Wednesday, July 28, 2021

A wonderful tale from a superb author

Beautiful review for my WWII story, Marriage before Death, by Enrico 
Grafitti


Reviewed in the United States on July 28, 2021

‘Marriage before Death’ by Uvi Poznansky is an outstanding tale that, whilst sad and tragic, contains the kernel of a hopeful outcome. The author cleverly places the readers in an extremely emotional moment in the life of the protagonists, just when all seems to take an irrevocable turn for the worse. Then she whisks us off to an earlier time, during World War II, where we can read about the extraordinary circumstances that cemented this special relationship. Although this book is part of a series, it stands up as a story that can be read even if, like me, you have not read any of the previous novels.
The tale at the center of this story details an episode set in France during the war. It is a character-driven plot, related with intrigue and in a fast-paced style that will have readers turning pages as they are drawn into the events. The author not only creates some very convincing characters that carry her story forward, but also manages to imbue the pages with historic details and vivid description that easily place the reader in the scenes.
A wonderful tale from a superb author. Highly recommended.

Monday, July 26, 2021

We listened to this on our car trip and everyone was in agreement

LISTENER

Fun Grandma



 Intrigue 

Overall  
    
5 out of 5 stars
Performance  
    
5 out of 5 stars
Story  
    
5 out of 5 stars

Reviewed: 07-26-21


Captured and maintained our attention. We listened to this on our car trip and everyone was in agreement that the narrator has a great voice and did a good job with conveying different emotions and characters.
Story was well thought out and shared a very interesting view. Have been reading a few books about the electrical system in the USA being disrupted and the fallout. This book did not disappoint and definitely will look for more from this author.

Sunday, July 25, 2021

I dragged myself up, somehow, with Ed laden on my back, his arms slung limply over my shoulders, his blood oozing around my neck



Oh mon Dieu!” cried the nurse, as she came out to the top of the stairs under the massive portico. Gaping at me in astonishment, she clapped a hand over her head till the white cotton cap nearly flew off. Up to this moment she had been chatting, in quick, hushed tones, with a slender girl whose hair was covered. It was tucked into a red beret, which was tilted, a bit whimsically, over her forehead. 
Meanwhile I slogged laboriously toward the base of the stairs. Once there I stopped for a breath, then pricked up my ears—but unfortunately, I could barely catch a word. And even if I could, what I managed to remember of my high school French was such that I could barely make sense of it. 
At any other time I would have taken note of the elegant architecture of the Château de BĂ©nouville. After all, it was built in the style of Greek temples, with an intention to express grandeur. And of course I would have taken note of that girl. 
From afar all I noticed, besides a sketchy impression of her figure, was that she hugged the nurse and handed her something, some large bundle wrapped in burlap and tied, in a disorderly manner, several times over with a thick rope. Then she streaked across my path, mounted her bike, and took off, waving. 
A moment later, her farewell cry had faded into the distance. “Au Revoir...” 
Why I failed to catch sight of her face is a mystery to me now. Perhaps it was because of a ray of morning sun, which slanted at that moment into my eyes, or else—because of exhaustion. 
I hated having to wince, which made everything around me seem a bit warped. Determined not to limp, I could now advance almost without aching. But the burden I carried kept pressing me down, and the first steps up the stairs were the most difficult. Cold drops of sweat formed on my forehead. Some of them started running down my face and into my eyes, stinging them. 
I dragged myself up, somehow, with Ed laden on my back, his arms slung limply over my shoulders, his blood oozing around my neck. 




"The story of how they survived such horrors is extraordinary. Also extraordinary is the author's deep and gorgeous writing, interweaving desperation with descriptions of 'beautiful light streaming from high-arched, stained glass windows, rattling in the duel between the German artillery and ours.'
J.A. Schneider, author of suspense and psychological thrillers

Wednesday, July 21, 2021

Talking about a small fortune, what about your little trunk, full of gold coins?



