Uvi Poznansky's Blog, page 205

Very Moving and Touching Our Soul

Today I discovered two new reviews, and I am deeply touched by both of them. Oh what a wonderful magic, what a touch between souls happens when listening to poetry! This is what Clarissa and Sondra wrote for the audiobook edition of my poetry book, Home. 

5.0 out of 5 stars Touching Our Soul, May 20, 2014By Clarissa Simmens "Drabarni" (FL United States) - See all my reviews
(REAL NAME)   This review is from: Home (Audible Audio Edition) How can I possibly convey the feelings I have experienced while listening to “Home”? How does one speak about the universal emotions echoing in my heart, this luminous combination of autobiography and dialog between a man who has died and his surviving daughter? I do not know. I can quote passages, describe scenes and repeat what many have said so eloquently. Instead, I will talk about my first experience with an Audible. I won this in an event, with no review expected. I never liked Audibles, sensing that it would be like watching television, the voice detracting from the author’s intention or the reader’s imagination of what the character looks like, what the character sounds like. However, this mini epic of one family comes alive through words, emotions and a hypnotic voice. Its performance is reminiscent of the earliest poems, similar to, say, the poet Allen Ginsberg singing William Blake’s Songs of Innocence and Experience or the oral transmission of Beowulf enacted in drinking halls. Poznansky consistently demonstrates the yearning many of us share by using the magical metaphor of “life rewinded,” reflecting the theme in her father’s poetry. Whether in electronic, print, or audible form, the power of the words will touch our soul.
5.0 out of 5 stars Very moving, March 23, 2014By Sondra Ballanger - See all my reviewsThis review is from: Home (Kindle Edition)I got this as an audio book. I have listened to a few but Home was so good and relaxing it pulled me in as the narrator read it. This was the work partially of author and father. I loved all of the works. They were all deep and very moving. I fully intend to read more of the authors works.

Come with me to a Place in the Spotlight

I am deeply honored to be invited by my dear friend M. C. V. Egan, author of The Bridge of Deaths, for an interview on her blog, to talk about my novel, Rise to Power. These were her questions:What is your book about? What inspired you to write this particular series? Do you need visual media to describe people or places? What project(s) are you working on now?
As part of my answer for the third question I gave an excerpt from my novel, Rise to Power, as follows:



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.


To read the interview click here: 
A Place in the Spotlight

Clever retelling of ancient story

Lovely review for A Favorite Son:

4.0 out of 5 stars Clever retelling of ancient story, April 4, 2014By TucsonSusan (Tucson, AZ) - See all my reviewsVerified Purchase(What's this?)This review is from: A Favorite Son (Kindle Edition) A Favorite Son is a very clever retelling of the story of Jacob and Esau. The underlying story holds very strongly to the conflict of Jacob and Esau, the twin sons of Isaac and Rebecca as described in the book of Genesis. However, just as reading the Torah is a lot about reading between the lines and interpreting what is said, and not said, so, too, does A Favorite Son provide the "inside story" from the viewpoint of all the major characters in this tale. The story is set in modern times, with modern conveniences, such as the stiletto heels Rivkah wears, and the reference to a Rolls-Royce when she demands a quadruple-humped camel from Isaac. This is a tongue-in-cheek satire that also makes the reader think about the motivations of the characters in the story in the book of Genesis. The story of Jacob and Esau in Genesis is well - known: Jacob steals Esau's birthright by convincing the dying Isaac that he is Esau, Isaac's favorite, with help from his conniving mother Rebecca, whose favorite is Jacob. In this amusing re-telling, Jacob is Yankel (a Yiddish-ized version of Jacob), and he is a snide, lazy, whining, well, schmuck, but his parents and brother are no better. While the book is very funny, the underlying story of family dysfunction and the consequences of envy, favoritism, and deceit, as told in Genesis, is made even more obvious in this re-creation. I have read other attempts to re-tell Bible tales and have been sorely disappointed; and so approached this tale with a great deal of hesitation. I was pleasantly surprised to find this so well done. I would like to read more by this author.

