After a sudden change of plans, a remarkable woman and her loyal group of friends try to figure out what she's going to do with the rest of her life--from the #1 New York Times bestselling author of How Stella Got Her Groove Back and Waiting to Exhale Loretha Curry's life is full. A little crowded sometimes, but full indeed. On the eve of her sixty-eighth birthday, she has a booming beauty supply empire, a gaggle of lifelong friends, and a husband who's still got moves that surprise. True, she's carrying a few more pounds than she should be, but she's not one of those women who thinks her best days are behind her, and she's determined to prove her mother, her twin sister, and everyone else with that outdated view of aging wrong--it's not all downhill from here. But when an unexpected loss turns her world upside down, Loretha will have to summon all her strength, resourcefulness, and determination to keep on thriving, pursue joy, heal old wounds, and chart new paths. With a little help from her friends, of course.

“McMillan brings her signature wit and wisdom to It’s Not All Downhill From Here. . . . [She] has a gift for creating characters who face serious problems and still have the ability to laugh at themselves. . . . If getting older is this joyful, despite the painful losses, bring it on.”—O: The Oprah Magazine

“I couldn’t put this book down. Not only would I recommend it to others, but I already handed it off to my mom for her to read next.”—BuzzFeed

“The novel skillfully renders the bonds between multiple generations of women. . . . It’s Not All Downhill From Here is a funny and honest portrait of a woman, late in life, finding second chances. Like a time-tested friendship, the novel comforts.”—San Francisco Chronicle

“McMillan proves once again that she is a skilled master at writing dialogue for strong, intelligent women who know how to laugh in the face of tragedy instead of being consumed by it.”—Associated Press

“A hopeful and hilarious novel that women of all ages can relate to.”—Travel & Leisure

“[A] warm, winning novel.”—AARP

“Lively, perceptive . . . McMillan writes with a staggering depth of feeling, credibly capturing the characters’ emotions as she unpacks their interpersonal conflicts. This delightful novel balances inspiration for renewal with the hard facts of aging.”—Publishers Weekly (starred review)

“This is a story of the power of women and the inspiring lives they lead.”—She Reads

“This baldly honest, laugh-out-loud story . . . will remind you of just how healing friendship can be.”—Good Housekeeping

“A deeply moving book that gently balances the realities—both personal and societal—of aging with a hopeful message: It’s never too late to change how you’re living your life.”—Salon

“This is another winner from McMillan.”—BookPage

Autorentext
Terry McMillan is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Waiting to Exhale, How Stella Got Her Groove Back, A Day Late and a Dollar Short, and The Interruption of Everything and the editor of Breaking Ice: An Anthology of Contemporary African-American Fiction. Each of Ms. McMillan's seven previous novels was a New York Times bestseller, and four have been made into movies: Waiting to Exhale, How Stella Got Her Groove Back, Disappearing Acts, and A Day Late and a Dollar Short. She lives in California.

Zusammenfassung
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • After a sudden change of plans, a remarkable woman and her loyal group of friends try to figure out what she’s going to do with the rest of her life—from Terry McMillan, the bestselling author of How Stella Got Her Groove Back and Waiting to Exhale
 
NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY MARIE CLAIRE AND GOOD HOUSEKEEPING • “Poignant, funny and full of life, this is a balm for troubled times.”—People

Loretha Curry’s life is full. A little crowded sometimes, but full indeed. On the eve of her sixty-eighth birthday, she has a booming beauty-supply empire, a gaggle of lifelong friends, and a husband whose moves still surprise. True, she’s carrying a few more pounds than she should be, but Loretha is not one of those women who think her best days are behind her—and she’s determined to prove wrong her mother, her twin sister, and everyone else with that outdated view of aging wrong. It’s not all downhill from here.

But when an unexpected loss turns her world upside down, Loretha will have to summon all her strength, resourcefulness, and determination to keep on thriving, pursue joy, heal old wounds, and chart new paths. With a little help from her friends, of course.

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

I don’t want another surprise party.

Which is just one reason why a few weeks ago, when my husband, Carl, called while I was walking our dog, B. B. King, to the dog park and asked what I wanted to do for my birthday this year, I politely said, “Baby, let’s try to figure out how to get our second wind.”

At first Carl high-­pitch chuckled like he was a soprano or something, then he said, “Will we need a boat?”

I chuckled right back, even though I was serious as a heart attack.

“Don’t you worry, Miss Lo. I’ve got you covered,” he said as he hung up.

I knew he didn’t really get my drift. What I meant was, since we both had more days behind us than we have ahead of us, how about we try to figure out what more we can do to pump up the volume? It’s not that our life is boring. Well, maybe it is, a little. But even though we don’t do very many things that generate excitement, I still love him more than my Twizzlers! Carl is a retired contractor who refuses to retire, and after thirty years of all work and no play selling hair and beauty products in two stores too many, I don’t exactly qualify as a thrill a minute either.

I released B. B. King’s leash inside the dog park, but he just stood there shivering, as if he were waiting to be invited to participate in some activity that didn’t require him to run or jump. In human years, he and I will soon be the same age: sixty-­eight. His whiskers and eyebrows are peppered with gray, but unlike me, B. B. doesn’t dye his hair. He is our third German shepherd and I don’t want to think about how long it will be until he doesn’t want to, or can’t, hop in the back seat of my Volvo station wagon, which I will drive until, like me, it stops running.

I sat on the green metal bench and watched him sniff a friendly chocolate poodle. I realized I was hoping and praying I wasn’t going to have to sit through yet another lackluster party where nobody even thinks about dancing until they hear a song you have to be damn near seventy to remember, which I suppose now includes me. And that’s if you call doing the cha-­cha-­cha in flats or espadrilles or two-­inch wedges with rubber soles to a beat they all hear differently, dancing. I don’t. I watch music videos on YouTube. I find myself rocking my future-­size-­twelve hips, swinging and swaying my shoulders and popping my fingers to the likes of “Single Ladies” or “Uptown Funk” by that little cutie Bruno Mars until I have to wipe my forehead. I have not forgotten how to dance. In fact, sometimes, Carl will sit…