The Edge of Revolt

[Uvi]

Glenda A Bixler is an excellent book reviewer, and her reviews of Rise to Power and of A Peek at Bathsheba (the first two volumes in the trilogy) are thought provokingh. But she has outdone herself in her latest review, the one for the last volume, The Edge of Revolt. Not only did she include David's psalms in her essay and not only did she open with an excerpt but she used the book's name in a twist I did not see coming, a twist that is amazingly appropriate for our times.

This is how she opened her piece: As soon as I had reviewed three of the Inspired by Art books in this series, the last of which complemented this book, I knew I wanted to read the novels. As with the Art book, I found the third book, The Edge of Revolt, the most provocative and filled with new information...for me... I admit that somehow I had missed the impact of what happened to David in his later life...and to his children...

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The final book in the David Chronicles. A reader's response

[Uvi]

It must have rained earlier that day, because the soil is soft. It gives way under the hooves of my stallion. Sloshing around that oak tree I come to realize what it is, hanging down from its highest branch: a shred of Tamar’s garment, her coat of many colors. The fabric is aglow in the evening sun, releasing every reflection, every hue of the rainbow, up to the border of a large, irregular stain of browned blood--

To read more, and listen to the beautiful narration by Bob Sterry, click here:
https://uviart.blogspot.fr/2018/01/su...

[Uvi]

I can block loud talk, but whispers have a way of penetrating me. I wish I could forget words. I do not want to hear what happened. Let someone else listen. Let someone else write about it--

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Whispers have a way of penetrating me

[Uvi]

One summer evening, thick smoke spreads across the city, as if it were under attack. A blaze leaps across one valley, then another. One structure after another bursts into flames. One field after another melts into liquid gold. Sparks shoot out every which way. From my chamber window you can barely see the horizon, where the hills of Jerusalem meet the sky, because the blue in them swirls around in the air, marred with charcoal gray. Nor can you detect where the fire may have started.
I summon my first in command, so he may call the troops, if he has not yet done so, and organize them into teams, to douse the flames with water, and to rescue the miserable souls caught in them.
Joav comes before me, fuming. His mustache is filled with gray particles that come flying out when he speaks.
“It’s all under control,” he says, even before I have a chance to ask anything--

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Where did the fire start?

[Uvi]

Just this morning I woke up to a surprise: Bathsheba slipped into my bed, wearing a soft, silky robe that glided, ever so smoothly, off her shoulders. I knew she was in a playful mood—if you know what I mean—because of her sudden cravings.
“Strengthen me with raisins,” she murmured in my ear. “Refresh me with apples, for I am faint with love--”

To read more, and listen to the beautiful narration by Bob Sterry, click here:
Refresh me with apples, for I am faint with love

[Uvi]

One day my daughter, Tamar, will stop listening to the dictates of those who wished to hush her. She will no longer obey the words, ‘Shut up,’ which she must still be hearing in her mind, in the voice of Amnon, who raped her. Nor will she obey the words, “Be silent for now,” in the voice of Absalom, who sought to protect her.
The real shame—now I know—is to consent to silence. A day will come when she will transform her suffering into meaning, into words--

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The real shame—now I know—is to consent to silence