Here is a woman who knows how to handle a man

With a lovely gesture Abigail points at the heaps of food. “Let this gift, which your servant has brought to my lord, be given to the men who follow you.”My hoodlums, who are literally drooling by now, start cheering. I silence them, just to hear some more of her voice.Abigail winks at them and smiles at me. “Please forgive your servant’s presumption. The Lord your God will certainly make a lasting dynasty for my lord, because you fight the Lord’s battles, and no wrongdoing will be found in you as long as you live.”“From your mouth to God’s ear,” I say.“Even though someone is pursuing you to take your life, the life of my lord will be bound securely in the bundle of the living by the Lord your God, but the lives of your enemies He will hurl away as from the pocket of a sling.”“Ah, you’ve heard what I did to Goliath—““Oh, I did! When the Lord has fulfilled for my lord every good thing he promised concerning him and has appointed him ruler over Israel, my lord won’t have on his conscience the staggering burden of needless bloodshed or of having avenged himself.”“Amen to that!” I cry. “I’d rather God do the bloodshed instead of me.”Then she bats her eyelashes. “And when the Lord your God has brought my lord success, remember your servant. Remember me, David…”She says all that, and more. There are so many words, so many fancy, flowery expressions! All of them are addressed to me in a highly complementary manner, with my lord and your servant punctuating each and every sentence. Before long, my mind becomes cluttered with all that verbiage. I thought I had a talent with words, but boy oh boy, does she exceed me! I am in awe! Like all Jewish women, her power comes from self sacrifice—but Abigail has perfected it through the use of flattery, which blows up the folly of her opponent to the point that he is completely in her hands. She reminds me of the stories I heard about my great-grandmother, Ruth, and the way she found her way—having immigrated to a harsh country such as Canaan—to marry a rich landowner, my great grandfather, Boaz. I bet that’s how Abigail married Nabal.The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and she knows it. She is a master at everything she does. I tell myself, here is a woman who knows how to handle a man. I let her handle me, if you know what I mean, for the duration of an entire evening. 
David in Rise to Power
Dávid és Abigél by Guido Reni
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"I am so enamored with the sensual style and delicious delivery
 that this review is a purely emotional response as I have just put it down. 
I feel like a devotee."

His hands go in, searching playfully for her feet, touching the creamy skin

"I imagine my father standing right here, in my place at the foot of the bed. I step back and in my mind, picture him taking a step forward, lifting the edge of the blanket, which is still settling over her. 
His hands go in, searching playfully for her feet, touching the creamy skin, fondling her toes, rolling each one of them ever so slightly between his fingers; which makes her arch her back, stretch out her arms, and twist her body around until she is turned over, on her back. She points her toes towards him with a cry of pleasure. 
Anita utters a groan as he applies gentle pressure to the soles of her feet, caresses the arches, the heels, the ankles. Her knees spread open and fall apart, until she takes control of herself and brings them together—only to have them spread open again.
I close my eyes because this way, I can see with greater clarity. The entire blanket is coming alive, folding and unfolding, stirring with their passionate tangle. From time to time the ripples rise to mark the line of his back, or the curve of her embrace."

Ben in Apart From Love


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 "A feast for the armchair psychologist. Reveals insights that can touch and frighten each of us"

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.
Tale a listen:


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"A tale of madmen and kings, youth and old age, prison cells and freedom's ring..."

AMAZING!!!

Short and sweet review for Apart From Love:

5.0 out of 5 stars AMAZING!!!, May 13, 2014By Amazon Customer - See all my reviewsVerified Purchase(What's this?)This review is from: Apart From Love (Kindle Edition) ok Not sure what I was getting when I started this book....I got a amazing and wonderfully Profound story of a family and all its conflicts...written in a unique and wonderful way. I quess I could say this story is about a dysfunctional family who both love and hate each other...Like all families...I have ever been around. (smile)...Thank you for a wonderful nights Reading Uvi Poznansky!!!
Please...BUY THIS BOOK!!! you will love it! So sorry I didnt get to it sooner. AWESOME!!!! Thank YOU!!!

