My father used to like to tell me a story about growing up in Paterson, New Jersey, in the good ol’ days of the thirties and forties. As I remember it, he’d take a quarter that he earned on his paper route, pay a nickel to take the bus into Brooklyn, walk to Ebbets Field, pay a nickel to see the Dodgers play, pay a nickel for a hot dog at the ballpark, pay a nickel to take the bus home, and still have a nickel left over. When I heard this growing up, I thought the point of the story was about how things used to be cheaper back then – what miraculous things a nickel could do – and also why I wasn’t going to the Mets game. But now when I reflect back on it, and now that I’m a father myself, I think that maybe the point was about independence, about how he was allowed to go and do these things without it raising any eyebrows, and maybe, beyond that, about how independence is the true telos of parenting and that I should just take myself to the Mets game already. I was put back in mind of dad’s nickel story as I read through The Second Coming, a novel about two people, Ethan Aspern and Sarah Kupferberg, who become parents too young, and who struggle to live up to their roles as parents, and who really struggle to allow their daughter, Jolie, to achieve independence. What we get here, delivered to us in a broken chronology, is Ethan’s story of drug use and addiction and fatherhood and escape right up next to Jolie’s pseudo–attempted suicide and drug use and burgeoning addiction and bottomless resentment and desire to escape. Of course, Hallberg’s idea is to show just how parallel these characters’ lives are, and this is done in contrast to Sarah, the overachieving overbearing mother who neither forgives Ethan, who leaves them when Jolie is three to keep the consequences of his addiction from really ruining their lives, nor trusts Jolie. The dynamic, then, isn’t exactly caustic, but is certainly strained, and so when Jolie is rescued from the subway tracks and Ethan comes back from California to check on her, that strain is ratcheted up, and then when Jolie sees one of her teachers leaving the apartment she lives in with her mother (which we understand means that he, the teacher, has been seeing Sarah, which he has), she wigs out, stops speaking, and goes to stay with her grandparents uptown. Oh boy, so and then Ethan, who stays in New York and lives with a guy that his old probie puts him in touch with, wants to spend Thanksgiving with Jolie who hates him and is now not speaking, and he takes her across state lines (a big no-no) to Ocean City, Maryland, his hometown, where he wants to see his sister and her wife and their adopted son and go to a funeral service for their recently deceased father, everything comes to a head. Ethan, though now sober, is back where his addictions began, and his sister is none-too-pleased to see him and he has to keep Jolie way longer than what was agreed to, meaning that now Sarah is getting the old probie involved (oh yeah and he sends his nephew, who he’s never met before, into a diabetic coma at thanksgiving dinner), and he and Jolie accidently drop acid. All of this, all of it, is about parenthood, about how there comes a time at which, whether you’re ready or not, you have to let your kid be independent, which is also the time when if you resist and try to hold on too long or too hard that you start to cause the problems you imagine you’re mitigating by holding on—it’s the nickel story all over again. There are few weeks that pass that I don’t want to call my dad up to ask him something.