Introduction“Love & Rockets X,” more than any of Gilbert Hernandez’s other stories from the first volume of Love & Rockets, is challenging and often misunderstood. It was not included on the Comics Journal’s “100 Best English Language Comics of the Century” list (in issue #210), and most critics tend to dismiss it as a lesser work when comparing it to "Poison River" and "Human Diastrophism." Douglas Wolk, in his book Reading Comics: How Graphic Novels Work and What They Mean, described the story’s reputation as “the one where Gilbert finally went off the rails.” Gilbert himself even branded the story with the self-deprecating subtitle, “a rock ‘n’ roll headache” in the collected version, validating many readers' frustrations with the story.
The primary reason for this lack of critical acclaim is L&RX's unusually condensed storytelling structure. Throughout its crowded 60 pages, Gilbert uses a dense nine-panel grid. In the Hernandez Brothers' second Comics Journal interview (TCJ #178), Gilbert described this storytelling approach, which includes heavy reliance on single panel scenes, rapid transitions, limited context and subtle visual cues to convey important story details (such as location, time, relationships between characters, etc.), as “the honeycomb syndrome.” “It's the most panels you can have on a page with the most space per panel. An eight-panel page looks smaller, although it has fewer panels. I chose the nine-panel format because I wanted to tell a story with a lot of characters and I wanted to tell it fairly briskly.”
While this page format is certainly common in comic books, it was Gilbert's tendency to condense entire scenes into a single panel which taxed his readers' patience. Wolk describes the underlying difficulties inherent with this approach. “With every abrupt scene shift, we have to work hard to puzzle out where we are and how the fragment we’re seeing clicks into the matrix of the story…” And Wolk was far from the only reader who had difficulty with this format. Even Gilbert’s brother, Jaime, confessed in the Ten Years of Love & Rockets special that “if every panel was a scene, it would drive me crazy. It can be done – Gilbert’s been doing that in his “Love & Rockets” story. But it’s very hard to do and still allow the story to breathe.”
The other often-cited problem with L&RX is the fact that it introduced an exceptionally large cast of new characters. Originally serialized over a three year period, from 1989 to 1992 (in issues 31 through 39), L&RX challenged its readers' long-term memories. Even Neil Gaiman, one of the Brothers' biggest fans, confessed that “it was coming out very infrequently, so that when a new Love & Rockets would come out, it would be an event. I would take it home, I would read it, I’d get three pages in and suddenly think, ‘Who are these people and what are they doing?’”
Simply put, "Love & Rockets X" was too ambitious in scope for the serialized comic book format (a problem the artist freely acknowledges in reference to L&RX as well as “Poison River”). Yet, despite these shortcomings, Gilbert’s true vision of a novel-length portrait of Los Angeles became clear when it was completed and released in trade paperback format in 1993. When carefully reread as a single, cohesive story, “Love & Rockets X” reveals a startlingly rich and meticulously crafted thematic subtext. It cannot be read quickly or superficially, nor will readers grasp all of its complex themes on a first reading, but the story’s continued social relevance nearly three decades after its initial release is compelling evidence that it deserves to be reconsidered among the greatest literary graphic novels ever published.
Major Themes
Although the story encompasses a broad spectrum of ideas, there are five central themes which recur throughout the crowded 60 pages.
1. American Self-Centeredness – The most pervasive theme is the profound self-centeredness at the core of American society. Particularly in Los Angeles, where the Hollywood culture has skewed the emphasis on personal appearance and body image to an unhealthy extreme, many of the characters are deeply self-obsessed with their own physical appearance.There are several examples of this narcissism in the story, but Cindy, Rex’s mother, who is so skinny, she looks borderline anorexic, represents one of the more memorable portraits of this uniquely American brand of self-obsession. In her few moments in the story's spotlight, she is either bent into contortionist yoga poses or working out with trainers, and only seems vaguely interested in being a mother to her son. Kristen Niznick, a high school cheerleader, is another casualty of this intense pressure to look perfect. In the opening chapter, Kristen, who is the single most physically attractive of all the characters in the story, sees herself as fat and disgusting, and this distorted self-image manifests itself as an eating disorder.
However, in Gilbert's version of Los Angeles, this self-centeredness extends far beyond physical appearance. As Douglas Wolk points, “all of this story’s characters believe that they’re its hero; a lot of them soliloquize or even address the reader in idle moments, as if we’re supposed to be paying attention to them in particular and everyone else is just the supporting cast.” In fact, many of the characters are so deeply engrossed in crafting their images, they hardly take notice of those family and friends closest to them. Kristen’s father, Mike, for example, is so immersed in his filmmaking and personal interests that he’s completely unaware of his daughter’s eating disorder, despite the fact that the signs are painfully obvious.