“Talking about a small fortune,” she counters, “what about your little trunk, full of gold coins?”
“Being of a sound body and mind,” he says, “I spent it all.”
“On what, in heaven’s name?”
“What! On what, Becky? Here I go, heaping all those bracelets, all those nose rings on one woman, and one woman alone, only to find out, in the end, the real extent of her gratitude!”
“Isaac my dear, you know well enough how grateful I am—”
“Becky my dear,” he says, with a note of disdain. “What I know is this: Anyone else in my position would have at his disposal at least two or three legally registered wives, not to mention a respectably large harem, full of concubines—”
Being a practical woman, she decides to ignore that. “Fine, then,” she says. “So now, dear: How about giving me some means of transportation? The rich women, I hear, those in the cities along the coast, in Ashdod and also in Ashkelon, they have started to buy new automobiles. And I, I live here in the desert but still, Isaac, I come from nobility, you know, from one of the richest families in the land.”
“What kind of transportation?”
“A camel, for instance,” she says. “Two humps, or more, as well as a driver or two, or more. And four leather saddles, the soft kind, of course. It would be but a small token, a token of prestige—”
“For goodness sake,” he groans. “It’s a camel you’re talking about—not a Rolls Royce!”



★ Love literary fiction? Treat yourself to a gift 

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.
Jenn F. Garcia, Audible listener

Monday, July 19, 2021

Let evil recoil on those who slander me


To avoid being noticed, my spy must wait until nightfall to creep up there and take a look. 

At last, the sun is setting. He climbs up the hill and within minutes, I lose sight of him. 

The wait is long. I tremble as the chill intensifies. Saul has ample provisions of food, water, and warm clothing—but here in the wilderness, my men are cold and hungry. I am eager to sneak into their camp and wreak havoc on them, in revenge for all the hardship, all the misery we have been suffering lately.

Upon his return, the spy reports, “Good news! the king and his first in command, Abner son of Ner, are tired.”

“They are?” I ask. “How can you tell?”

“Saul starts yawning, and a second later, so does Abner. Any minute now, they’ll be fast asleep.”

“Where is Saul lying?”

“Up there, in the center of the camp, with his army around him.”

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 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.”

Then I stand up, and call two of them to my side: Ahimelek the Hittite and young Abishai.

I ask them, “Who’ll go down into the camp with me to Saul?”

“I’ll go with you,” says Abishai. 

He is Joav’s brother, one of my three nephews, sons of my sister, Zeruiah, who has a reputation in Bethlehem as a strong, formidable woman. All the other men I know are known by their father’s name. Not so here: Abishai is his mother’s son.

And so, guided by nothing more than faint starlight, the two of us climb up the rocks to the enemy, to find Saul. Let evil recoil on those who slander me.



Rise to Power

Audiobok US UK FR DE  iTunes

Paperback  Hardcover  Barnes&Noble



"In this unorthodox and thoroughly entertaining story, Uvi Poznansky tells the early story of the biblical David and his time in the service of King Saul. Told by David himself, in his own words, the story peels away the gloss and glory recorded by the historians who wrote the Bible and reveals the main characters in this saga as he saw them, with all their warts and wantonness."
Aurora Dawn, Audible reviewer

Ash is in the wrong place again

 LISTENER

Shelley



 Ash is in the wrong place again 

Overall  
    
5 out of 5 stars
Performance  
    
5 out of 5 stars
Story  
    
5 out of 5 stars

Reviewed: 05-25-21

I haven't listened to an audio book in quite awhile. Heather did a great job and really made the characters come alive. Uvi has written another story that kept me wondering what was going to happen next. I hope there is another book after this one.

Monday, July 5, 2021

Let’s get out of here, save our own skin!



 
Then, just as the driver starts revving the car, a hand appears in my window, knocking, slapping, tapping at it at a frantic pace. 

It’s that waitress again. Why has she followed me? What does she want? Have I forgotten something behind? 

For a moment, I think about that slice of sumptuous cheesecake that has been left behind on my plate. Seized by a sudden sense of craving, I wonder: has the waitress wrapped it up for me? Is she braving the elements just to hand it over? How gracious is that! Do I have enough money to tip her?

“Wait, don’t start,” I tell the driver. Then I lower the car window a bit, which lets in a wet whiff of wind 

She leans in, empty-handed. No cake, no nothing. Wrapped in a barely zipped yellow windbreaker with a drawstring hood that she’s neglected to fit over her head, she heaves a breath that makes the glass between us foggy.

Gasping, she says, “I must talk to you.”

And I say, “About what?”

“Him.”

“Who, him?”

“Your date.”

In an incredulous tone, I ask, “Dr. Patel, you mean?”

“Yes,” she says, struggling to catch her breath. “No, not him. His wife.”

“What about her?”

“She gave me something for you.”

I’m flabbergasted. “For me? How come? I never met Mrs. Patel—”

“Her name is Susan.”

