书名：We Were Liars说谎的人/我们都是撒谎者

难度：Lexile蓝思阅读指数600L

作者：E. Lockhart

出版社名称：Ember

出版时间：2018

语种：英文 

ISBN：9780385741279

商品尺寸：14 x 2.1 x 21 cm

包装：平装

页数：320

现代版《呼啸山庄》。跨越百年，经典再现。

本书We Were Liars《说谎的人/我们都是撒谎者》主要讲述了十五岁的少女卡登丝缺失了第十五个夏天记忆后，与小伙伴之间伤感惋惜的故事。 这是一场“说谎者”的游戏，是推开成人世界之门的一声叹息！媒体评论：“洛克哈特创作了一个神秘故事，结尾出乎大部分读者的意料，太可怕了，会让一些读者马上回到第1页，纳闷自己先前怎么没有留意。故事主要讲述一个女孩以艰难的方式领悟到了家庭意味着什么，失去在意的人意味着什么。”——《出版家周刊》 “小说令人惊奇、情节紧张，行文优美简洁、精确如诗，洛克哈特撰写了一出家庭悲剧，根源回溯到好几代前。结尾？嘘。不能说……做好准备。”——《书单》 “洛克哈特的青少年小说总是非常出色，这本也不例外……我们瞥见了特权阶层的生活，这种生活方式我们大部分人只能想象，富有洞察力，激动人心。”——《浪漫时潮书评》 “这本书像一块玻璃一样闪亮，然后留下尖利的伤口。作者用这本精彩纷呈、黑暗迷人的书超越了自己，它描述了过分的财富如何让一个家庭毁灭破碎。描写详尽，充满犀利的智慧，这个有关卡登丝·辛克莱·伊斯门的故事给读者以灵感，又会让读者在接下来的岁月心有余悸。”——foreveryoungadult.comA New York Times BestsellerOne of James Patterson’s “Favorite Thrillers for the Beach” (New York Times)A beautiful and distinguished family. A private island. A brilliant, damaged girl; a passionate, political boy. A group of four friends—the Liars—whose friendship turns destructive. A revolution. An accident. A secret. Lies upon lies. True love. The truth.   We Were Liars is a modern, sophisticated suspense novel from New York Times bestselling author, National Book Award finalist, and Printz Award honoree E. Lockhart. Read it. And if anyone asks you how it ends, just LIE. Review"You're going to want to remember the title. Liars details the summers of a girl who harbors a dark secret, and delivers a satisfying, but shocking twist ending." --Breia Brissey, Entertainment Weekly "Thrilling, beautiful, and blisteringly smart, We Were Liars is utterly unforgettable." --John Green, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Fault in Our Stars "Surprising, thrilling, and beautifully executed in spare, precise, and lyrical prose, Lockhart spins a tragic family drama, the roots of which go back generations. And the ending? Shhhh. Not telling. (But it's a doozy)...This is poised to be big." --Booklist, starred review "Riveting, brutal and beautifully told." --Kirkus "The ending is a stunner that will haunt readers for a long time to come." --School Library Journal "A taut psychological mystery marked by an air of uneasy disorientation...The ultimate reveal is shocking both for its tragedy and for the how-could-I-have-not-suspected-that? feeling it leaves us with. But we didn't, which is Lockhart's commendable triumph." --The Horn Book "This is a love story as much as it is a psychological mystery...Astonishing." --Shelf Awareness "[a] haunting, sophisticated mystery...a novel so twisty and well-told that it will appeal to older readers as well as to adolescents." --The Wall Street Journal "Irresistible premise for this ticking time bomb of a novel." --The New York Times Book Review

十五岁的少女卡登丝是辛克莱家族的继承者，这是一个世代富足的家庭，她的外公拥有一座私人小岛。每年夏天，大家族的亲人们都会齐聚在这座小岛上。卡登丝与表弟约翰尼、表妹米伦，以及朋友盖特从八岁开始几乎每一个夏天都在这里开心地度过。

然而，突然有一天，卡登丝发觉自己陷入了选择性失忆和偏头痛中难以自拔。记忆中缺失的第十五个夏天究竟发生了什么？让一家人都对她三缄其口，让三个亲密无间的小伙伴与她失了联系？ 她试图拼凑起发生的一切。第十五个夏天一点点清晰，却发现小伙伴们正在远离…… 这是一个令人伤感惋惜的故事，同时也是单纯阳光的少年们推开成人世界之门的一声叹息。

E.洛克哈特（E. Lockhart），哥伦比亚大学文学博士，现于哈姆莱大学教授创意写作。E.洛克哈特是她的笔名，洛克哈特是母亲家的姓氏。洛克哈特在坎布里奇和西雅图长大，高中时她在西北大学参加暑假戏剧表演学校，并为明尼波利斯的儿童戏剧公司工作。之后她在瓦萨学院学习绘本创作，毕业于哥伦比亚大学。目前她住在纽约地区。

洛克哈特创作了一系列畅销小说，包括《我们都是撒谎者》、《吉玛拉玛》、《窥探者》、鲁比·奥利弗四部曲等。她还以艾米丽·詹金斯的本名创作了《看不见的暗示》系列以及许多获奖绘本。她的小说《弗兰基·兰道·班克斯声名狼藉的历史》曾获得Michael L. Printz奖荣誉图书大奖、Cybils青春小说奖，并且入围美国国家图书奖决选。 E. Lockhart is the author of the highly acclaimed New York Times bestseller We Were Liars and the Ruby Oliver quartet (The Boyfriend List, The Boy Book, The Treasure Map of Boys, and Real Live Boyfriends), as well as Fly on the Wall, Dramarama, and How to Be Bad (the last with Sarah Mlynowski and Lauren Myracle). Her novel The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks was a Michael L. Printz Award Honor Book, a finalist for the National Book Award, and winner of a Cybils Award for Best Young Adult Novel. She lives in Brooklyn, New York.

My story starts before the accident. June of the summer I was fifteen, my father ran off with some woman he loved more than us.

Dad was a middling-successful professor of military history. Back then I adored him. He wore tweed jackets. He was gaunt. He drank milky tea. He was fond of board games and let me win, fond of boats and taught me to kayak, fond of bicycles, books, and art museums. He was never fond of dogs, and it was a sign of how much he loved my mother that he let our golden retrievers sleep on the sofas and walked them three miles every morning. He was never fond of my grandparents, either, and it was a sign of how much he loved both me and Mummy that he spent every summer in Windemere House on Beechwood Island, writing articles on wars fought long ago and putting on a smile for the relatives at every meal. That June, summer fifteen, Dad announced he was leaving and departed two days later. He told my mother he wasn't a Sinclair, and couldn't try to be one, any longer. He couldn't smile, couldn't lie, couldn't be part of that beautiful family in those beautiful houses.  Couldn't. Couldn't. Wouldn't. He had hired moving vans already. He'd rented a house, too. My father put a last suitcase into the backseat of the Mercedes (he was leaving Mummy with only the Saab), and started the engine. Then he pulled out a handgun and shot me in the chest. I was standing on the lawn and I fell. The bullet hole opened wide and my heart rolled out of my rib cage and down into a flower bed. Blood gushed rhythmically from my open wound, then from my eyes, my ears, my mouth. It tasted like salt and failure. The bright red shame of being unloved soaked the grass in front of our house, the bricks of the path, the steps to the porch. My heart spasmed among the peonies like a trout. Mummy snapped. She said to get hold of myself. Be normal, now, she said. Right now, she said. Because you are. Because you can be.  Don't cause a scene, she told me. Breathe and sit up. I did what she asked. She was all I had left.