But perhaps the character who most typifies this American brand of selfishness is E.T., a black teenager who spends virtually all of his time either delivering pizzas or hanging out with his friends. Throughout the opening half of the story, E.T. barely spends any time with his son, Jerome, and even when he is at home, he prefers to listen to music than play with his son. Like too many young black men, he leaves the child-raising responsibilities to his mother and it’s only after he is nearly murdered that E.T. regains some perspective, realizes the importance of family, and decides to take a vacation to spend time with his son.Another example of this American self-centeredness is the casual way that sexuality permeates the story’s various relationships, and how rarely it is accompanied by anything resembling love or emotional connection. This, of course, is nothing new in the series. Both Gilbert and Jaime have been working casual sex into their respective tales since the beginning, no doubt a reflection of the punk rock cauldron in which many of these characters were formed. But in L&RX, sexual experiences are treated like material possessions, divorced of any deeper meaning, and the focus is solely on instant self-gratification. Even Riri and Maricela, whose relationship represented the only example of real love in the entire story, pursue sexual partners for their own selfish interests – to conceive a child – rather than out of any romantic motives.
The real tragedy, however, is the fact that, rather than feel ashamed, most of the characters in this story proudly celebrate their selfishness. Consider Steve’s t-shirt in the panel above, which he wears the night of the big Hollywood party. In no uncertain terms, its message to “smoke, drink, take drugs, wear fur, fuck” is a shameless expression of the virtues of living a self-centered lifestyle. And punctuating this hedonistic philosophy into an ironic slogan, the back of his shirt reads simply “just say yes,” a parody of Nancy Reagan’s famous anti-drug slogan. Gilbert’s not-so-subtle message is that, to the residents of Los Angeles, anything that brings pleasure is acceptable, and should be pursued at all costs, regardless of the consequences.
2. Ethnic and Racial Tensions - The ethnic and racial tensions in Los Angeles, perhaps more than any other single subject, is the theme in “Love & Rockets X” that is likely to resonate with readers after they finish the story. But there are two very different types of ethnic experiences presented.The first is the tensions and prejudices between blacks and whites. This commonly understood definition of racism is the story of America’s history, tracing its origins back to the very beginnings of the country, from slavery through the Civil War and the subsequent civil rights movement of the 1960s. However, in this story, Gilbert is particularly focused on the unique culture in contemporary Los Angeles, where the increasing racial tensions were about to erupt.
Right off the bat, in the opening pages of the first chapter, Gilbert establishes the racial divide in the city by contrasting the white, upper/middle-class yuppie neighborhood of Beverly Hills with the black, lower-class, urban neighborhood of East LA. Notice the stark difference between the two neighborhoods in the two panels above. The vapidity of the two white tennis players walking through their sterile neighborhood, glowing looks of blissful ignorance plastered across their faces is sharply contrasted against the dilapidated, bleak urban setting in the second panel. In the black neighborhood, walls are crumbling and covered in graffiti, shops have steel shutters for security and the street is covered in litter and filth. These keenly-observed details (a particular strength of Gilbert’s) highlight the economic and social disparities between the two communities and set the tone for the racial conflicts to come in the story.There are three key plot points where the racial tensions between blacks and whites, which run throughout, come to a head. The first is the incident at Rex’s party in the fifth chapter. Rex, the bassist for the dysfunctional band, Love & Rockets, is one of the most racially insensitive characters in the entire story. For example, when he learns that Steve put up flyers for the party on the “East Side,” Rex is afraid of “crazy nigger gangbangers” showing up and somebody “getting fucked over or shot.”
So when three young black men (Junior Brooks, E.T. and Erf’Quake) arrive at the party (with Steve, their white friend who immediately abandons them in search of Riri), it doesn't matter that they are all way too stoned to cause any trouble. The racial barrier has been breached and when the majority of the white guests see a group of young black “gangbangers,” rumors that they are “fucking with everybody’s cars” quickly spread through the party.
Finally, bowing to pressure from some of the white guests, Rex tells the three black men to leave, which they do peacefully and with minimal protest. But, as Gilbert is acutely aware, the subtleties of race relations are complex, and accordingly, not all of the white guests are supportive of Rex’s decision. A few, including Mike Niznick and Igor Valdez, are so offended, they promptly leave the party in protest of Rex’s “major fuck-up.”
This incident represents a more subtle form of racism, one which is predicated on the vague fear that whites have of blacks, and the media-fueled stereotype that all young black men are violent criminals or gang members. Their very presence at the party is seen as a threat, a violation of an unspoken social contract. In the larger context of the overall story, the incident is emblematic of the underlying tensions that are ever-present in Los Angeles, and the way various characters respond paints a fascinating sociological portrait of a city whose citizens are ethnically segregated, but live close enough to each other that they are constantly forced to confront their differences.
