Uvi Poznansky's Blog, page 2
August 15, 2025
Review (Apart from War): A beautiful story of love and war
Susan Keene is a mystery writer whose work I admire.In her past, she faced the choice:. she would either quit her job or she would wrap her girls in bubble wrap to keep them safe. She quit and began to write. When she finished, which took years, she had written Tattered Wings.
I am honored that she read my WWII trilogy, Apart from War, and posted this review:
Susan Keene5.0 out of 5 stars A beatiful story of love and warReviewed in the United States on August 14, 2025
I was gifted the audio book I was hooked from the start. It is a beautiful love story between Linny, a young American soldier, and Natasha, a young concert pianoist.This story will take you through their lives and WWII. The descriptions of the way things were done during the conflict are realisic, the characters are people you form a bond with as the story progresses.
Linny knew he was enchanted with Natasha the first time he saw her. Their lives go in different directions as they pursue different goals but they always find one another again.
They have a love that will take them through their lives even when Nataha's worst fear is realized.
August 14, 2025
Paper flowers: the unabashed erotic suggestion
I love the color, the unabashed erotic suggestion of Hibiscus flowers. I had great fun creating these out of crepe paper.
August 8, 2025
Review (Apart from War): For the lover of wartime history and struggles
LISTENERZoe J
Apart from WarBy: Uvi PoznanskyNarrated by: Virtual VoiceFor the lover of wartime history and struggles
Overall 5 out of 5 starsPerformance 5 out of 5 starsStory 5 out of 5 stars
Reviewed: 08-08-25
Uvi Pozanansky paints vivid scenes of love, tragedy, and heartbreak in broad strokes across the pages of the three books in this trilogy. I count myself fortunate to have had the time to listen to the audio version of "Apart from War" as the details became alive in the telling. Yes, it is a long audio, but so worth the time to invest in one couple's journey through love to heartache during their wartime experience. Our author obviously spent hours researching her subject before putting pen to paper and finally turning the completed work over to narration.The end product needs to be given a careful listen to gain the best perspective of life at that time. I wholeheartedly recommend this audio version of her three books to the wartime history enthusiast with romance in the heart.
July 31, 2025
Things staying as they are will only prolong my misery
If anyone would ask me later why I threw a match into a wastebasket full of tissues, added a pile of the papers I was supposed to be organizing, and left it behind a closed door, burning, I would be hard pressed to explain my plan. Why? Because I have none. Impulse is what drives me. The events of the last couple of days have forced my hand. I can no longer remain inactive.
By instinct, I grasp that something drastic needs to happen—for better or worse—to change my situation. Fire will do. Things staying as they are will only prolong my misery.
The celebration has just gotten underway in the main space. Hearing the hoots and the chest beating, I sneak out of the back room to watch the gang up-close.
Colorful confetti—leftover from the out-of-business party store that used to rent this space—is being tossed all around. Vlad himself is blasting out one party popper after another with unbridled delight.
His men, too, are in a festive mood. A bit tipsy already, they crowd around the long table, now covered by a paper tablecloth. Mrs. Komarov stands at the head of the table, ladling cold Russian soup from a large plastic container into plastic bowls for all of them. From here, it smells a bit like sour milk.
“Thank you, thank you!” says the first in line, having gulped it down hungrily. “What a delicious Okroshka, with boiled potatoes and raw radishes and cucumbers. Just like my mother used to make.”
She gloats ever the compliment. “More food yet to come,” she says, with a matronly smile.
Some of the men set crates of beer at Vlad’s feet, others—pour drinks over his head. The anointment is rowdy, but Vlad seems to bask in it.
I notice that the main door has been unlatched, perhaps to bring in the food. This is my chance to flee—if not for Mrs. Komarov. She is the first to notice that I’ve slipped out of the back room.
“Why are you here?” she demands, gruffly. “Did I not tell you to stay put? Your job is to figure out how I can shake the damn insurance companies off my back—”
“Ah, stop it, Mamushka,” says Vlad. His British accent makes that single Russian word sound out of place.
“No,” she counters, shaking the ladle in his face. “You stop!”