“—And she doesn’t know me!”

The last thing I need is to establish a connection with a jealous wife. Actually, envy is the least of her problems, especially when compared to being dead. 

“Sorry,” I say. “I’m curious to learn more about Dr. Patel, especially about his professional life. Don’t ask me why. I have my reasons. But his wife? I want nothing whatsoever to do her!”

She huffs. “I don’t believe you.”

I insist, “What’s between them is not really my business.”

“It is, if you’re dating him!”

I’m at loss for a good comeback. 

Meanwhile, the waitress pulls something out of her pocket. It slips down her windbreaker and over her drenched apron. She bends over, snatches it off the ground, and raises it to me over the edge of the cracked-open window. 

Then, with a trembling lip, she says, “It’s yours now! I want nothing to do with all this trouble.”

I shake my head. “Keep it. Trouble is not what I need in my life, either.”

“Please,” says the waitress. Her voice is inundated with fear, which makes a shiver go down through me. “Take it!”

Is she out of her mind? Who is she to order me around? I have Ma for that!

I give a subtle hint to the driver to get us out of here and start closing my window, so as to block this woman out. “No, thank you,” I say. “You hold on to it, whatever it is.”

The waitress clutches the edge of the window so hard that her nails—chipped and painted red—nearly scratch through it. 

Just then comes the second flash of light. It outlines her shoulders, fizzes around her hair like a fiery halo as she stumbles forward towards me. This time, lightening is clearly what it’s not. 

She’s been shot at, she’s been hit. 

Her fingers loosen, letting something drop inside, some small object that misses my lap, rolls over, and lands somewhere underneath me on the car floor. 

Meanwhile her eye bulges over. It turns, turns, turns in its socket, until its iris seems to roll back around and over the eyeball, until her chest slips down along the sudden spill of blood upon the glass, until the terror finally lets go of her, leaving her wrung out by the wayside like an old dishrag. 

“Stop,” I tell the driver. “Let’s pick her up, take her to the hospital.”

“No way,” he says, stepping on the gas. “Let’s get out of here, save our own skin!”

In the back window, she looks like a mound of tatters crumpling into the night as the car jerks into motion. It maneuvers wildly left and right as we make our escape.'



Overdose

Paperback  Hardcover

Ash Suspense Thrillers Trilogy Audiobook


Months after recovering from coma, Ash discovers that the man who performed her brain surgery has a questionable medical experience and a dark past. Should she expose him, at the risk of becoming vulnerable to his revenge?


 "A fast suspense thriller, with intriguing romance added. After the first two books in the series ("Coma Confidential" and "Virtually Lace") kept me up, I was excited to get into this one, and it's the best yet with some surprising twists. Great series!"
B. Nelson, Audible listener

Thursday, July 1, 2021

A long time ago, I used to think that my youth was to blame for failing to understand my wives

 

A long time ago, I used to think that my youth was to blame for failing to understand my wives. No longer can I use that excuse, because I know all too well, there is no youth in me anymore. Which leaves me as baffled as ever, especially when it comes to the one woman I adore: Bathsheba. 

When I catch her scent, or even when I imagine it, something in me turns to liquid. Then, trying to harden my heart and remove her from my mind I find myself confused, and the rage in me intensifies, perhaps because I cannot remember the last time I have seen her. Alas, the distance between us seems to expand in so many ways with each passing year. 

So imagine my surprise this morning, when I wake up to the soft sound of her footfalls, which makes me turn my eyes to the wall to try, to catch sight of her reflection. There it is, moving fluidly across the blade, the wide, polished blade of Goliath’s sword which is hung in my chamber, right here over my head. 

First Bathsheba throws open the window, letting in a cold morning breeze. As if to tell me that this is already autumn, a smell of dry leaves wafts in. The silk curtains start swishing as they sway, they billow wildly around her, blotting and redrawing the curves of her silhouette, which in a blink, brings back to me the fullness of her figure back then, when she was expecting our first child. I remember the way I held her in my arms that hot summer evening, right there by that window. Together, we looked out at the last glimmer of the sun, sinking. 





"Told in Poznansky's distinctive style, the story is a lyrical delight, granting David a frank honesty the Old Testament never would have dared and interweaving brief passages of the original text with the author's eloquent, entrancing style. This is a David you won't find in the Bible and a kingdom that sometimes feels almost modern."
Aurora Dawn, Audible Reviewer