The assault on Malvina Wilson, an elderly black woman, by three white teenagers (Carl, Charlie and Ben) is a more iconic example of racism and its broader impact on society. Unlike the incident at Rex’s party, this is an actual hate crime. It is also no coincidence that the three black men in the story turned out to be non-violent and harmless, while the three white men are hate-filled murderers. Gilbert is intentionally playing with his readers' preconcieved racial stereotypes, casting the white men in the traditional role of gangbangers.After Mrs. Wilson referred to them as “white trash” when she caught them urinating behind a supermarket, Carl beat her up while Ben and Charlie watched. Not surprisingly, the sensational nature of this crime makes it headline news, instantly broadcast to millions throughout the city and the effect this publicity has on the various ethnic groups is polarizing and incendiary. The black community is outraged, not only at the violence of the act itself, but the fact that the police, who, to many blacks, represent the white institution, seem to be ignoring the situation. In one telling scene, E.T. gets into a fight with Erf’Quake over whether or not they should be searching for the killer themselves instead of waiting for the authorities.
But Carl, who is a proud believer in the “white Aryan resistance” movement, sees the media coverage as a prime opportunity to incite a culture war between blacks and whites, and this leads to the third major incident of black/white racism in “Love and Rockets X” – the kidnapping of E.T. Carl's plan is to commit another crime, even more shocking, which he hopes will get the same headline treatment and eventually incite a race riot in the city. But as the news coverage intensified, and the cries of outrage grew louder, Carl became increasingly paranoid. His plan to force Ben to murder E.T. is a final desperate act.But the story offers no tidy resolutions to the issue of black/white racial hostility. In the climactic scene at the end of chapter eight, when Charlie turns the gun on Carl, sparing E.T. in the process, he does so not out of a love for black people, or a willingness to better himself and end the cycle of racial hatred; rather, he does so simply because he hates Carl. Thus, the killing lacks any kind of moral, it is simply another act of violence, devoid of deeper meaning. Charlie himself isn’t even sure why he did it. In a telling final scene, he asks Ben to help him find justification for his actions. “I blew fucking Carl’s head open for a reason, man! Give me the reason, Ben!”
But the strained relations between blacks and whites are not the only form of ethnic tensions in “Love & Rockets X.” The prejudices against Latinos, Asians and other ethnic minorities, especially immigrants, are also a significant theme in the story.Racially insensitive comments about immigrants are made so often throughout the story, by so many different characters, one almost begins to accept them as normal conversation. For example, in the first chapter, Rex refers to Riri (who works as his housecleaner) as “that wetback chick” and demeans her, claiming that “they all look the same to me.” Later, while watching the news coverage of the Jesuit priest murders in El Salvador, Charlie proudly proclaims his racist ideology. “I say kill ‘em all! Kill all them beaners.” At Rex’s party, Igor (who is half-black and half-Mexican) is offended when another guest tells him a joke about Mexican women “giving two dollar blowjobs,” but when Igor mocks the joke’s teller, he acts surprised at Igor’s reaction, claiming that “this is a Hollywood party! I didn’t expect no Mexicans in here unless they were servants!” Igor’s father is also a victim of offensive ethnic jokes. His name, Jose Valdez, and the fact that he works at an Exxon gas station makes him the obvious target of many “oil spill” jokes.
The images of Latinos in the media, and how this affects racial attitudes, is also a major factor in this story. As he pointed out in the Comics Journal interview, "You're constantly reminded that you're not white in this country - by the system or whatever. I'm not saying by individuals, but in television and advertising, that sort of thing. Whites are normal and then there's everybody else" (TCJ #178). To illustrate this point, Gilbert contrasts two news stories, both of which are real world incidents which occurred at the time of the story's original publication, in order to explore the different ways the media influences society's views of minorities.
The first incident occurred on November 17, 1989, when six Jesuit priests, along with two domestic workers (a mother and daughter), were tortured, mutilated and murdered by unknown assailants in El Salvador after having spoken out against the government in favor of the FMLN, a small group of Communist rebels. The incident sparked an international outcry and, for a period of several weeks, occupied headlines in the United States. Although the killers were never caught, there was overwhelming circumstantial evidence, including eye witness reports, which suggest that the slayings were conducted by the Salvadoran army. The U.S. government, under the first Bush administration, officially condemned these murders, but did little else to pressure the Salvadoran government about the issue.
Thematically, the circumstances of these political murders are similar to Ofelia's experiences in Nicaragua in the second chapter of "Poison River" (in issue #30). In both cases, a small group of Communist rebels are attacked and murdered by a corrupt military dictatorship for speaking out against the government. Also, in both stories Gilbert condemns the U.S. government's foreign policy toward Central America, which ignores human rights violations committed by these corrupt governments against their own citizens in favor of ensuring its own selfish interests, including the preservation of military bases and weapons contracts.
