Shelf Life

Love & Rockets #15

2007-01-31T14:09:00.000-05:00

Love & Rockets #15
Originally released in January, 1986 by Fantagraphics Books, Inc., 32 pages, black and white with color cover.

CONTENTS
"At the Beach" by Jaime
"Holidays in the Sun" by Gilbert
"Queen Rena: Life at 34" by Jaime

"…in the mid-teen issues, the story there became only characters, no stories. After 'The Lost Women,' when I went into the 'Locas' stuff more, I was so into the characters that they were writing the stories, so there was no room for a plot, and I didn't realize it until 10 issues later or so."

-- Jaime Hernandez, from an interview in The Comics Journal #126, Jan. 1989

Before I get into analyzing the fifteenth issue, I want to spend just a few paragraphs talking about Jaime's art style, because I think this particular cover is an outstanding example of his increasingly economical approach. It's not a true minimalist style, as I've seen it referred to (that is a label better applied to artists like Ron Rege Jr. or John Porcellino), as there is clearly a lot of detail in the art, and the characters are realistic and nuanced. Rather, it's Jaime's ability to convey so much with so little that is at the heart of what makes his art so special. For example, look at Rena's eyebrows. They are not dozens of lines, representing individual hairs, but merely two thick brushstrokes; so clean, yet so expressive. Similarly her nose is little more than two ink splotches, looking nothing like a real nose, yet perfectly representing the subtle shape of the feature. In general, Jaime uses very few extraneous hash marks, shading or textures in his characters' features, and yet, thanks to his uncanny ability to portray facial expressions, figure poses, body shapes and movement, the characters always appear believably real and wholly individual. The further I get into this series, the more I feel myself falling in love with Jaime's art style, as so many have before me.

I also found it interesting to compare how far Jaime has come in just fifteen issues. The two panels above are a good contrast. On the left is a very early drawing of Maggie from the first issue. Besides the obvious difference in backgrounds, notice how the drawing appears much more cartoonish, and her features more generic. The panel on the right, from issue #13, features Maggie in a very similar pose, though her appearance is much more developed, with sharper, more distinguished features. Her eyes, mouth and hairstyle are more defined, as is the actual shape of her head, which is a little more rounded than the panel on the left. Even her clothing is much more stylized and unique.

Also notice the subtle way that Maggie's body shape has changed. She has clearly put on ten, maybe fifteen pounds. Anyone who has seen a woman who has put on a little extra weight will be amazed at how precisely Jaime manages to capture the shape and proportions of an overweight body. The butt, stomach, breasts and even face and limbs are never exaggerated into grotesque caricatures, but rather are kept realistic and precise. Cellulite is applied in just the right proportion, without seeming gratuitous (notice the subtle change in Maggie's thighs and butt in the two panels). In fact, Jaime's eye for women's body types continues to underscore his storytelling. Maggie's weight struggles (which I suspect will become even more of a theme down the road) are an integral part of her personality, and it's obvious that even from the very first issue, this was something Jaime had considered.

The fifteenth issue features three short, self-contained stories. Each expands upon the backgrounds of certain core characters (while others, like Penny Century and Rand Race, are receding into the background), and each demonstrates the increasingly confident and assured writing by both brothers. First, in "At the Beach," Jaime takes us deeper into the world of the Locas. Similar to the last issue, this chapter simply follows Hopey and Maggie around on a normal day in their lives. Not much happens, yet the characters are such likable, interesting people, you really don't mind just hanging out with them. It's fun just getting to know them a little better.

Maggie and Daffy are enjoying a girl's day out at the beach, chatting about marriage and basking in the sun, when Hopey and Izzy show up and ruin it. First, Izzy tells an absolutely horrific story about her cousin who used to torture cats by binding their tails together with wire and hanging them over a clothes line until one would finally eat the other (see above). So disturbing is this analogy of marriage, it scares Daffy off, yet it is just one of Izzy's many bizarre eccentricities which make her one of Jaime's more interesting characters. In the meantime, despite Maggie's protests, Hopey convinces her to fix Mr. Lopez's fruit truck. While working on the car, Maggie meets Correo, one of the Lopez's cousins who is in the U.S. illegally. The two flirt, but Mrs. Lopez warns Correo to stay away from Maggie.

