the bust is out of place. Here is the way Ben describes the change:

"My father would rub his eyes, amazed to discover Beethoven's bust planted down there, in the dust, on the floor, its eyes frozen in dumb confusion. Discarded. No longer perched on top, it seems to have shrunk—or else the space has, somehow, ballooned around it.

The marble head seems cropped by a beam of light on one side, and a pile of music notebooks on the other. The sculpted shoulders lean against streaks of peeling wallpaper, blackened streaks that have previously gone unnoticed, crumbling away in the shadows, behind the bulk of the piano, which is now missing."

From this point on, Beethoven becomes a silent witness to the goings on in this family. And not a willing witness, mind you, as described by Anita, in her tongue-in-cheek manner:

"By the time Lenny returns from the door, I’ve crossed the floor on all four, all the way to Beethoven, and turned him around so he don’t face us no more, and instead he points his nose at the corner, and I’ve come right back to lay, in a foxy pose, on them pillows...

It’s not only me wondering about it—it’s Beethoven as well, his blank eyes following every one of our moves from down there, on the floor, like he’s annoyed at his bad luck, having to witness all this—and in slow motion, too!—and his neck, despite being solid, must be terribly cramped, and like, he hopes to be relieved of that pain pretty soon, and stretch his neck, and could we please stop idling there like some tired old couple, and come stomping off in his direction, and break it already."

In the watercolor, I rendered the bust in blue colors, as befits a thing of marble, a character really, one that tries to keep a cool head, so to speak, in an environment that has been whipped with a whirlwind of passion, guilt, blame and grief.

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Monday, February 24, 2014

An extraordinary feat

A new Goodreads review written by Kimberly Lucero for Twisted:

Kimberly Lucero rated it ★★★★★
An extraordinary feat by Uvi Poznansky! Her incredible and brilliant ways of writing are unlike any other. Growing up as a Christian I immediately knew who the characters were but had never heard them described in such a way! I was marveled and thrilled by this book, and quite shocked at times! A brilliant work of art by this creative author! I can't wait to read more of her work!

Sunday, February 23, 2014

The last piece in the puzzle is in! #audiobooks #audible

Last night I had the pleasure of listening to the last chapter, A Peek at Bathsheba, and I must tell you this: her voice is the richest, most velvety, warm and engaging you have ever heard, even if--or maybe because--it came from the throat of David George, the voice talent for my book. 

And today I listened to the last two pieces in this puzzle: the opening and closing credits, which truly brought home to me the fact that the production is complete. Take a listen. The dramatic music you hear under David's voice is from Handel's Saul, which is a perfect backdrop for Rise to Power.

Guercino's painting of Saul and David

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Saturday, February 22, 2014

Apart From Love

Short and sweet review for Apart From Love.
Thank you so much, Reader First!

5.0 out of 5 stars Apart From LoveFebruary 22, 2014
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This review is from: Apart From Love (Kindle Edition)
This book was wonderfully written and very intriguing. Uvi's style is like beautiful poetry. I have never read a book like this and because of Uvi's brilliance I will definitely read more books in this genre. Well done to the talented author, I am a new fan.:-)

Inspired by art, here's the question: Is David a killer or a poet?

In my novel, Rise to Power, the first time David senses a conflict in his soul is in his youth, at the seminal moment when he is about to say farewell to Saul, and go face Goliath in battle:

“I lay the armor down at the king’s feet. It is leaning down there against my broken lyre. And a thought crosses my mind: here are the relics I am about to leave behind. Combat gear on one side—my string instrument on the other. Which way will I be remembered? Am I a fighter—or a poet?”

But while he sees himself standing at a crossroad, still with the possibility of holding on to his identity as a poet, others--such as king Saul--see him in an entirely different way:

“I catch sight of the reflection, my reflection in his eyes. In a flash I know Saul sees me as a danger to him. He fears me, he prays for my demise, and at the same time he adores me, too. In me he hopes to capture the fading image of that which is lost to him. His youth. 
I ask myself, what makes him so jealous of me? What is he thinking? 
Perhaps this: there is David, a young boy with a glint in his eyes. Morning breeze plays with his curls. It breathes words of hope and promise in his ear. 
Yet unscarred by battle, his skin is smooth. His muscles are flexible, his hands strong. They are large, larger than you would expect for such a slender body. They are the hands of a killer.
There is David. Narrowing his eyes to focus them at the enemy, the boy is searching for a way to change, to become that which is not: larger than life. There he stands, ready for the kill. 
I smile at Saul. He is slow to smile back.”