Not surprisingly, the only characters who take real notice of this incident are the Latino characters. Riri is particularly affected, and despite Maricela's efforts to comfort her, she remains terrified that the violence in El Salvador will spread to Palomar. Igor's father is also angered by the incident; however his understanding of the facts are limited, and he buys into the US-centric notion that the rebels deserved their fate for speaking out against the Salvadoran government. But most of the characters, especially the white characters, display a jaded indifference toward the incident. They have become completely desensitized to the endless coverage of violence in foreign countries, and have no real emotional connection to the plight of the Salvadoran people. The only white character who seems affected by this incident is Mike Niznick, a documentary filmmaker who has spent considerable time in El Salvador. He expresses shock at the incident, but like Howard Miller, the reviled American photographer from "An American in Palomar" (in issues #16-17), his interest seems less motivated by a sense of frustrated justice than the opportunity for exploiting the suffering of others for his own artistic gain.
In stark contrast to the Jesuit priest murders, however, is another news-related incident: the crisis concerning the thousands of unwanted orphans in Romania. This story refers to the horrible Romanian state policy, in place for nearly two decades, which banned all forms of birth control and practically forced women to have as many children as they physically could. The policy was established in 1966 by Romanian dictator, Nicolae Ceausescu, in order to increase the nation's population from 23 million to 30 million by the year 2000. The goal was to create workers for the nation, but the reality was that parents were unable to care for these babies they were mandated to have. As a result, many were abandoned and the state's orphanage system was completely overwhelmed. There were stories of children kept in cages and all but completely neglected, emotionally and physically, and it wasn't until Ceausescu was executed in 1989 that the world began to learn about these atrocities.
Unlike the Jesuit priest murders, the reaction to this crisis among the white characters is one of distinct outrage. Cindy even goes so far as to claim that she will personally adopt one of the orphans herself though she is a complete failure as a mother to her own son (this particular idea still resonates today, with so many celebrities (Angelina Jolie, Madonna, Mia Farrow, etc.) continuing the trend of adopting babies from foreign countries). This reaction, as Kristen cynically points out to Maricela at the party, has caught the attention of the white upper/middle-class characters because the "crippled Romanian orphans" are white. Her underlying message is that the white people expressing shock at the crisis are nothing but hypocrites, and that the mainstream media contributes to this subtle form of racism.
3. The Effects of Immigration on American Society - In one of his most telling quotes in his Comics Journal interview with Neil Gaiman, Gilbert said of his stories, “I’m trying to get non-Latinos, for lack of a better word, to identify with Latinos as human beings. Simple as that. I think I’ve felt that since I was a kid” (TCJ #178). So it’s no coincidence that, in the very first chapter of this story, Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song” is playing on a car radio. "Love & Rockets X" is Gilbert’s version of the immigrant’s experience in America.
All of the examples of racism cited above are evidence of a certain attitude that exists in America which looks down on immigrants as second class citizens. Latino and Asian immigrants live on the periphery of society and are largely ignored by both the authorities and the media. They are seen as a necessary part of the economy, cheap laborers who perform the undesirable jobs (cleaning, construction, food service, etc.) but their inequality is guaranteed by the legal system which requires full citizenship status in order to enjoy the "inalienable" human rights promised in the Constitution.
Riri and Maricela are the most prominent immigrants in the story, and their experiences are representative of the overall immigrant experience in America. Riri is forced to work as a maid, cleaning houses for a wealthy white family, while Maricela sells flowers on a street corner. Both of these are the kind of demeaning jobs which very few white Americans would even consider taking, and are usually relegated to undocumented workers who can be paid sub-minimum wages without benefits. In addition, these workers are often mistreated by their employers because they are in a powerless position. On multiple occasions, we see Maricela’s nameless Japanese boss threaten to fire her if she catches her smoking or sitting down.
The constant fear of deportation is another major aspect of the immigrant experience, and in this story, there are many people who are willing to exploit this fear. For example, their landlord, Señor Romero, visits Riri and Maricela frequently, and, although the girls despise him, they feel compelled to cook him “special enchilada dinners” for fear that if they do not treat him well, he will report them. The legitimacy of this fear is justified in the first chapter, when Maricela recounts to Riri how “la migra (immigration police) came and got ol’ Joe Piña down the street.” Yet, despite these obvious injustices, illegal immigrants have little recourse. Their illegal status leaves them no choice but to endure these mistreatments silently or return to their home country. So it is not surprising that, in the penultimate chapter, Maricela is willing to risk everything, including her relationship with Riri, for the remote chance that Kristen’s father can actually offer her amnesty.But Gilbert's underlying message regarding the immigrant experience is focused on the wide disparity between the promise of the American dream and the country's failure in fulfilling that dream consistently for everyone. Despite the promise of wealth and freedom which led to wave after wave of immigration, America has never found a way to successfully integrate all of its immigrants into a fair and equal socio-economic system. Like Maricela and Riri, non-English speaking immigrants (or poor, uneducated inner city youth, like E.T. and Junior Brooks, for that matter) simply do not have the same education and job opportunities, and are forced into dead-end jobs selling flowers or delivering pizzas. Intelligent enough to understand that their options are limited, they grow frustrated and angry at the system under which they feel victimized and oppressed. The disenfranchisement of this lower class of blacks and immigrants inevitably leads to resentment toward the white middle-class majority.
