Breakdown: 'My Roommate from Hell' by Cale Dietrich
A study in narrative strain
My Roommate from Hell follows Owen, an orderly and ambitious eighteen-year-old, as he embarks on his first semester of college.
While the campus lives up to his every secret hope, his enthusiasm is dampened by his best friend’s absence. That, and the fact that he’s going to be sharing a dorm room with the literal prince of Hell.
While Zarmenus’ regrettably good looks don’t factor into Owen’s growing despair, his quickly established status as the worst roommate on Earth does.
And with the whole world watching, including a militant group eager to rid humanity of demon kind, the need for tactfully silent suffering has never been more pressing.
It’s no surprise, then, that feigned romance emerges as a possible—and precarious—escape from a mounting crisis.
Here, Dietrich’s allegorical use of demons to present the marginalization of—and prejudiced hostility toward—certain social groups is clever. Likewise, his championing of queer lives through the fantastical and humorous is a welcome touch.
That said, the narrative ultimately falls short of its conceptual basis, making this breakdown an attempt at thumbing the cracks in the foundations—all in an effort to nurture a story harvested before its ripening.
All on the Page
What’s clear from the start is how devoid of subtext the prose is. While this is common in works aimed at younger readers, simplification rarely encourages genuine reflection.
Not trusting us to read between the lines—or interpret a gesture for ourselves—does little to anchor us to the characters or the world they inhabit.
In practice, this means that the mind starts to drift as the eye rolls down the page, letting passiveness slip into boredom, impatience, or both. An example of this comes up during the boys’ first meeting:
