The Invisible Circus

oneShe'd missed it, Phoebe knew by the silence. Crossing the lush, foggy park, she heard nothing but the drip of condensation running from ferns and palm leaves. By the time she reached the field, its vast emptiness came as no surprise.The grass was a brilliant, jarring green. Debris covered it, straws, crushed cigarettes, a few sodden blankets abandoned to the mud.Phoebe shoved her hands in her pockets and crossed the grass, stepping over patches of bare mud. A ring of trees encircled the field, coastal trees, wind-bent and gnarled yet still symmetrical, like figures straining to balance heavy trays.At the far end of the field several people in army jackets were dismantling a bandstand. They carried its parts through the trees to a road, where Phoebe saw the dark shape of a truck.She approached a man and woman with long coils of orange electrical cord dangling from their arms. Phoebe waited politely for the two to finish talking, but they seemed not to notice her. Timidly she turned to another man, who carried a plank across his arms. "Excuse me," she said. "Did I miss it?""You did," he said. "It was yesterday. Noon to midnight." He squinted at her as if the sun were out. He looked vaguely familiar, and Phoebe wondered if he might have known her sister. She was always wondering that."I thought it was today," she said uselessly."Yeah, about half the posters were printed wrong." He grinned, his eyes a bright, chemical blue, like sno-cones.It was June 18, a Saturday. Ten years before, in 1968, a "Festival of Moons" had allegedly happened on this same field. "Revival of Moons," the posters promised, and Phoebe had juggled her shifts at work and come eagerly, anxious to relive what she'd failed to live even once."So, how was it?" she asked."Underattended." He laughed sardonically."I'm glad it wasn't just me," she said.The guy set down his plank and ran a hand across his eyes. Blunt, straight blond hair fell to his shoulders. "Man," he said, "you look a lot like this

Jennifer Egan is the author of four novels: A Visit from the Goon Squad, The Keep, Look at Me, The Invisible Circus; and the story collection Emerald City. Her stories have been published in The New Yorker, Harper s Magazine, GQ, Zoetrope, All-Story, and Ploughshares, and her nonfiction appears frequently in The New York Times Magazine. She lives with her husband and sons in Brooklyn.

Mesmerizing. . . . Told with great assurance and power. . . . Egan portrays the sisters with a quiet, heartbreaking clarity.
The New York Times Book Review

Wonderful. . . . Words glide through her fingers and enter the pores like cool San Francisco fog.
Los Angeles Times Book Review

Brilliant in its authenticity and overwhelming passion.
The Boston Globe

A trip that takes the reader through stunning emotional terrain.
The New Yorker