4. Individual vs. the Community: Palomar as the Utopian Ideal –Yet in the middle of painting this cynical portrait of suffering and selfishness in America, Gilbert takes his readers on a most unexpected diversion back to Palomar in the seventh chapter (in issue #37). The last time readers had visited Palomar in the series was more than three years prior (at the end of "Human Diastrophism" in issue #26) and in that issue, the town seemed to be heading toward a crisis in which the outside world threatened to destroy its innocence and culture. However, several years later, it's clear that Palomar has remained largely unchanged. For its residents, however, life has moved forward five or six years, and in just four pages, Gilbert does his best Garcia-Marquez impression, catching his readers up on several years in the lives of his most familiar characters. The highlights include:
- Luba is still working as the Alcadesa (lady mayor) of Palomar and has two new children, twins named Joselito and Socorro. The boy, Joselito, is (perhaps) named after her brief but intense romance with Capitan Jose Ortiz in “Poison River.” She is also pregnant again, and is back together with Khamo (Doralis and Casimira's father), whose face is horribly scarred from his incident in the US when Tonantzin was killed (in the final chapter of "Human Diastrophism"). It’s not clear if they’re married or just living together.
- Guadalupe, who is now a teenager, is planning to go to the US as an exchange student, but she is also excited to visit her sister Maricela, who she has not seen in years. Pipo, who has started her own "sports wear business" is expanding to the US and is planning to accompany Guadalupe on her trip.
- Luba is still angry at Maricela for running away with Riri and instructs Guadalupe that if she sees her, to tell her that she's not welcome back in Palomar.
- Casimira, has a wooden arm which she hates to wear. Presumably she lost her real arm when Chelo shot her during the “monkey plague” (also in “Human Diastrophism,” back in issue #25).
- Pipo’s son, Sergio, has grown into a muscular, athletic young man who is very protective of his mother.
- Theo has also grown up and has a crush on Guadalupe.
- Carmen is also pregnant again.
Yet despite all of these fascinating developments, the real reason for this sudden and unexpected return to Palomar in the middle of "Love & Rockets X" is to contrast it against the version of the United States that Gilbert presented in the first six chapters. Palomar is the antithesis of the United States, an alternative to the materialistic, self-centered American lifestyle. Where the US represents a society based on “rugged individualism,” Palomar represents the opposite end of the spectrum, a community-centric society.
Our tour guide on this latest visit to Palomar is Steve Stransky, who last visited the town in “Human Diastrophism.” While the vast majority of the characters in L&RX are so completely immersed in their own lives that they’re incapable of seeing any kind of broader perspective, Steve is the only character who's above the typical American self-centeredness. He is the only white character able to comfortably interact with all different races and ethnicities (in the opening pages, we learn he is friends with Junior Brooks, a black teenager, and in the third chapter, Steve even refers to himself as the black men's “link to the honky mo’fo world”). Yet, Steve's fatal flaw is that he's too air-headed and stoned to realize the extent of the racism that surrounds him in LA. For example, at Rex's party, he foolishly deserts his black friends as soon as they arrive, making him indirectly responsible for the racist misunderstanding which occurred. Had Steve stayed with E.T., Erf’Quake and Junior Brooks, one assumes that the incident might not have escalated in quite the same way (though this was undoubtedly Gilbert’s intention).
It’s only after his near-death experience (the car crash following his ill-fated date with Riri) that Steve returns to Palomar in order to heal both mentally and physically. After several weeks away from the US, his head clears and he begins to regain some perspective on life. His immersion in the quiet village, with its tightly integrated community and complete isolation from Western consumerism, allows him to have his vision restored both physically (by receiving a new pair of glasses after his old ones are broken) and metaphorically (his ability to see beyond his own selfish needs). Steve’s transformation is confirmed when, in the final chapter, he suddenly departs Palomar so that he can make sure Mr. Kang, the Korean invalid living in the shed behind his house in LA, is cared for. Although a relatively minor gesture, Steve’s decision is as noble and selfless an act as we get in this story.
Maricela's experiences in the US are the mirror opposite of Steve's journey. When she and Riri abandoned Palomar, they left the joys and security of family and community behind, lured by the false promise of freedom and opportunity. However, Maricela quickly discovers that America (which Luba describes as “that awful place”) offers none of the familiar comforts and security of Palomar. Right from the start, the two girls struggle to make ends meet, while being constantly subjected to racism and the threat of deportation.
In the story's final chapter, Maricela is alone, angry and helpless, and it is only when her sister, Guadalupe, arrives that she realizes how much she has lost during her time in America. The final image of the two sisters reunited, with broad smiles beaming across their faces as they look at pictures of family members which she has not seen in years, is revelatory. Maricela has finally recovered a little of what she lost when she left Palomar.