Needless to say, this detailed description is inspired by Michelangelo's David. The book in inspired, in many of its scenes, by the way artists--throughout the history of art--depicted the story of David at all its amazing twists and turns.

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and make them brilliantly fresh"

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Come home to 'HOME' and discover yourself

Jaspreet Mann Kanwar is a poet and a story teller. She is the author of The Road in the Sky (and other books.) I am thrilled to find her review of my poetry book, Home:

5.0 out of 5 stars Come home to 'HOME' and discover yourself !February 19, 2014
This review is from: Home (Kindle Edition)
"I am water I am fire
I am poem, I inspire
I am silence, sound, a pen stroke
I am blue, a twist of smoke."
Zeev Kachel

When I openedUvi Poznansky's 'Home', I took a deep breath and murmured, 'Oh God, please let this be poetry!' and voila ! It indeed was ! This deeply moving poetry book is a glowing tribute to her father. It includes some heart touching poetry and prose, as well as translated poems written by her father Zeev Kachel. As the title suggests it is a journey that takes you inside shadows lurking somewhere in the deep domains of 'Home'. The collection is a beautifully crafted metaphorical tale about the inhabitants of that home, who display great stoicism during misfortune, often finding solace in poetry. There is a mysterious atmosphere as you delve deeper into a world of darkness and pain, wrought with silence and solace. When she says, 'Here, at last, is my father", one can sense the intensity of emotion in that seemingly simple sentence,it shakes you and leaves you at the brink of a personal memory of irreversible loss. This incredible book touched my soul.
"Don't open your eyes
Try not to see
Things are no longer
Where things ought to be..." Need I say more? An exceptionally crafted book by an amazing writer.

Sibling Rivalry

A lovely review from a listener to the audiobook edition of A Favorite Son:

5.0 out of 5 stars Sibling RivalryFebruary 18, 2014
Amazon Verified Purchase
This was a lovely story written about a set of twins fighting for the birthright. Of course the one born first got it, and the second one spent his life jealous of it and finally tricked his brother out of it.

It was beautifully written and flowed so well. I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it. The narrator was great and did a wonderful job with the voices and narration.

Not with a rambling, but with a roar

I love interviewing the interviewer, so I invited Ashley Fontainne--the author of The Lie, Ramblings of a Mad Southern Womanand other books--to appear in my Guest corner this week. Here, you will find her interviewing me in her last show on The WriteStuff, a year ago today. We ended it not with a rambling, but with a roar! She brought me in for this special episode, to talk about Apart From LoveHome, my sculptures and paintings, the new possibilities of publishing in this new Indie era, and more. 

Come take a listen:

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Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Let evil recoil on those who slander me

I glance at the serrated edge of the rocks, which rise against the blueish black heavens, and doubt enters my heart. Ghostly shapes loom before me out of the yawning hole of darkness. I imagine them to be a swarm of scaly lizards, slumbering fitfully around the king’s camp. In a snap, they may pounce upon the intruders, upon us.
The feeling is so daunting that it brings me to my knees. 
“Hear my prayer, oh God,” I whisper. “Listen to me, listen to the my words. Strangers are attacking me. Ruthless men seek my life.”
I sense the eyes of my fighters upon me. Have they heard me? If so, what is the impact of my words? 
One by one they fall to their knees and press their hands together, which tells me one thing: there is a great power in prayer. I should use it more often. It works for me. It works better than any other skill I have used as an entertainer.
At the risk of having Saul detect where we are, I raise my voice, not only because my heart is hammering in me, it is bursting open—but also because my men must hear this, loud and clear. They must believe in our cause. 
So with great fervor I come to a blast, “Let evil recoil on those who slander me.” 
And my fighters echo me, word for word. “Let evil recoil on those who slander me.”

My reptilian paper sculpture

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