He claps a hand around my waist and pulls me to his chest. His mouth reeks of cheap beer. “Let her join us! What’s a party without a beautiful woman?”
Her face reddens. She grabs my arm angrily and wrenches me from his hold.
Her eyes blazing, she tells him, “Zacroy rot!”
“Shut up? Me?” Vlad gnashes his teeth. “How can you even say that—especially now, when everyone here celebrates my success? Don’t you see, I am on top of the world?”
Mrs. Komarov gnashes her teeth, way louder than he did. If this were a competition, she would get the gold. “Without me, you will hit rock bottom before you know it. So, pay respect. Do not dare cut in when I am talking. And I mean, ever!”
He wipes off beads of sweat from his brow. “Forgive me, Mamushka.”
At this point, the old woman does something I haven’t expected of her. Shooting a victorious glare at him, she sets away the ladle and opens her arms. He submits to her hug.
Then she turns to me. “And you—do I have to repeat myself? Why did you not stay put, like I told you?”
Her bullet grazed his head, but the leader of a Russian crime organization is still breathing. One way for Vlad to avoid paying the price for his crimes is to play dead; another is to play dying. For Ash, this is not a game. She must learn his secrets. Only one problem: because of the raging pandemic, she must put her plan on hold.
Vlad slips away from the hospital in a body bag, then develops a brazen fraud scheme that will bilk health insurance companies out of millions of dollars. If not caught in time, he will drive victims to suicide, rob Ash of her identity, and slit her throat.
Will Ash manage to stay one step ahead of him and at the same time, protect her loved ones from contagion?
July 23, 2025
Review (Apart from War): 1940s Noir Love Story
LISTENERThe Hollow Man Series
Apart from WarBy: Uvi PoznanskyNarrated by: Virtual Voice1940s Noir Love Story Overall 5 out of 5 stars
Performance 5 out of 5 stars
Story 5 out of 5 stars
Reviewed: 07-23-25
A heartfelt, personal love story that is set against a background of World War II.
July 19, 2025
You may tell me to get my head examined—which I already did—but the last thing I need is his alarm over a missed hit
I bet Michael is biting his nails as he awaits my arrival.
On my way to him, I call 911 to report the shooting. I ask them, while trying to overcome the slight tremble in my voice, to send paramedics. I hope the victim can still be revived. I wonder about her, wonder if she has any rivals, any enemies, anyone with ill wishes, because to me she seemed like a meek, ordinary woman, with little drama in her life—but then again, who knows? I feel dizzy. My head is spinning because of what has just happened—but despite the late hour and the chill in my bones, I get out of the Uber car at the corner of Cliff Drive and walk home the rest of the way. Why? Because I don’t want my boyfriend to spot the spill of blood outside the passenger window, or the glass fractures in the rear one, all around that bullet hole. You may tell me to get my head examined—which I already did—but the last thing I need is his alarm over a missed hit. The important word here is missed, right? So, no need to lose sleep over it. After all, I’m safe and sound. Well, safe. Not quite sure about the sound part.
★ Love Suspense? Prepare to be thrilled ★
Ash Suspense Thrillers: Trilogy
The nail-biting suspense, richly drawn characters, and dark psychological plots will keep you on the edge of your seat as you read every mystery, hoping the heroine will discover the culprits before it’s too late. ~Kindred Spirit, Audible listener
July 16, 2025
The unofficial version, the one he never allowed his court scribes to recount.
My books are about the story of David in a way you have never heard it before: from the king himself, telling the unofficial version, the one he never allowed his court scribes to recount. In his mind, history is written to praise the victorious—but at the last stretch of his illustrious life, he feels an irresistible urge to tell the truth.
The series includes three novels about the youth, prime of life, and old age of the king. Rise to Power is an account of David’s early years, leading up to his first coronation. How does he see himself, during this first phase of his life? With his hands stained with blood, can he find an inner balance between conflicting drives? This is followed by A Peek at Bathsheba, the most torrid tale of passion ever told: David's forbidden love for Bathsheba, and his attempt to cover up the scandal. Finally, The Edge of Revolt tells the story of a father’s love for the son who betrays him. The last thing he expects is that he will topple him from the throne. Who among them will remain by his side? Who will be not only loyal, but also eager to continue his legacy?