Meanwhile, Hopey goes to band rehearsal, and the group struggles to come up with a new name after realizing that "Missiles from October" has already been taken. After a brief argument, Terry storms out and Hopey follows her. The two end up getting into an argument about Maggie, in which Terry, in a roundabout way, confesses her love for Hopey, asking "what does Maggie have that I don't?"

One theme that I find continually fascinating in the Locas stories is the ambiguity of the exact relationship between Hopey and Maggie. Are they lovers, or merely friends? Do they sleep together, or just share a bed? It seems like Hopey is in love with Maggie, but is it reciprocal? Hopey and Maggie have never acknowledged themselves as dating, and Maggie continually falls in love with men, while Hopey is clearly gay, or at least bisexual. To this point in the series, Jaime has played coy with the readers, never explicitly stating the nature of their relationship, yet constantly hinting at an affection that goes deeper than your average friendship.

Next, Gilbert's "Holidays in the Sun" picks up where "The Laughing Sun" left off (in L&R #8-9). After Jesus' fight with his ex-wife Laura turned violent, injuring their baby in the process, he was sent to a supervised prison labor camp on an unnamed island. In this story, Jesus has presumably been there for several months and is barely holding himself together.

There's a lot of interesting psychology going on in this story, as Jesus is continually haunted by his past, yet still prefers the escape of his tortured memories to the horrors of his present reality. The strip opens with Jesus once again fantasizing about Luba, only to find that just as their imagined sexual encounter heats up, Luba is replaced with his ex-wife Laura. After the same thing happens again, Jesus finds that he prefers to fantasize about Tonantzin, who he also had a brief affair with, just to keep his ex-wife from making an unexpected appearance. Even Jesus' bizarre brother Toco, who died all the way back in the fourth issue, shows up in the background a couple of times to remind Jesus of just how much of his life he has lost to his violent tempers.

Nested within Jesus' story is the tragic background tale of Obregon, a fellow prisoner who befriends Jesus after he tries to save him from a beating. Obregon, who is missing his right arm, is also overcome with hatred for his ex-wife, who left him and ran off with their lawyer. He is constantly trying to escape the island so he can exact his revenge, but Jesus always talks him out of it, reminding him that he only has 26 months left on his sentence. Yet, eventually Obregon's grief and anger consumes him and he hangs himself. When Jesus discovers his body, it is the straw that broke the camel's back, and even his fantasies about Luba and Tonantzin can no longer provide the escape he so desperately seeks. By the end of the story, he is a shell of his former self.

There is so much complex characterization and thematic construction here worth analyzing. Gilbert's handling of the homosexuality that is rampant in prisons seems sympathetic rather than clichéd. The prison culture is also much less dramatized and brutal than one would expect from watching movies and TV depictions. The prisoners move relatively freely around the island and interact with each other with minimal supervision and, while guards do keep watch, they do not seem to dominate the prisoners.

At one point late in the story, Jesus receives a letter from Heraclio (we actually saw Heraclio writing this very letter three issues ago, in "The Reticent Heart," which demonstrates just how connected all of these stories are to each other). When another prisoner comes in and casually refers to Heraclio as "a sissy accordion teacher" Jesus loses his temper, unleashing the full force of his anger at the world, punching him in the face. Though it is Jesus who ultimately loses this fight, it is a clear and chilling example of just how depressed and misguided he is, yet also how human. Heraclio is one of Jesus' only true friends, and certainly a role model, and that he would go to such violent extremes to protect his honor is both foolish and admirable.

Gilbert's art also continues to show signs of maturation. In this panel, Obregon is strongly reminiscent of a Will Eisner character, with his leathery, wrinkled face, large, distant eyes and long, broad nose.

Gilbert also experiments with some silent cartooning, a technique that works particularly well for the internal memory style of this particular scene. First, in the page above, we see Jesus' domestic fight with Laura that led to his incarceration. On the following page, Gilbert also shows us another violent outburst when Jesus first arrives at the prison and sees Obregon being brutally beaten by two guards. Both of these violent flashbacks are shown in silent, nine panel grids, on opposing pages, contrasting the harsh consequences of Jesus' violent temper. In addition, the use of silence to illustrate these particular memories actually makes them more powerful, as the reader feels the haunting effects these memories have on Jesus, as if these are the images that keep flashing through his troubled mind.