Thus, in “Love & Rockets X,” Gilbert has elevated Palomar from a quaint, fictional village, where innocence is its primary charm, to a Utopian ideal in which government, media, technology and consumerism have not displaced the more important focus on family and community. In Palomar, the people are so concerned about their neighbors that even a homeless woman with two hungry children offers Steve a hot bowl of soup, a powerful sign of the selfless nature of its citizens. Wealth is not the driving motive of life in Palomar, and that, ultimately, is the fundamental difference between it and the United States. In Palomar, everyone is aware of their role in the larger community, and understands how their actions affect those of their neighbors.
5. Music
While music has always been a core inspiration for both Brothers’ since the very first issue, Gilbert’s use of music in this particular story is more intentional and thoughtful than in the past. Here, not only is music frequently used to define characters by their pop culture associations, it is also used in more subtle literary ways, often as a symbol of some underlying theme or idea.
Gilbert sprinkles his personal musical recommendations and philosophies throughout the story. The most prominent example is the lengthy discussion between Mike and Igor, in the fifth chapter, about the possibility that an Iggy Pop Hollywood biopic could ruin the artist’s legacy. Interestingly, in a story where one panel scenes are the norm, Gilbert devotes a full six panels (out of 45 in the chapter) to discuss the merits of Pop's early career with the Stooges versus his later years collaborating with David Bowie. Pop, whose early years are noted as much for his outrageous stage antics as for the actual music, is considered by many to be a pioneer, influencing an entire generation of punk musicians (ironically, the same is often said about Los Bros among cartoonists). He is credited with inventing the stage dive, performing shirtless, vomiting on stage, exposing himself to the crowd, and even consuming narcotics during a concert. His completely bizarre and aggressive behavior earned him a reputation as one of punk's true innovators, and although he struggled with a heroin addiction during much of this period, hardcore punk fans still revere his early work with the Stooges as the best of his career. That Hollywood filmmakers would leave out this part of Pop's career is blasphemous to true punk fans.
Another example of Gilbert personal musical philosophy is Steve’s rant against “alternative music” in the fourth chapter. Here, Gilbert, using Steve as a cipher, draws parallels between the punk scene of the early 80s and the rap movement of the early 90s. Steve condemns his fellow ex-punks as racists, accusing them of liking punk only as long as it was a predominately white scene. Yet with rap, despite the fact that the feelings of rage at the establishment are the same, the movement and the music are created by and aimed at a black audience, and therefore, "a lot of people who were hip to punk are saying that rap ain't music, it's repetitious, it all sounds the same, it's just noise.” Gilbert’s frustration with this knee-jerk dismissal of rap is further agitated by the success of the Beastie Boys (the "white joke band" that Steve refers to), the one rap group who crossed over to the mainstream alternative rock scene precisely because they were white.
In some cases, a particular song’s lyrics are used to underscore the deeper meaning or emotional theme of a scene. In addition to the use of Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song,” Gilbert incorporates the lyrics to Public Enemy’s “Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos,” (“the situation’s real…I got a raw deal…so I’m going for the steel…”) to emphasize the harsh realities of racism. The lyrics capture this rage and frustration, and underscore the growing sense of desperation and violence. In another scene, Riri is singing “I Miss You Much” by Janet Jackson while vacuuming Cindy’s living room. Here, the lyrics (“when I’m away too long, it makes my body hot…”) are less significant than the song’s title, which highlights her feelings of homesickness and foreshadows her eventual return to Palomar.
There are also several references to obscure punk bands, presumably some of Gilbert’s favorites, scattered throughout the story. For example, in the story's opening panel, we see a concert poster advertising Love & Rockets as the headliners of a concert; however, the opening acts are Nature Boy, which was the name of Jaime and Gilbert’s own punk band, and the Explosive Broomhandles, a little known, all-female punk band. In the third chapter, Cindy wears a Dolomite t-shirt, advertising the obscure acoustic punk band, while in the fifth chapter, at the party, Scotty is wearing an Old Skull t-shirt. Old Skull was a short-lived “novelty punk band” started by 10-year-old J.P. Toulon and his 9-year-old brother, Jaime, in Detroit in the late 80s. There are similar references to Can, Don & Dewey, The Insect Trust, Twisted Tonto and several others.
Gilbert also mocks 90s pop culture, making fun of certain musicians and groups. For example, the fact that Love & Rockets band member, Sean Ogata, is infatuated with Debbie Gibson and Tiffany is a comment on the band's lack of talent, and the general vapidity of pop music in general. In another example, this point is punctuated by a group of aggressive middle-school girls who proclaim that "New Kids on the Block are the best fucking music in the world ever," a statement which any reader familiar with the series' punk roots understands as ridiculous. And several times throughout the story, Gilbert takes aim at MTV, and the general ignorance of its devoted fanbase. In a hilarious example early in the story, a couple of teenage girls are chastised for having no clue who Paul McCartney is, or “what band he was in before Wings.” In general, these examples represent Gilbert’s disgust with the music industry’s move away from substance to a more appearance-based video culture where pretty faces and dance moves are more important than quality music.