In addition, the series includes six collections of art by the masters around the story of David.
What inspired you to write about David?I am fascinated by the complexity of this character. At many points along the way he finds himself at a crossroad, torn between his political ambitions and the divine call of his inspired work, as a poet and musician. At the same time, I found myself intrigued by the role of history in this story. David sees the struggle between himself and the king he succeeded as a struggle between two contending versions of history. An excerpt demonstrates this struggle:
What is at stake here is the virtue of the office, the sanctity of the crown, which I tried to preserve most of the time—but certainly not always… My appetite for sin would get out of control, and threaten to undermine my best efforts to establish myself, establish my glory for all to cherish. Even so, future generations must revere my name.
Hell, I made sure of that.
At the time I gave orders to imprison quite a few of my court historians, for no better reason than a misspelling, or a chance error in judgement, for which they tried to apologize profusely. Of course, to no avail. They never saw the light of day again. I knew I was right, because who are they to strive for something as misleading as reporting the bare facts?
Both Saul and I were anointed to rule the nation, which without fail caused a civil war. We fought over something larger than the crown. Ours was a battle between two contending versions of history. The outcome would decide who would be called a hero and who—a villain.
And having won that struggle, I was not about to allow the scribes in my court to report any faults in me, any wrongdoings. My record would be clean. There was, I decided, no truth other than mine.
How has art inspired your work?
The story of David has inspired artists throughout the history of art, and my writing has a lot of highly visual references to many of these art pieces. Here, for example, is a reference to Michelangelo’s David:
“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.”
And here, a reference to Bernini’s David:
I must have lost my mind, because I leap over the brook and run quickly towards him. And I put my hand in my bag and take out one of my pebbles and sling it.
It is now that time starts slowing down. With sharp, heightened senses I feel the morning breeze playing with my curls, brushing them this way and that, down to the nape of my neck. Here I am, twisting over my legs, wringing my body in a tortuous effort to gather momentum, to let a pebble fly. This, I tell myself, is no dream. This is for real. I am aiming to slay a giant.
If I live, someone should sculpt me in this pose, just so.
I am often inspired by the art when writing a specific scene. For example, the execution of Amnon, as orchestrated by his brother, Absalom, is imagined here by his father, David:
This was no murder. There is no other name for it but execution.
I stare at the darkness of the palms of my hands and at once, images of that feast—for lack of a better term—light up in my mind. I hear every sound in that place, and take in every smell, as if I have witnessed the entire affair myself, as if I own the senses of the killer and of the victim at once, as if I am possessed by them, because they are, both of them, my own flesh and blood.
I shudder to see so many daggers drawn out of metal holsters. Their harsh grating noise penetrates me. A gasp, a last gurgle of surprise escapes from Amnon’s throat, as many hands grip him, and twist his arms forcefully behind his back.
The bleating of sheep is heard faintly in the background as blades rise, flashing in the air. Then they plunge upon his throat, clinking against each other, and the first of them slashes the vein.
His bloodied corpse is thrown, like leftover meat, by the side of the bench where he has sat. Overhead, birds of prey start hovering. Flies are buzzing, buzzing all around, sensing the sweet taste of blood, which is spurting from his neck.
His eyes turn. They go on turning in their sockets, nearly flipping over in an unnatural way, as if to see the man standing directly behind him. Absalom. There, there he is, striking a victorious pose: legs wide apart, arms crossed, giving him what he has wanted: a nod, a final nod of recognition.
Oh, my son, Absalom.
How much of your writing would be considered history versus fiction? How heavily did you rely upon Biblical accounts?
Studying the biblical story in the original language, rather than in translation, made the story very direct for me. In Hebrew there are no ‘versions’ of the bible--there is the one and only text where every sentence, every word is the same across all illuminated manuscripts and printed books. Translations are interpretations, but growing up in Israel, what I studied is the original.