Overall, "Holidays" is certainly the highlight of this issue, and I would put it up there with "Ecce Homo" and "The Laughing Sun" as one of Gilbert's best stories to this point in the series. This is as chilling a character portrait as he has written to date and the ability to take us right into Jesus' fragile state of mind and show us his instability and widely varying emotions is a stunning accomplishment. Jesus is one of the most fascinating characters in the Heartbreak Soup series and his humanity really shines through in this tale.

Finally, Jaime's "Queen Rena: Life at 34" is an odd little eight-page vignette set in Rena Titañon's past. The story opens to a younger, fitter Rena chasing a well-dressed man named Sharkey Horwitz across the Mexican wasteland near the U.S. border. Though we don't really know much about Sharkey, we learn that he apparently beat up his girlfriend, Rosey, stole her money, and was attempting to escape into the U.S. Though Rena was chasing him, she would not have caught him without the help of the local sheriff, Bull Marie. We first met Bull Marie all the way back in L&R #3 and, though she has remained a minor character to this point, we do know that she and Rena are wrestling rivals and sworn enemies.

Rena's much-alluded-to relationship with Bernie Carbo is once again hinted at, though again very little new information is revealed. Jaime does let us see a brief conversation from their attempt at a first date, in which Bernie confesses that he has been attracted to Rena ever since the bar fight in New Keops (he is referring to the fight from "Little Monster" in the last issue), but their date is interrupted before it really starts when Rena learns that the charges have been dropped and Sharkey has been released from prison.

Once again, Jaime leaves readers with more questions than answers. Who is Sharkey Horwitz and why is Rena chasing him across the desert? What is their connection to each other (the two are obviously familiar with one another)? What is the nature of the rivalry between Rena and Bull Marie? What happened to cause Rena and Vicki Glory to break up as partners and become rivals? And what exactly is the nature of the relationship between Rena and Bernie Carbo? There is much more story than we are actually shown here, and while we do learn a little more about Rena's past, the scene feels incomplete, like the middle chapter of a novel taken out of context, with many important details left out.

Though Jaime's art is as solid and consistent as usual, there is really very little to distinguish this particular vignette. The entire story is told using an 8 panel grid, an interesting choice which Jaime uses to experiment a little with pacing and scene transitions. The panel above stood out simply for Jaime's excellent use of lighting to illustrate the shadows across Sharkey's face as he is loaded into the paddy wagon and arrested.

Love & Rockets #14

2007-01-20T11:45:00.000-05:00

Love & Rockets #14
Originally released in November, 1985 by Fantagraphics Books, Inc., 32 pages, black and white with color cover.

CONTENTS:
"An American in Palomar (Part 2)" by Gilbert
"Locas en las Cabezas" by Jaime
"The Little Monster" by Jaime

"One of my clunkiest stories is 'An American in Palomar.' If I did it now I would be 60% better, just because I know what I'm doing now. I'm more confident. At the time, I wasn't that confident in doing that story…I wasn't sure what I wanted to say in it. I've got a lot of pages that I took out and re-did, just to make the story clearer."

-- Gilbert Hernandez, from an interview in The Comics Journal #126, Jan. 1989

In the concluding chapter of "An American in Palomar," Gilbert shows us photographer Howard Miller's true colors. While he seemed like a relatively innocuous artist in the first chapter, here he is much more despicable, ignorant of Palomar's culture and condescending to its residents. First he takes advantage of Tonantzin, sleeping with her (though she is more than willing), taking several rolls of photographs of her, and finally misleading her to believe that his book might open the door for her to break into Hollywood. Later in the same day, Miller also manages to offend Luba, when rather than photograph her family, who have spent all morning getting dressed in their nicest clothes, he informs her that it was the gritty, working class, impoverished look that he wanted for his book, not a posed family portrait.

As Gilbert addresses in the quote above, the story is "clunky" and feels forced at times, but the main point about the objectification of minorities by white America comes through loud and clear. Howard Miller is undoubtedly a racist. His book project was already fleshed out in his mind long before he set foot in Palomar. His field photography was just his attempt to stage images to fit the stereotypical vision he already had in mind, rather than to present a realistic and well-rounded portrait of a small Latino community.

