From the Back Cover:
Land with the thud of a body dropped onto a beanbag chair, back in the 1970s where everything and nothing happened all at once.
Wedged between the aspirations of the 1960s and the cynicism of the 1980s, Jensen Coaxials pounding until they blow, Leo Kraft and his fellow Nothing Brothers stagger around suburban NY in search of something. Simultaneously overparented and unseen, Leo finds inspiration first in Heavy Metal, then in his Grandfather’s Bronx-fleeing generation and a former hippy sleepover camp, where he feels seen for the first time. The reader sees the 1970s through the bleary eyes of teens who haunt record stores, attend stadium shows, sit in gas lines, fight with tribal ferocity over music loyalty. They ridicule and mock everything around them, until they are left with only one thing to mock, themselves.
In the Nothing Brothers, Rosen recreates a gripping real-time depiction of growing up and through the 1970s, transcending the bell-bottom centered nostalgic treatment of this lost decade allowing the reader their own glimpse into the connection between that generational failure and the world we live in today.
From the Back Cover:
Land with the thud of a body dropped onto a beanbag chair, back in the 1970s where everything and nothing happened all at once.
Wedged between the aspirations of the 1960s and the cynicism of the 1980s, Jensen Coaxials pounding until they blow, Leo Kraft and his fellow Nothing Brothers stagger around suburban NY in search of something. Simultaneously overparented and unseen, Leo finds inspiration first in Heavy Metal, then in his Grandfather’s Bronx-fleeing generation and a former hippy sleepover camp, where he feels seen for the first time. The reader sees the 1970s through the bleary eyes of teens who haunt record stores, attend stadium shows, sit in gas lines, fight with tribal ferocity over music loyalty. They ridicule and mock everything around them, until they are left with only one thing to mock, themselves.
In the Nothing Brothers, Rosen recreates a gripping real-time depiction of growing up and through the 1970s, transcending the bell-bottom centered nostalgic treatment of this lost decade allowing the reader their own glimpse into the connection between that generational failure and the world we live in today.
Chapter 1
Goin’ to California
“You could put your bowl in the sink,” his mother said as she reentered the kitchen. A tension settled over them. She was burdened with a second load of groceries he had not offered to carry in. What she was really asking him was, ‘After everything you’ve already done to us, are you really going to leave your bowl on the table too?’ So when he muttered “I could” but did not move, what he was really telling her was, ‘Get over it.’
After a big, ignored show of putting the second load of groceries down, his mom took in a long, loud breath. “Well, I’ve got great news, Leo,” she said, as friendly as she might have been if he had carried in the groceries, or if she hadn’t found his pipe in his jeans just two days earlier. “My father’s friend, Stan Freedman…”
“Who?”
“He plays cards with your grandfather at the pool? In the summer? You remember him.” She handed him a bag of Wise potato chips. Leo thought about the time earlier in the year, when Leo had bet Karl ten baseball cards that he could aggravate Leo’s father just by saying he preferred Lay’s chips over Wise, and when Karl had taken him up on it and talked about how much he loved Lay’s, his father had responded with, “You don’t want to waste your time with that flavorless crap.”
“Are you listening to me?” his mother asked, stuffing the empty shopping bags into the trash.
“I guess,” Leo said, wondering which old man, out of all the endless old men who played cards with his grandfather at the pool during the summer, Stan Freedman might be.
“Well, his son David runs a sleepover camp, and they need counselors.”
“Yeah?”
“So we got you a job there.”
“I’ve got Ted Nugent tickets.”
“Ted who?”
He twisted around and pointed at the back of his jacket, which he had recently started wearing in the house again. “This is the Summer of Nugent. I’ve told you that like a million times.”
“That’s not until August. Your session at the camp ends on July 24th. You won’t have to miss your music show.”
“What about Mr. Donaldson’s lawn?”
“He’ll get one of the younger kids to mow it.”
“I’ve never even been to sleepaway camp.”