But the most obvious and memorable musical reference in the story is Gilbert’s attack on the British alternative band, Love & Rockets, who infamously stole their name from Los Bros. Besides the story’s pointed title, one of the central characters, Igor Valdez, is clearly meant to physically resemble Daniel Ash, the lead singer of the British band. There are also several examples throughout the story where characters profess to have come up with the name Love & Rockets themselves, only to later be revealed as talentless hacks. Eventually each one of these characters goes off to form their own version of Love & Rockets, until, by the end of the story, Fontanel claims that “there must be at least twelve different Love and Rockets bands in this city alone. I…still like the first one best. That is, the real first one, the one the English band swiped the name from.”
Odds & Ends
Gilbert's Art - Of course, no analysis of this story would be complete without mentioning Gilbert's exceptional artwork. At this point in the series, Gilbert's linework is confident and controlled, and his mixture of patterns and textures is subtle but highly effective. His artwork has a lively feel, conveying the highs and lows of human emotion with an effortless grace and consistent effectiveness, and his backgrounds, while frequently sparse, are always contextually relevant and significant to the overall story (this is particularly true in the one or two-panel scenes). And while his brother Jaime takes much of the credit for his exceptional use of black and white, Gilbert also demonstrates a mastery of shading and balance in his panels, with many examples of black-spotting and silhouetting. Among his many strengths is his indefatiguable ability to create new and memorable characters, with distintinctive physical attributes and visual personality traits. According to Concrete's Paul Chadwick, Gilbert's "achieved a consistency in his character design worthy of a career Disney animator." He often employs what Douglas Wolk refers to as "the comedy of exaggeration," reverting back to cartoon figure poses and facial expressions to convey strong emotions (the "Fuck MTV" panel above is a typical example), but the balance is always carefully considered and never jarring or out of place. In short, Gilbert's cartooning in this story, as in "Poison River," is a revelation, and is only underrated because it is constantly, and unfortunately, compared and rated against his brother's.
The Trade Paperback - When first published as a trade paperback, "Love & Rockets X" was modified to six panels per page, a fundamental alteration to the story’s pace and flow. When asked about this by Neil Gaiman (in TCJ #178), Gilbert stated that the new format was Fantagraphics idea. “They were looking for a different package, a different format, a rock ‘n’ roll story....It is unusual…But that was their idea, and I think it turned out well. I’m very happy with the way it turned out.” Interestingly, in the most recent collection of the story (in Beyond Palomar, released in 2007), Fantagraphics reverted to the original nine-panel format.
In the same interview, Gilbert also mentioned that he added “just a few panels" to the collected edition; however, after comparing it with the original serialized version, several pages worth of new material were noted. These additions include:
- A new title page which included, for the first time, the sub-title “a rock ‘n’ roll headache.”
- A three panel scene of Mike lustfully eying a few young men after picking Kristen up from school. This scene makes the tension between father and daughter over Mike’s homosexuality more explicit early in the story, and implies that Mike is not as closeted as he appeared in the serialized version of the story.
- Immediately following this is another new three panel scene featuring Steve’s friend Gerry, surfing alone. His friend Pam asks him where Steve is, and we quickly cut away to a panel of Steve lying in bed with a massive erection, several bongs nearby, while Gerry claims it “must be love,” referring to Steve’s interest in Riri.
- A three panel scene establishing Sean and Carl as old friends. The two are shown joking about some old Black Sabbath albums Carl borrowed and never returned.
- A related scene shows Carl and Bambi discussing Sean. Carl teases Bambi for still having a crush on him, but she claims she’s not interested since “he’s Japanese…and my grandfather died at Pearl Harbor.”
- A three panel scene in which two jocks hit on Kristen, who is wearing a cheerleader uniform. When she rejects them both, they make fun of her father, calling him a “fag.”
- A three panel scene of Maricela and Riri discussing their plans to get pregnant. Maricela suggests ‘artificial insemination” but Riri is strongly against it, so they agree to try to seduce some men at the party.
- Three quiet panels of the ocean following Steve’s car accident.
- A six panel scene (shown above) expanding on E.T.’s kidnapping. In this scene we see Carl and Charlie force E.T. off the road, and then flash forward to his son and mother worrying that he has not come home from work.
- A three panel scene of Guadalupe and Pipo’s first experiences in America. The Vus, their Cambodian host family, take them to a carnival and to a shopping mall.
- Two pages at the end of the story featuring a “cast of characters” guide.
Locas Reference - The '74 Chevy Vega hubcap in the panel above is a subtle reference to Izzy Ortiz in Jaime’s Locas stories, who, on a couple different occasions, refers to the 74 Chevy Vega as a symbol for “the spirit of America.”
