THE BOOK OF RALPH

A flamed-out dot-commer revisits his fairly grubby apprenticeship in delinquency in the tutelage of an older and street-wiser buddy.

The always reliable fascination of the good kid with the possibilities of the hood life knit together anecdotal memoirs set in the seedy southwest corner of Chicago in the late ’70s and early ’80s. Despite a home life that’s spiraling toward the septic tank, eighth-grader Hank Boyd has made it through Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy elementary with pretty good grades, staying out of the principal’s office and avoiding confrontation with the older kids who menace the sidewalk. He is certainly doing better than twice-flunked Ralph, the school hellion. Ralph, who lives with his never-seen mum in a shingle-sided shotgun exception to the buff brick postwar neighborhood flouts authority and has criminal connections, cousins Kenny and Norm. Loosely bonded by Hank’s qualified admiration and Ralph’s pleasure in having a semi-capable assistant, the boys begin to test the tolerance of the community for their brand of largely victimless small crime. Ralph is always proposing stuff that’s a lot scarier than any trouble they actually get into, and Hank has to scramble to talk Ralph out of his bad ideas. Kenny and Norm, who have done time and have cars, provide constant peeks at the possibilities of bigger and more dangerous activities, but the worst trouble they get the younger boys into is a gig wearing Sesame Street drag at a used-car lot. Much time is spent dwelling on Hank’s preadolescent and unrequited lust for the girls in his class and then for a sexy young teacher. And there is a very amusing reminiscence of CB radio in its glory days. In a longish coda, Hank, now a jobless CPA, returns to Chicago to lick his wounds after losing his girlfriend and again falls in with Ralph and the cousins, who now have a hugely successful business cleaning up crime scenes.

Harmless fun for the lads, courtesy of second-timer McNally (Troublemakers, not reviewed).