“You went to day camp.”
“That’s totally different. How am I supposed to be a sleepaway counselor if I’ve never gone to sleepaway camp?”
“Yes. In the entire history of mankind, no one has ever been a counselor who wasn’t a camper first.” His mother was hard to argue with because she didn’t really argue. She just said shit.
“Dad will never let me go.”
“Of course he will. This was practically his idea.”
So that was the deal—a scheme to ship him out of town and get him away from his friends they hated so much. Well, there was no way they were going to send him out of town for the Summer of Nugent. “I’m not going to some nerdy sleepaway camp.”
“Leo,” his mother said, trying a different approach. “Give it a chance. Your friends will be here when you get back. Ira and Danny go to camp every summer.”
“Read my lips. I’m not going.”
“You are going. Your grandfather went to great lengths to arrange this.”
“He’ll understand.”
“That’s not the point. The point is, I’m still your mother and if I say you’re doing something, you’re doing it.”
Leo didn’t say anything then. Now that he had his license and his car, when the day came to leave for camp, he would just take off and drive up to Harriman State Park and stay there for a few days. Fuck them.
His grandfather called him that night. “You should go,” he said.
“I’m sorry if you went out of your way to arrange this, Grandpa, but I’m not going.”
“I didn’t call in any favors. Go for you.”
“Fuck no,” Leo said. “I’m not sitting around some campfire singing folk songs with a bunch of Jewish boy losers.”
“It’s not a Jewish camp. And it’s co-ed. Look, it’s not a victory for your parents if you go. It’s just a good idea. Stan’s son who runs the camp helped put on that Woodstock concert.”
On his last night at home, just a week later, when they were hanging out in the gazebo in Children’s Park like normal, Leo repeated the worst part of it. “I just hate my parents gloating. Like they won something because I gave in.”
“Don’t bogart it, man,” The Stork said. “You can’t smoke three weeks’ worth of weed in one night.”
“Check out their brochure,” he said, getting it out and passing it around. “Anyone found with anything marijuana related will be arrested first and then sent home next. Even rolling papers. Zero tolerance.”
“And check this out,” Leo said, showing them the newspaper clippings his father had xeroxed at the library. “Pot convictions in Port Jervis. Where the camp is.”
“Oh, that’s where they shot Slapshot,” Johnny said, as if that was the point.
“You should still bring some weed,” Bernstein said. “You can’t go cold turkey for three weeks.”
“This place is serious. They have a drug-sniffing dog.”
“So you put it in peanut butter.”
Karl said, “It says here they have drug-sniffing dogs. Plural.”
“Dude, consider yourself lucky,” Bernstein said. “My old man’s always threatening to ship me to military school. Your parents just sent you to summer camp for three weeks.”
“Well, I’m a counselor, so I’ve got to work. Plus, this place is like Fort Knox.”
“Counselor In Training,” Stems corrected. “Being a CIT is the best of both worlds. You’re in charge, but you’re not in charge of anything.”
“Just 24 hours from now, some rich douche is going to break out his guitar and you’re gonna hafta sing Joni Mitchell songs,” Karl said, still reading the brochure. “Oh, maybe not,” he corrected himself, pointing at a line. “‘Our campers practice abstinence.’ So no douche is going to bother to sing.”
“Damn,” Melanie said. “I thought you might finally get laid.”
* * *
On the dreaded morning of his departure, his mother shook him awake. “Sleeping in your clothes again,” she said as she always did, as if that proved something. “Didn’t you hear me knocking?”
He brushed his teeth, threw some cold water on his face and hair, which was pushing out in too many wrong directions, and went downstairs, where his father was pressing buttons on the Mr. Coffee that beeped back at him argumentatively. “Did you park the car where I asked?” his father asked, without turning.
“Did you look?” Leo asked back.
“No, I didn’t look. If I had, would I have asked?”
