From the Publisher
Urgent, beautifully written . . . with well-drawn characters and a vivid, engaging storyline, These Things Happen . . . imparts a compelling message.” —BookLife Reviews (Editor’s Pick)
“Smooth, evocative prose, well-drawn characters, and the intriguing time and place of 1970s Brooklyn. . . . A thoughtful read.” —BlueInk Review
“Raw and compelling. . . . The energy of being a child in a city that will eat you up if you let it seeps through the pages.” —Readers’ Favorite
“Suffused with an ambivalent, deeply melancholic nostalgia that recalls the turbulent family dynamics of J. D. Salinger.” —IndieReader
“A nostalgic and often beautiful story. [A] charming ode to growing up in Brooklyn and a subtle love letter to the music of the time.” —Kirkus Reviews
“[A] visceral and emotionally charged novel that takes on the many complexities of family, addiction, and self-discovery.” —Pacific Book Review
“A beautiful story [by] an excellent writer . . . had me on the edge of my seat from page one.” —Manhattan Book Review
“These Things Happen is a stunning, cinematic novel that provides the reader with a satisfying emotional catharsis.” —Feathered Quill
“Michael Eon has written a debut novel that keeps readers glued to the pages.” —BookTrib
Kirkus Reviews
2023-10-04
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.