Where the story breaks down is that Gilbert never really fully develops Howard Miller into a real person. He is, instead, more of a symbol of all ignorant, exploitative white people, without any deeper character traits. Both the narrator and the many residents of Palomar Miller comes in contact with feel such revulsion for him, there's really no room for readers to form their own opinion. In the beginning of the second chapter Gilbert refers to Miller as "the jaded, self-proclaimed aesthetic genius" and proceeds to treat him with such disdain, literally having Augustin (Carmen's younger brother) and his gang of thugs beat him up, that readers have no choice but to share in their hatred. It's almost as if he was created out of anger, simply to attack white people who don't understand Latinos, a backlash toward the discrimination that Gilbert may have felt growing up as a Latino in America.

Yet by making Miller such a one-dimensional character, it is almost too easy to hate him. He feels like a comic book villain rather than a real person, someone so obviously bad that there's really no room for growth or character development. The story suffers from this heavy-handed approach, and comes across as spiteful and angry. However, I don't think this was Gilbert's intent. In the Comics Journal interview, Gary Groth asks Gilbert "how much of an exploiter did you mean to make Howard Miller? Did you mean to condemn him?" to which Gilbert answers "No, I just really wanted to make a bad artist. He did think Palomar was lovely, but I didn't really emphasize that, I was always having him put it down. Like a lot of foreigners in poorer countries." Perhaps, more than anything else, this was simply too grand a theme for Gilbert to have fully fleshed out yet, particularly when one considers how early in the series this is (both brothers are, after all, still honing their storytelling skills), and in future issues, I expect Gilbert will explore the idea of race relations, and even the author's dual identity as a Latin-American, further.

Also worth noting in the three-panel sequence above is Gilbert's excellent pacing of the fight scene. Whereas many comic artists may draw an attack like this out over several pages, choreographing each punch and filling the pages with violence, Gilbert cleverly accelerates the action, showing just one brutal kick in the second panel. The full force of the attack is made clear in the third panel, as the splatter of heavy ink lines implies Miller's loss of consciousness.

One other thing that stood out in this chapter was just how small, and how isolated, Palomar truly is. While it's always been obvious that these stories take place in a small village, I don't think it fully hit me until this issue just how tiny it is. There might only be 200 total residents in Palomar, though Gilbert has not established the exact number yet. Also, despite being driving distance from a large city, the town is clearly isolated from the modern world. In the panel above, Guadalupe's reference to "normal people" implies that the residents of Palomar have very few interactions with the outside world, and that "white people" are a rare curiosity that the children know little about. In another telling scene from last issue, Luba asks Howard what happened to the famed martial arts actor Bruce Lee. All the villagers loved his movies, and no one knows why they stopped making them. When Miller informs Luba of his untimely death several years before, she is stunned. The news never made it to Palomar, and Luba doesn't want to be the one to break it to them.

In Jaime's "Locas en las Cabezas," Izzy makes a deal with Maggie that if she fixes her car, Maggie can have it, but on one condition: Maggie has to let her drive it one last time to the doctor. Maggie, who is too poor to afford a "carro" of her own, eagerly agrees. But while Izzy is using the car, she crashes it into "Spooky the Smokey's wall" (which Hopey, the reformed graffiti artist, is only too familiar with). Maggie is at work at the time, and when she returns home early, excited about driving her new car so she can finally see Hopey's band perform, she is disappointed to find the car missing. Still, determined to see the show, Maggie decides to walk to the club, but on the way she runs into Speedy and a few of his friends hanging out and drinking beers in a garage. Speedy invites her to hang out, and of course Maggie gets drunk, loses track of time, and misses the gig. When she finally realizes what time it is, she convinces Speedy to drive her to the club and on the way, they spot her new car crashed into the wall.

While only six pages, this story gives readers a good glimpse into the daily lives of Maggie and Hopey, as well as a snapshot of life in Hoppers 13. While the plot is pretty light (there is no real conflict or dramatic arc), the characters take over the story as Jaime continues to flesh out their relationships with each other. Hopey's life revolves around two things: Maggie, and her band, the "Missiles of October." As the chapter opens, the two girls are hanging out in Izzy's back yard while Hopey practices her bass playing. In the panel above, note how the costumes for each character play such a huge role in defining their personalities. Hopey's ballerina-style dress and sunglasses fit perfectly with her aggressive, 'I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks' personality, while Izzy's all black, hooded cloak gives her that creepy, brooding look, a cross between a Goth and a nun.