He went outside where he discovered, much to his surprise, that he had parked the LeMans perfectly the night before. He went over to the car and lay his hand on the smooth, gleaming ocean of a color that swooped over the fender. He couldn’t believe he wouldn’t be able to drive his car for three weeks. “I think I’ll miss you most of all,” he said to it.
As usual with everything, there weren’t enough kids from Rockland County going to camp, so they had to drive to White Plains to catch the nearest bus. His father claimed he had to meet some contractor at the office, so his mother drove. She didn’t like to drive over the Tappan Zee bridge, so they stayed mostly quiet during the ride. When they neared the mall parking lot where they were to meet the camp bus, she turned to him and said, “Promise me you won’t smoke pot. If you get caught, I don’t think your father will come for you.”
“Yeah, but would you?”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I’m sure these kids are going to like you,” she said, as if that was the main thing on his mind. He didn’t give a shit about these kids. They weren’t his friends, and they weren’t going to be his friends. They were just people he was being forced to spend three weeks with until he could come home to his real friends.
When they pulled into the parking lot, Leo saw a few kids his age and a few a bit older. A college-looking guy with long, curly black hair impeccably framing his head, not quite long enough to be Frampton-like but close, came over to him. He was barefoot and had on a deerskin-looking vest over a Jethro Tull tour shirt. “Roy,” he said, shaking Leo’s hand. “Your boss. You must be the new kid. Leon?”
“Leo,” Leo said.
“I know. Just busting balls.”
Roy went over to Leo’s mother and said something to her. She came over, hugged Leo and left. “I speak parent,” Roy said to Leo. “It’s good to be bilingual.” Then he turned to the scattered group of kids. “Everyone, meet Leo, first timer,” he said. “Everyone give him a big Camp Wel-Met welcome!” It unnerved Leo, who hated authority, especially when young people wielded it like old people, and was not in the mood to be part of some welcome song-type ritual. But much to his surprise, no one did anything except a bunch of murmurs and ‘hey’s.
“Lesson learned,” Roy said. “Not a big rah-rah camp. Now get ready to load some bags.”
As they were loading trunks into the bottom storage of the bus, the bay doors lifted like vampire wings. Leo met the other CITs and counselors. Families dropped off their kids, some of whom were little, many of whom were crying. “Are you good with kids?” this CIT named Nadine asked him. She had a pretty face and big, owlish eyes. She had a tank top on, and he could see wisps of dark hair under her arms.
“I don’t know,” Leo said, realizing for the first time that he would be dealing with kids, little kids even, every day. He’d been so focused on his anger over being shipped off that he hadn’t thought much about what his destination would be like.
“I’m terrible with kids,” she said. “They just annoy me. I feel like I was a kid myself just the other day.” Her interest in talking to Leo made him realize how hot she was. If she’d been one of Charlie’s Angels, she wouldn’t have been the one featured in the Spencer’s Gifts poster section, but she’d still have been the one he liked the most.
“Yeah, me too,” Leo finally said. “Why would they think we can help them?”
After they loaded the bus, Roy came over to Leo. “Come with me to the bathroom,” he said, pointing to a gas station across the street.
“Don’t they have one on the bus?”
“I drive my own car,” he said, pointing to a Ford Pinto. “Do not bad mouth the Pinto.” They started walking across the parking lot. “You smoke weed?” Roy asked.
Now Leo got it. He was giving the new kid the scared-straight talk. “I have,” Leo said.
“And have you read the zero-tolerance policy?”
“Yes.”
“And the abstinence policy?”
“Yeah, my friend Karl read that.”
“Well, that’s good,” Roy said. They walked behind the gas station and Roy reached into his jacket, taking out a little one-hitter that looked like a cigarette and firing up before passing it to Leo. “I don’t want some first-year CIT who doesn’t know the rules,” he muttered between pursed lips.
After they were done, Leo got on the bus and sat next to one of the second-year CITs, a kid named Ted Weiner. “Roy get you baked?” he asked.