Nothing in the king’s palace compares to this beauty

Writing about David as a fugitive, I asked myself, where would he hide in the wilderness? What would that place feel like? How would it look? How would the place reflect the mode he would find himself in, during this testing time of his life, when he is called a traitor?

And once I found that place in my imagination, the question became: how do I convey the mood in this place? How would the mood change from bitterness to hope? And as an author, how do I bring all of this to life, by painting images with words? How do I use the rhythms and pauses of David's inner reflection?

Not only do I talk to myself, but out of loneliness I answer back, too. I say, Forget Happily Ever After. Old legends are nothing but deceit. In reality, it is the political needs of the state, it is money and power that dictate royal family unions—not some emotion, a fickle, faithless emotion that is known to be fleeting.Bitterness is eating at me. I stagger into the darkest nook, deep down in my underground hiding place, and curl myself there, unable to stop seething at my misfortune, and most of all, at her. “Michal, perhaps I don’t deserve a fine, highly schooled princess such as you. All the same, thank you,” I hurl at her, forgetting for a moment that she is absent. “Thank you for the education, dear. I won’t forget it.”For a long while, maybe days, I stare at the ceiling of the cave, where a slow, mind numbing drizzle is heard, and where calcium salts, deposited by the drip of water, have been forming over innumerable centuries into what looks to me, at first, like icicles. Then something stirs in me, an awakening. All of a sudden I note the miracle of their stony, frozen trickle, and it takes my breath away. Nothing in the king’s palace compares to this beauty. Here is the process of creation, eternity flowing in a drop. If not for the hunger I could stay here, in this cave under the stalactites, till the end of time. I imagine that long before that, my bones would be unearthed here, and brought before the king. 
David in Rise to Power

My quick charcoal drawing was done to the sound of music. It is a landscape of music, if you will, which conveys the same awe expressed in the excerpt above: "Here is the process of creation, eternity flowing in a drop."

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

Like a kiss through a handkerchief

"Leaning her head against his broad shoulders, she would take in his smell, a mixture of shaving lotion and a trace of sweat, and think herself happy.But tonight she was lonely. Ethan was not there. Edna tried to imagine him coming close, even whispering some sweet nothings in her ear. She waited for the whisper to dissolve, then tried to force another one—but again, the voice was vacant. She rose to the tips of her toes, as if longing for a kiss. She could almost feel him. His embrace was tight, she nearly fainted—but there was no breath, no warmth in his lips. It was, to her, like a kiss through a handkerchief."

So starts a story in my book, Home. The character in this story is quite different from the other female characters. Edna confines herself to the four walls around her, and tries not to face her unhappiness. Here she is, passing through a corridor and capturing sight of herself, hanging there in the mirror:

"For a second, it looked like her older sister. Edna stuck her tongue out at her, thinking, oh well, those wrinkles are just a play of shadows, just shadows in the murky glass. She could make them disappear, simply by tipping her head backwards. She leaned over the cabinet for a closer look. The eyes looked somewhat blurry; so did her mouth. It seemed like a smudge, perhaps because the lipstick had been wiped, or else because she was too close.In her youth, she was so weak that she could easily fall for something, easily laugh for anything. But that other woman, on the other side, seemed as if she could easily cry for nothing. There, see? She rubbed the corner of her eye. So did Edna, thinking it was hard to know, anyway, if someone was crying or laughing. The features of the face contorted in much the same way. There were walls around her, on both sides of the mirror; walls waiting for something to happen, for anything really; waiting there with great patience—with stability—as if they were home. Edna looked away, unable to escape that feeling, the feeling that there was no motion, it was all an illusion; and that in reality, both she and her reflection were absent. She was lost and could not be found."
All this, of course, is just the opening. What would happen next? And why is this story called A Heartbeat, Reversed? Good questions... To be answered in my next blog post. Stay tuned...



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"the book overflows with some of the most eloquent poetic moments in print"

Love #audiobooks? Take a listen:

★ Love listening to a story? Check these out ★★ Rise to Power ★ Apart From Love ★ A Favorite Son ★ Home ★ Twisted ★