There are so many smaller, subtler, yet wonderfully portrayed character moments in this story that it's clear the Locas are really starting to come to life for Jaime. The dialogue feels more natural than earlier issues, and the characters themselves continue to develop and become more rounded and realistic. For example, Jaime gives us a few different glimpses into the audience's reactions to Hopey's band and for the most part, people seem to hate them. We also see that Maggie is a well-meaning, but irresponsible friend, having been so easily distracted by Speedy that she forgot to go to Hopey's show, although we know from past issues that there is a mutual attraction between Speedy and Maggie. There is also clearly some tension between Terry and Hopey after the incident last issue in which Terry refused to let Hopey and Maggie stay with her. While there is still so much we don't know about Maggie, Hopey, Izzy and the rest of the Locas cast, the storytelling potential feels unlimited and it's clear that Jaime's becoming more confident writing these characters.

Finally, "The Little Monster" is the story of a dwarf woman wrestler named India Chala. The story is told in a flashback fifteen years later by Rena Titañon to her old friend Joe Van Nuys, who brings Rena the sad news of India's death. Rena and India were friends and wrestling colleagues back in the days when Rena and Vicki Glory were tag team partners and international champions. Yet Vicki never liked India, giving her the derogatory nickname "little monster."

In the flashback, Rena recalls the disastrous night in New Keops when, after a particularly grueling match, she is coaxed into going on a dinner date with Duke Morales (Duke was Maggie's boss in "Mechanics" way back in L&R #2). That same night India had also won a hard fought match, but had broken the leg of her opponent in the process. Feeling guilty over what had happened, India goes out on her own to Bubba's and gets drunk. Later that evening, when Rena and Duke arrive at Bubba's, the whole bar is abuzz about a fight between Crusher Gaines, another wrestler and local thug, and "the little monster," and when Crusher comes running through the bar with a gun threatening to kill India, Rena jumps in and saves her just in time.

This story feels like a significant step forward in Jaime's writing skills. Within just 10 pages, he not only creates a new and compelling character, but also manages to tell her entire life story. Little Monster is a tragic character, whose physical deformities led to a tough life filled with discrimination and hatred. Through wrestling she was able to get out some of her rage at the world, but ultimately her anger was too great for even the sport she loved. In the end, Rena tells Joe that India was deported after the fight with Crusher and ended up working side shows to scrape together a living, a tragic fate that somehow befits her story perfectly.

Jaime handles this difficult character with sensitivity and maturity. His treatment of India's physical deformities, both in the writing and visuals, is respectful, never turning her into a caricature, nor resorting to traditional clichés or stereotypes of dwarves. In fact, India Chala feels like a real person, and one who the artist had great respect for, despite her tragic ending. It is also clear that Rena remembers her fondly, feeling sorry for her, but also describing her with a certain sense of admiration and respect as she recounts her life to Joe.

Jaime also continues to astonish me with his ambitious and creative panels. In this example above, the fluidity of the body language as Rena grabs Crusher Gaines from behind and narrowly prevents him from killing India is phenomenal. There is a definite sense of motion in the panel, despite its stillness, and the awkward way that Rena grabs Crusher around the waist, flinging herself backward, as only a true wrestler could, is perfectly illustrated, complemented with impact and motion lines, but not overwhelmed with them, as so many comic artists seem to do when illustrating fight scenes. The choreography and artistry of this single panel is impressive.

Similarly, this excellent splash panel shows Rena in agony on the wrestling mat. The way Jaime alters the panel borders and uses a horizontal linear style to denote that this is an image viewed on an old TV set is well-crafted. The look of agony on Rena's face, as well as the ominous looking, perfectly rendered hightop boot, with its skull and cross bones, also convey the intensity of the scene, and the single rope in the background is all that is needed to define the setting. It's such a powerful panel, and Jaime makes it look easy.

Love & Rockets #13

2007-01-07T17:42:00.013-05:00

Love & Rockets #13
Originally released in September, 1985 by Fantagraphics Books, Inc., 32 pages, black and white with color cover.

