28-year-old Allison cobbles a medley of jobs in LA to support her pursuit of a career as a writer. When we meet her, she teaches courses on fiction and the sort at a junior college and facilitates book clubs for wealthy women. The hours she devotes to writing don’t offer any financial stability or a source of income, for that matter. Yet readers will implicitly learn in time that Allison’s most desired occupational goal is to write. Conversely, what’s explicitly revealed is her biological family’s dynamics. Her parents separate when Allison is 17, and she and her mom continually refer to her dad as The Problem, a moniker that captures his fluctuating, manic personality. Readers get the sense that he suffers from past trauma, which expresses itself as a bipolar disorder; if it’s not a full-blown mental health condition, his adult life evidences problematic signs that indicate issues left unresolved. Even having moved away from her hometown outside of Reno, NV, The Problem’s voice continually rings in Allison’s adult mind. The echoes of his dominating and demanding character tether Allison, and she fixates on what her capricious dad thinks or would respond to situations.
Ironically, the voice inside The Problem’s consciousness is Reid Steinman, a man the dad worships. Reid is 6 years younger than Allison’s dad, and when Allison randomly meets Reid in LA, the two begin dating. Publicly, Reid works in showbiz as a controversial radio DJ, popularly known as a crass womanizer. However, in person, Allison learns that her dad’s idol puts on a persona on air; in real life, he is an orderly person who sticks to his schedule and loves his wandering daughter, Emma. As Allison and Reid’s romantic relationship develops, Allison becomes close to Emma. At first, the two similar-in-age women connect because Emma wants to make it as a stand-up comedian; this was Allison’s older brother’s dream, too. 11 years Allison’s senior, Jack leaves home at 15 and, from an unforeseen tragedy, dies in a train accident as his career started taking off. His absence left Allison to navigate caring for her difficult dad by herself, first indefinitely; later, for good. Emma fills this thick-as-thieves-sibling gap, and before long, Allison begins a romantic relationship with Emma while she is with Reid. The novel ends with Allison’s wedding to an unknown person.
The parallels between characters abound, placed side-by-side for easy comparison and contrast. Reid remains stable, almost rigid—readers keep wondering when his relationship with Allison will end. Allison voices her concern, too: “I keep waiting for you to change your mind about me.” To our surprise, Reid seems committed to her. On the other hand, Allison’s dad travels like a vagabond, gets overwhelmed easily, and can’t confirm his Thanksgiving plans. Allison mediates and diffuses situations for her dad; according to Reid’s manager, Reid becomes more enjoyable to work with since seeing Allison. Emma parallels her father in their assertive certainty; both father and daughter exemplify rotating personas in showbiz.
I kept trying to figure out the author’s emphasis in the parallels; it seems to me that the point is to highlight the convoluted ways we are nurtured by the people who raise us. Contrary to reviews that suggest a woman turning 30 should behave more maturely, I understood the author’s emphasis in showing how generational trauma passes and compounds, particularly when the events don’t receive the acute attention required to process them. Plus, it’s not as though Allison isn’t still working or pursuing her goals (albeit slowly), and the book club subplot meaningfully emphasizes Allison’s meandering.
The bubbling plot and uncertain pressure that brims the story effectively keep me engaged. Silverberg shows her strength in how she matches ideas, even theoretical ones related to writing. The derisive yet curious tone satisfied. Told entirely from Allison’s perspective, our main character’s acerbic voice—neither overly satirical nor sarcastic—holds the questionable life choices that unfold, the results for which she both is and isn’t responsible.
In sum, First Time, Long Time feels uneventfully eventful, and Silverberg’s debut novel (3.5 stars) deserves rounding up. I look forward to this author’s future publications. My thanks to Grand Central Publishing and NetGalley for an ARC.