These Things Happen

September 25, 2023
“Something was happening inside of me that I didn’t understand,” young Daniel Zimmer reports, hearing the Ramones for the first time, in this raw yet warm novel of coming of age in Brooklyn at the dawn of punk. Eon’s debut delves into Daniel’s life as he faces an abusive father, a despondent mother, a family tragedy, and his own guilt and addiction. Amidst the trio of siblings, Daniel, the youngest, shares a heartwarming connection with his brothers, united by a shared passion for music and mutual encouragement. They nurture his aspirations as a trumpet player—besides the Ramones, he’s moved by Miles Davis and Chuck Mangione—but beneath the surface, their shared childhood trauma weaves a bond that transcends time. As he’s trying to make sense of adulthood, the aftermath of a death by suicide shatters Daniel's world, leading him to reexamine their shared past.
Throughout the book, the narrative gracefully shuttles between the 1970s and 1990s, shedding light on Daniel's formative years and his journey into an uneasy maturity. Eon masterfully reflects the Zimmer family's dynamics while drawing parallels to changes within the larger social fabric, continually juxtaposing the Zimmers’ experiences against news events, cultural happenings, and more, especially the epochal tragedy of Karen Ann Quinlan, who fell into a coma for a decade as doctors refused to end her life despite her “vegetative” state. Daniel’s brother Max's pitiless references to Karen Quinlan—he labels her as “weak” and unable to “handle life” for her drinking and valium usage—resonate in light of his own struggles. Years later, Max's somber declaration, “It shouldn't be this hard to just live” casts that moment in a stark new light.
With well-drawn characters and a vivid, engaging storyline, These Things Happen moves without lapsing into the sentimental. It also imparts a compelling message. Intergenerational trauma and the insidious cycle of abuse form the novel's thematic core. Eon boldly examines the construct of fragile masculinity, which pressures men to bull through rather than confront their emotional wounds.
Takeaway: Urgent, beautifully written novel of facing adulthood after a Brooklyn childhood.
Comparable Titles: Helen Fox’s How It Feels to Float, Kathleen Glasgow’s You’d Be Home Now..
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A-

November 15, 2023
Eon presents a debut novel that explores themes of addiction, mental health, and generational abuse in a tale set in Brooklyn over two decades. The author pulls no punches in the gruesome opening scene, set in 1995, in which 32-year-old Daniel Zimmer finds his 34-year-old brother, Max, after the latter's failed suicide attempt. The scene feeds into an ongoing theme of intergenerational family trauma; Daniel is an alcoholic who's struggling to stay sober and handle his failing relationship with his girlfriend, Jill Woburn, and the reemergence of Brie Olsson, to whom he was once engaged. Daniel shares a special connection with Jill, which complicates their relationship further: When they were both kids, they experienced what Daniel calls "the most tragic event of either of our lives." The narrative seamlessly switches back and forth between Daniel's childhood in the 1970s and his adulthood in the 1990s to deliver a complex coming-of-age tale. The author masterfully crafts scenes to mirror each other; at one point during the '70s, for instance, the brothers watch a man step off the roof of an asylum, and Max remarks that if he were forced into a place like that, he'd take his own life, too. This stays with Daniel years later as Max is held for involuntary psychiatric treatment after his suicide attempt. Through this weaving of past and present, readers witness Daniel deal with past traumas. But the book also functions as an oddly charming ode to growing up in Brooklyn and a subtle love letter to the music of the time as Daniel, who dreams of being a professional trumpet player, finds comfort in the music of Miles Davis, the Ramones, and Judas Priest. A nostalgic and often beautiful story of recovery.

COPYRIGHT(2023) Kirkus Reviews, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.