Originally published in Verbicide issue #4

Layman Books, 172 pages, trade paperback, $15.00

There is a lot to say for an author that will tackle subculture homeless youths, and Mr. Romalotti is to be credited for writing a book which deals with some really uncomfortable stuff. In this 172-page novel, published by Layman Books, the reader encounters the Goth culture, bio-ethics, drug use, S&M raves, adolescent sexuality, and all types of abuse. Indeed, Romalotti asks us to care about youths that most of society would like to forget. Jobie, Treva, Opaque, and Tamika take turns disgusting us, while they at the same time evoke a sort of pity. The same is true of the supporting cast of characters, Dr. Schtepp, Dr. Vaughn, Chasey, and Frank, who are the adults of the book.

The four kids are all runaways, escaping some horror at home or another, all running from a past, and hitchhiking their way across the country. The narrative focuses on their time in Austin, Texas, which consists of sparing change, getting high, chasing sordid temptations, and having long heart-to-hearts. The plot twist comes in the form of the adult parallel, so to speak. The two doctors and Chasey are developing a revolutionary new type of treatment for skin disorders, but Dr. Vaughn is impatient, driven by ambition. Ultimately, we learn much about these eight characters, and find that it is their desires which drive their own destruction. The plot is sufficiently interesting to hold the reader’s attention, but it is safe to say that Romalotti’s intention is to show us how the more upstanding members of society can be just as base as those which we perceive as being so undesirable. It’s old hat for this genre, but Romalotti’s execution of the motive is better than usual.

The author’s main strength lies in setting the mood with descriptive phrases; for example, “Soft lights caressed the stage with delicate layers of pastels,” or “With a history crooked and shameful enough to boil holy water.” When this story is at its best, the reader does begin to identify with the characters, but unfortunately, there are too many moments when the laundry list of individual sufferings becomes melodramatic. Also taking away from the story is the random infusions of political opining, and the reader can’t help but wonder if Romalotti is finding a voice for his personal views in the character of Jobie, who is an obsessive and violent youth, who focuses his energy on writing his “Apolitical Manifesto.” We can see Jobie’s self-destructive nature in his romantic desire for Treva, herself an ultra-violent, sex obsessed, drug addict. We are supposed to love these kids despite their faults, but it takes an effort to get through the first half of the book. It’s like a bad horror movie, the audience screaming out, “Don’t go in there! Not that room!” The story does pick up, and two of the kids do make something of themselves, and thankfully, on their own terms. By then end of the novel, the reader is genuinely engaged, and the ending does give cause for pause, and a pensive reconsideration of the plot.

A final analysis of Romalotti’s skill concludes that he’s got a gift, but Rash could be better. The book has a cinematic quality, and much of the first 120 pages or so is filled with scenes which feel like they should be the beginning of the book, rather than the middle. He does manage to pull off a climax that is exciting, and meaningful. Without having read Salad Days, Romalotti’s first effort, it is hard to say in what direction he is moving, but still, if his third novel disposes of the musical references which leaves the reader feeling like he is missing a crucial part of the background, Romalotti will achieve the sort of cult following that William S. Burroughs enjoyed. Rash is a good novel, worth a read, and this reader is looking forward to seeing the independent film version, rumored to be in the works.