“Totally.”
“Let me tell you a few things about Camp Wel-Met,” Ted started to say, but then Roy barked at him, “Ted, switch seats with Nadine! I don’t want the new kid getting bad ideas from you.”
“Wow, look at you,” Ted said to Nadine as she took the window seat. “You look totally different.”
“Yeah, well, you look exactly the same,” she replied, punching him in the arm. “I’ve known him since Unit 1,” she explained to Leo.
The door hissed shut and the bus began to move. Parents stood in the parking lot waving and following the bus a few steps, and Leo and Nadine watched Roy peel out in his Pinto. “I have a car too, a LeMans,” Leo said, then wished he hadn’t because it sounded like a dick thing to say. He was about to amend it when he noticed a kid right across the aisle crying hard.
“We got a crier,” Nadine said. Leo looked over at the kid, who had carrot-red hair and freckles, and the kid next to him who was trying not to look at the crying kid. “Camp would be so great without kids,” she said with a sigh.
Leo ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe I should talk to him or something.”
“Duh, I think it’s your job,” Nadine said, laughing and showing off big round dimples.
Leo moved across the aisle to where the little kid sat crying. Leo had noticed him in the parking lot, as he always noticed red-haired kids like himself, even though in the last six months he had pointedly started calling it ‘auburn.’ He also had splotchy freckles, which Leo was glad he didn’t have to deal with.
“Do you mind switching?” Leo asked the other kid, who was up and out of the seat before Leo could finish asking. Leo didn’t have a little brother or sister. He didn’t even have little cousins. “What’s up?” he asked the kid, who was still crying just as hard as before. The only thing he could compare this to was trying to stop Pepper from barking when another dog went by.
“Nothing.”
“Miss your parents?”
“No. They just left.”
Leo pulled a Burger King napkin out of his Nugent jacket. “You got a little snot,” he said, and the red-haired kid wiped his nose. This was such a weird place to suddenly find himself. He wondered if the Fellas would think he was being cool or a douche, trying to make this kid feel better. “Wish you weren’t going?” he tried again.
“I guess.” Leo could see the kid calming down a little, huffing and puffing less, even as the tears kept coming. “I don’t know anybody.”
“You know me.”
“I don’t know you. I don’t even know your name,” he said testily, bringing Leo down a notch. “I’m Joey,” he added before Leo could regain control of the situation.
“I’m Leo.”
“We both have red hair,” Joey said. “I hate having red hair.”
“Me too,” Leo agreed. “The only people who like it are old ladies.”
“My mom says the girls like it.”
“Yeah, old girls,” Leo said, rolling his eyes. “But my cousin Sheila says red hair’s cool.”
“Is she old?”
“Nah, she’s like me.” He looked at Joey who wasn’t crying anymore, and across the aisle he could see the kid whose seat he had taken and Nadine watching him. “How old do you think I am?”
“I dunno.”
“Guess.”
“25.”
“Dude, I’m like 16 years old.”
Joey thought about that. “Well, that’s still pretty old.” He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “Did you cry the first day of camp too?”
This was nuts. He’d been on the bus like 15 minutes and already some kid was looking up to him. “Guess what? Today is my first day of camp.”
“No, I mean like your very first day.”
“Joey, my man, today is my very first day.”
“Oh,” Joey said, then he offered him the booger-soaked napkin. “Do you need this?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
Joey looked around. “Now everybody on the bus probably thinks I’m a crybaby.”
“Not just a crybaby, but a red-haired crybaby.” He instantly regretted saying that, but Joey just laughed. “One time when I was about your age, I watched Brian’s Song and I couldn’t stop crying all night. And not little booger tears, but like ‘I can’t breathe’ crying.” Leo remembered that night, and the terrible moment when his mother had offered him a second Yodel to make him feel better. It suddenly hit him that he too was all alone on this bus, grinding its way along the New York State Thruway, and that he would be sleeping alone tonight in a place where he didn’t know anybody. He felt tears start to well in his own eyes before he squeezed them right back down.