Volume I:
Volume II:
Volume III:
Volume IV:
Inspired by Art: Fighting Goliath
Volume V:
Inspired by Art: Fall of a Giant
Volume VI:
Inspired by Art: Rise to Power
Volume VII:
Inspired by Art: A Peek at Bathsheba
Volume VIII:
Inspired by Art: The Edge of Revolt
Volume IX:
July 13, 2025
Review (Apart for War): APART to A Part
LISTENER
Apple Girl
Apart from WarBy: Uvi PoznanskyNarrated by: Virtual VoiceAPART to A Part Overall 5 out of 5 stars
Performance 5 out of 5 stars
Story 5 out of 5 stars
Reviewed: 07-10-25
IIt’s not unusual to find fiction that authentically portrays historical eras. And it’s not unusual to read artistically written romances. However, to find both of these strengths entwined into one novel is rare! This book entices the reader with a romance that spans decades into the final hours of the characters. Along with this journey, the author probes into the details of World War II espionage and into the long-term psychological and personal impacts that the people experienced. Listening to APART FROM WAR made me feel as if I were a part of war.
July 10, 2025
Review (Inspired by art: A Peek at Bathsheba) Marvelous
Love this review, written by prolific author Marta Moran Bishop, for my art collection book, Inspired by Art: A Peek at Bathsheba:
M. M. Bishop5.0 out of 5 stars MARVELOUSReviewed in the United States on June 30, 2025
Format: KindleVerified PurchaseMs. Poznansky never ceases to amaze me. Her book Inspired by Art: A Peek at Bathsheba, with its marvelous masterpieces of Art inspired by Bathsheba, with small verses from the Bible that inspired the art included, is wonderful.It gave me the ability to see works of art that I didn’t know existed, along with some old favorites, and put them in context with the love story of David & Bathsheba.
July 8, 2025
I was in chains—but at least for the moment, I was free
Searing the air were screams of those trapped in the armored cars ahead of us. Our vehicle, the eighth one in the convoy, had not suffered a direct hit. But sparks from the seventh vehicle were shooting every which way, arching overhead, causing havoc. There was not a moment to lose. In panic, the two SS guards threw open the burning flap of canvas that covered the back of our truck. And in a flash, they jumped off.
From the back of the truck, our captors barked at us to come, to follow them through that opening, the edges of which were already smoldering.
“Schnell,” they shouted, as if we were some circus animals that had to be threatened into leaping.
Not wishing to place myself back into their hands, I decided to take my chances and try escaping the fire my own way. Up to this moment I had felt weak, helpless, dejected—but now I discovered a way, a rogue way to get out.
In the front corner of the cargo area, there was a slash in the canvas, which I had noticed yesterday, at the outset of the journey. Summoning strength I did not know I possessed, I ripped it completely apart. Immediately, the prisoners lined up to slip through the tear and get off.
Once outside, we crawled away from the eight-wheeler and from our captors, who started to circle around it in search of us. One of them spotted the boy and charged in his direction.
By some stroke of luck, the SS guard tripped over a dead body, which allowed me just enough time to scramble to my feet and grab the boy by his arm. We dove into the bushes.
All around us, the air reeked of ash. We choked the urge to cough. Fearful that the foliage might catch fire, we rolled down the slope, away from the burning vehicles. All the while we hoped that the clinking of our chains, which might disclose our position, would be swallowed by the roar of the flames.
Thankfully, with each motion forward on our knees and hands, the cloud of smoke was thinning out, till at last we could stop guessing our way.
In an instant, the truck that had carried us became engulfed in flames, as did other vehicles. We took cover behind some rocks, just as sheets of fire spread across the road. The blaze was a magnificent sight. I could not begin to describe the sensation in my heart, the unexpected relief.
I was in chains—but at least for the moment, I was free.
After D-Day, her photograph appears on the most-wanted Nazi propaganda posters. Who is the girl with the red beret? She reminds him of Natasha, but no, that cannot be. Why does Rochelle step into his life when he is led by SS soldiers to the gallows? At the risk of being found out as a French Resistance fighter, what makes her propose marriage to a condemned man?
★★★★★ ”The story of how they survived such horrors is extraordinary. Also extraordinary is the author's deep and gorgeous writing.”
