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In this unique collection, Uvi Poznansky brings together diverse tales, laden with shades of mystery. There are four of them: I Am What I Am; I, Woman; The Hollow; and The One Who Never Leaves. Here, you will come into a dark, strange world, a hyper-reality where nearly everything is firmly rooted in the familiar—except for some quirky detail that twists the yarn, and takes it for a spin in an unexpected direction.
This is the reality you will see a biblically inspired hell, through the eyes of a ghost of a woman trying to reclaim her name by appealing to the devil; the eyes of a clay figure of a woman, about to be fired in the kiln, longing for her Creator; the eyes of a woman in the midst of a free fall, about to become a ghost; and the eyes of a feline creature with cracked fangs, trying in vain to resign herself, by hook and by crook, to being locked. These characters explore their identity, and challenge their fate.
Inspired by her art, by quotes from literature and the bible, and by the author’s professional career, these tales come from different times and places. Yet all of them share one thing in common: an unusual mind, one that is twisted. So prepare yourself: keep the lights on.
Targeted Age Group: 13 and up
Genre: Dark Fantasy
No, I simply wrote it listening to my characters, and the idea to turn it into an audiobook came later…
Why did you decide to produce an audio book?
I knew it would be such a joy, listening to my quirky characters come to life through the voice of my brilliant narrator, Heather Jane Hogan.
Parting is such sweet sorrow… Once I clicked the “Approve audiobook” button, indicating that the project is completed, I felt this tinge of satisfaction mixed with sorrow. Do you know this feeling? Time to move on, this project is done…
How did you choose the reader for the book and the production company?
The narrator behind the voices of my new collection of dark tales is Heather Jane Hogan. I have already worked with her on narrating my novel, Apart From Love. She was such a natural, that no one can call her Anita a ‘performance’. Working with her was such joy! So I had to hear the lovely, intimate voice of Heather Jane Hogan again, this time for Twisted, where the challenge–and the fun–would be to find a different voice for each one of the four tales.
I find her self-deprecating humor quite touching. Here are a few things she says about herself:
“I sing in the car. Loudly. I’m that woman you see on the highway, belting out tunes as if she were on stage somewhere and blissfully unconcerned that other people on the highway can see me.”
“I love roller coasters. The more twisty-turny-upside-down-back-and-forth-hair-raising, the better.”
“In 1999, I went skydiving. I’ll never forget it. It wasn’t what I expected. I thought it would be exhilarating; that I would land and shout something like, “WOO HOO!!”… but… at least for me, it was more of an overwhelming experience. Afterwards, I just wanted to sit and contemplate my belly button.”
“In 2003 and 2004 I won the NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), hosted by http://www.nanowrimo.org. They host a challenge every year during the month of November for you to write a novel. It doesn’t have to be good, no one reads it for proof (the contest is honor-based) – but you have to write 50,000 words in one month (the definition of a novel). It’s a great and challenging exercise, even if you’re not a writer.”
What else would you like to share with readers about your audio book?
How about an excerpt:
He turns to me with a sly look. To my surprise, his smile—even with those sharp fangs—is quite endearing.
“Job’s wife, I presume? Hallelujah! I have been expecting for you for quite a long while,” says Satan. His voice is sweet. He must have sung in a choir in his youth, because in some ways he sounds as pious as my husband. “Shame, shame, shame on you,” he wags his finger. “You sure made me wait, didn’t you…”
And without allowing time for an answer, he brings a magnifying glass to his bloodshot eye. Enlarged, his pupil is clearly horizontal and slit-shaped.
Which makes me feel quite at home with him, because so are the pupils of the goats in the herds we used to own.
Meanwhile, Satan unfolds a piece of paper and runs his finger through some names listed there. Then, with a gleam of satisfaction he marks a checkbox there, right in the middle of the crinkled page. At once, a whiff of smoke whirls in the air.
Satan blows off a few specks of charred paper, folds the thing and tucks it into his breast pocket, somewhere in his wool. Cashmere, I ask myself? Really? In this heat?
Back home, when I would count my gold coins, this was something I craved with a passion… It would keep me warm during the long winter nights…
Then, without even bothering to look at me, Satan says, “I swear, madam, you look lovely tonight.”
For a moment I am grateful that my husband is among the living. Or so I think. Nowadays, influenced by the elders, he regards swearing as a mortal sin, as bad as cursing. He even plugs his ears, for no better reason than to avoid hearing it. But if you ask me, I swear: without a bit of blasphemy, language would utterly dull, and fit for nothing but endless prayer. Sigh.
Strangely, Satan does not frighten me that much anymore. And so, swaying on my hip bones, I strut out of the cave in his direction. I feel an odd urge to fondle his horns. Along the path toward him I make sure to suck in my belly, because in the company of a gentleman, even a corpse is entitled to look her best.
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