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Zusatztext “A deftly told narrative of finding one’s adult self.”— Entertainment Weekly “[Ann] Brashares nimbly ages her characters! nicely capturing late- twentysomething concerns about marriage! motherhood! and careers as well as love’s enduring power.”— Booklist “Poignant . . . Brashares’s literary response will satisfy readers longing for ‘just one more’ story about their favorite fictional friends.”—Bookreporter.com “Brashares expertly taps into the difficulties of carrying childhood friendship into the trials of adulthood.” —Library Journal “Touching . . . resonant with female friendship.” —The Washington Post Informationen zum Autor Ann Brashares Klappentext NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER Four friends One sisterhood Ten years later! the story continuesOn the cusp of turning thirty! Tibby! Lena! Carmen! and Bridget are now living separate lives! out on their own. Yet despite having jobs and men that they love! each knows that something is missing: the closeness that once sustained them. Carmen is a successful actress in New York! engaged to be married! but misses her friends. Lena finds solace in her art! teaching in Rhode Island! but still thinks of Kostos and the road she didn't take. Bridget lives with her longtime boyfriend! Eric! in San Francisco! and though a part of her wants to settle down! a bigger part can't seem to shed her old restlessness. Then Tibby reaches out to bridge the distance! sending the others plane tickets for a reunion that they all breathlessly await. And indeed! it will change their lives forever-but in ways that none of them could ever have expected. Look for special features inside. Join the Circle for author chats and more. Leseprobe Once, when she was thirteen, Carmen remembered turning to Tibby with her CosmoGirl magazine in one hand and her eye pencil in the other and declaring that she could never, ever get sick of doing makeovers. Well, it turned out she could. Sitting in the makeup chair in early October in a trailer parked on the corner of Bleecker Street and the Bowery in the East Village of Manhattan, getting her hair blown out for the seven millionth time by a girl named Rita and the foundation sponged onto her face for the eight millionth time by a girl named Genevieve, Carmen knew it was just another mile on the hedonic treadmill. You could get sick of anything. It was true. She’d read an article in Time magazine about it. “You could even get sick of chocolate,” she’d told her mother on the phone the night before. Her mother had made a doubting sound. “That’s what I read, anyway.” Being an actress on a TV show, even a moderately good and successful TV show, involved a few minutes of acting for every few hours you spent in the makeup chair. And even when you were done with the makeup—temporarily, of course; you were never done with the makeup—there was still a whole lot of sitting around drinking lattes. That was the dirty secret of the entertainment industry: it was boring. Granted, Carmen didn’t have the biggest part in the show. She was Special Investigator Lara Brennan on Criminal Court. She showed up at least briefly at a crime scene in almost every episode and sometimes got to appear as a witness on the stand. “Eyes up,” Genevieve said, coming in with a mascara wand. It was rare that Carmen needed a prompt. She knew exactly which way to turn her eyes for each portion of the mascara application. If she didn’t stay ahead of it, Carmen feared she’d end up like one of the many dolls she’d mangled as a child with her constant brutal efforts at grooming. Carmen studied her hair in the mirror. She’d never thought she’d get sick of that either. She squinted down the highlights. They were a little brassy, a little bright this time. She would have liked to go darker, but the director wanted her light. ...