“My parents won’t let me watch that.”
“It’s sad.” After a while, Leo asked, “You good now? Can I go back to my seat?”
Joey looked over at Nadine. “Do you think she’s a hippie?”
Leo looked back over at her. She had on denim shorts, with the frayed snow-white edges sparkling against her deeply tan thighs. “I hope so.”
Leo stood up and the other little kid came over. “What’s your name?” Leo asked him.
“Kevin,” he answered, which Leo could have guessed. Kevin was the perfect name for this kid, who wore socks with very white sneakers and a Welcome Back Kotter t-shirt. He would be playing shortstop and batting cleanup.
“I’m Leo,” he said, with a confidence that almost bordered on authority. “And I would appreciate it if you would take good care of my friend, Joey.”
“That was unbelievable,” Nadine said to him when he sat back down, her eyelids closing as slow as a garage door over those owl eyes.
“I know,” Leo agreed. “I didn’t think I had it in me.”
Nadine looked around the bus. “These girls are going to hate me. They better not make me fucking sing.”
Leo thought about girls all the time, and all the things he had to do to impress them. As far as he could tell, beautiful girls didn’t have to do anything except choose which attention to welcome. But after turning off Joey’s tears, he could almost swear that Nadine was trying to impress him. As he was thinking how cool it would be to do something with her, maybe not kiss her, but something, she picked up his hand. “Let me see your lifeline,” she said, turning his hand over so she could see the lines on his palm. She was most definitely a hippie.
The Nothing Brothers by Jeffrey Rosen is a captivating novel that transports readers back to the 1970s, a time of great cultural and social change. Through the story of the protagonist, Leo, the reader is taken on a journey of self-discovery and the exploration of what it means to find one's place in the world. This book is a must-read for anyone looking for a great story, regardless of their age or personal experiences.
One of the most impressive aspects of The Nothing Brothers is the author's mastery of storytelling. Jeffrey Rosen's writing style is both engaging and easy to follow, with a nice flow to the narrative that makes it hard to put down. The protagonist's voice comes through strongly in the third-person narrative, providing readers with a deep understanding of his personality and thoughts. This makes it easy for the reader to connect with Leo and become invested in his journey.
The author's ability to transport the reader back in time is equally remarkable. The Nothing Brothers provides a nostalgic glimpse into the past, evoking a sense of nostalgia for those who lived through the era and introducing younger readers to a unique and fascinating time in history. The portrayal of the 1970s is not just surface-level, but delves into the core of the cultural identity of the decade, capturing the essence of the music, fashion, and cultural influences of the time.
The Nothing Brothers is also an insightful look at the music and cultural trends of the 1970s. The author captures the influence of bands like Led Zeppelin and the significance of head shops and record stores, showcasing the spirit of the time, including the sense of adventure and exploration that was so prevalent in the 1970s. For those who lived through the era, this book serves as a reminder of a simpler time, when communication was more tangible and the air was thick with feeling.
For younger readers, The Nothing Brothers provides an invaluable opportunity to learn about a time that is often romanticized but not fully understood. The book offers a window into the life of a teenager during a period of great cultural and social change, showcasing the universal themes of self-discovery and finding one's place in the world that still resonate today. This provides them with a chance to understand what it was like to grow up during this time and how it shaped the world we live in today. Based on all of the above-mentioned reasoning and analysis, I can give this book a solid 4.5/5 rating.
The Nothing Brothers is a compelling and enjoyable read that will take you back in time. With its well-written narrative, its portrayal of the essence of the 1970s, and its insightful look at the journey of self-discovery, this book is highly recommended for anyone looking for a great read. Whether you lived through the 1970s or are simply fascinated by the era, this book is sure to provide a memorable reading experience. So, grab a copy of The Nothing Brothers today and be transported back to a time of great change, self-discovery, and exploration.