Meta-Narrative - Luba's mother, Maria, makes only a brief cameo in one panel (above) in the final chapter, but her presence in “Love & Rockets X” is noteworthy. It creates a significant link between this story and “Poison River.” This intersection between Gilbert’s two epics, as well as the implication that Scotty’s girlfriend (the psychotherapist with the lisp) is Maria’s daughter, and, therefore, Luba’s half-sister, also confirms that Gilbert is essentially treating all of his stories as one meta-narrative, a single world centered ultimately around Luba and her extended family. This, perhaps more than any other single fact, is what warrants such consistent comparisons of Gilbert’s work to that of Nobel-prize winning novelist Gabriel Garcia-Marquez.
Gilbert on the Final Chapter – The final chapter of L&RX is as condensed as a comic can possibly get. Of the 66 panels, 63 are separate scenes unto themselves, and many offer little more than a tiny snippet of dialogue or a moment of action or reaction to imply an entire sequence of events. Yet, despite this density, the story’s final page is eerily silent. The camera fades away from the final image of Steve walking alone along a beach (heading back to LA), pulling further and further back until even the earth itself appears as a tiny speck in the universe. There is a spiritual aspect to this ending, as the scene reminds us how small our lives are in the grander scheme, and how meaningless and petty our individual concerns are compared to the vastness of the universe.
It's a chilling ending, yet Gilbert, in Ten Years of Love & Rockets, seemed conflicted about this interpretation, calling it "goofy," and confessed to having difficulties finding the right way to conclude the story. “I wanted the last chapter of ‘Love and Rockets’ to sort of fade out; that’s why I have this goofy cosmic scene at the end, like we’re just dust motes in the universe. I came up with a lot of different ways I wanted to tell the story; first I thought ‘Maybe I should do it all in captions, give each character an internal voice that they use to tell what this story was all about for them.’ Then I thought, ‘That would make the ending really abrupt – maybe I should just show the characters living out their lives in silence.’ But that doesn’t resolve a lot of it, and you don’t get to see what people really feel about things – you just guess. Each way is valid; I just had to decide which one. I finally decided to end it the way the story’s been told since the beginning, but I’ve had a lot of problems with it.”
Conclusion
In essence, "Love & Rockets X" is Gilbert's version of "Human Diastrophism" in America. It is the artist's attempt to describe what American society looks like, how it functions and what are the primary forces that shape it. As with "Human Diastrophism," it is also an examination of the roles individuals play in that larger community. The dozens of characters featured are, individually, only pieces in a much larger puzzle, each representing one tiny facet of the social organism. Yet taken together, their individual stories paint a harsh portrait of a restless population wallowing in self-obsession.
What makes L&RX such an enduring classic is how accurately it captures these complexities of American society. The story is a street-level depiction of life in Los Angeles in the early 90s, but in Gilbert’s inimitable and increasingly cynical style, that reflection is exaggerated and distorted. The mirror the artist holds up for us is cracked; each panel is a jagged shard which, when studied carefully, reveals some tiny truth about life in America’s melting pot. The story directly addresses some of the most complex philosophical questions about society and culture, and, as a result, it requires careful scrutiny and multiple readings. As Douglas Wolk concluded, “the effort it demands from its readers echoes the slow and difficult process of understanding those forces.”
Perhaps the most compelling testament to just how accurate Gilbert’s portrayal of Los Angeles was is the fact that, in 1992, just a few months before the final chapter was published, the city was consumed by violence in response to the acquittal of four white police officers accused of using excessive force in the infamous beating of Rodney King. The media frenzy created by the videotaped assault sent shockwaves through the city, culminating in days of looting, violence and racial hostility. The intersections between art and life are so striking, the LA riots could almost be seen as “Love & Rockets” true final chapter.
Above all, “Love & Rockets X” still crackles with energy and excitement for comics as a literate medium (and was published at a time when the industry had barely begun to realize its true potential). Nearly thirty years later, it still feels new and daring, and, yes, sometimes it’s frustratingly dense, but the slog is ultimately worth it. It aggressively challenges all preconceived notions about what is possible in graphic novels, and it’s the kind of story that stays with you forever. Once you’ve read "Love & Rockets," you will never forget it, and, more importantly, you’ll never read anything quite like it. It’s a wholly unique and visionary work.
Yet despite everything I’ve written, great books are not just about themes and symbols, they're about images and ideas that burn themselves into your memory and make you feel something. They make you think, and challenge your ideas about yourself and the world around you. Perhaps the cartoonist David Choe said it best, when asked to summarize his feelings about "Love & Rockets" in the Winter 2001 issue of The Comics Interpreter, a tribute issue devoted entirely to Los Bros. "Farts, lesbo scenes, homo buttfuck scenes, zits and bad skin, race wars, punks, homies, vatos, violent beatings, puking, boners, interracial blowjob scenes, murder, love triangles, romance, drugs, hip hop, Ice-T, curse words, t-shirts that say 'smoke, drink, take drugs, wear fur and fuck,' people who scream 'I'll fuck anything that moves!', impotence, dirty nekkid kids running around, and a kid pissing on his dad's head. Can you see why a goofy acne-ridden teenager was so impressed and taken aback by this fucking work?"