CONTENTS:
"Locas" by Jaime
"Boys Will Be Boys" by Gilbert
"La Toña" by Jaime
"Young Locas" by Jaime
"An American in Palomar (Part 1)" by Gilbert

"Well, there seems to be some confusion surrounding the ethnicity of the main characters in the "Locas" Universe, so here's a handy-dandy list of their national origins. Cut it out and paste it up next to your "Heartbreak Soup" pronunciations.

Maggie – Mexican
Izzy – Mexican
Penny – Mexican
Hopey – Colombian-Scottish
Daffy – Japanese
Terry – German-English"

-- Jaime Hernandez, from the letters column in Love & Rockets #13

As the series continued to gain in popularity, winning over fans and garnering critical praise, it's clear that both Gilbert and Jaime were having a lot of fun with their creations. There's a definite playfulness and sense of humor running throughout this issue, from the self-labeled nicknames each brother uses to credit their stories (i.e. Jaime "King of the Hustle" Hernandez, or Gilbert "Dr. Love" Hernandez) to the continuing array of guest stars that pop up in the background (in this issue, Crumb makes another appearance).

And then there's Roy Cowboy.

Though this bizarre character only appears in the very first panel, and has literally nothing to do with the Locas universe, his cheeky introduction gives the whole story the feel of a Saturday morning children's sitcom. The ironic part is that this chapter of Locas actually deals with some very adult themes – relationships, careers, financial issues, friendships, jealousy, trust, etc. – that are far more complex than any children's show would dare to address, yet the introduction by Roy Cowboy just indicates that while Jaime is telling serious stories, he doesn't want anybody to take these stories too seriously.

The story picks up where the six-part "Mechanics" epic (in L&R #6-11) left off and, other than in a few notable flashback scenes, this is the first time we've really seen Hopey and Maggie together since the first issue. As we follow them around town, running errands and catching up after several months apart, we learn more about each of them, and their ambiguous relationship.

First we learn that Maggie and Hopey have apparently been living at Izzy's house but need to find a new place to stay. Unfortunately, now that Maggie has quit her mechanic job, she and Hopey can't really afford to get their own place, so they decide to ask Terry if they can stay with her. However, Terry has a crush on Hopey and resents Maggie for "stealing away the heart of her favorite girlfriend," so she makes up an excuse that she only has room for one person not two.

This puts Maggie in a foul mood, and indirectly leads to a fight after Hopey reveals that the real reason Penny Century hates Rand Race so much is that he got her pregnant and then abandoned her (Penny started to tell Maggie about this right before she left for her adventure in Chepan, back in L&R #6, but never finished the story). Maggie doesn't take this news well at all. At first, she doesn't believe it, then she gets mad at Hopey and storms off. Later, at Izzy's house, Maggie considers breaking up with Hopey and moving out on her own, but Izzy talks her out of it, encouraging her to try to empathize with how traumatic it was for Hopey to learn her best friend had died, only to find out later it was not true. Maggie decides to give it another chance and the two quickly reconcile.

While this was one of the better installments of Locas to date, focusing more on the central characters and their relationships, the true selling point continues to be Jaime's outstanding artwork. This incredible panel in the barber shop might just be my favorite single panel of Jaime's to date. There is such a masterful sense of place. Every detail, from the spotted wallpaper, the coat rack in the corner, the black leather waiting chairs and the rustled through magazine pile, to the barber shop chairs with the hydraulic lifts and foot pedals and even the hair clippings on the ground, all create such a realistic setting, you almost feel like you've been in this very shop. Even Leo himself looks just like a barber in both his outfit and demeanor.

Jaime also does an excellent job varying his camera angles and perspectives from panel to panel, to keep what is, essentially, a normal conversation, visually interesting. In many of the panels, he pushes Hopey and Maggie into the background and brings other visual elements into the foreground in order to establish a sense of perspective. For example, in the panel above, after the two girls leave the department store where Terry works, we see the girls as if we were a customer in the store, looking past the mannequins and out through the windows at Hopey and Maggie. Jaime's cleverly uses a sketchy technique for Hopey and Maggie to indicate the presence of the window.

Similarly, in this panel, we see a random pedestrian in the foreground, while Hopey and Maggie are in silhouette, deep in the background, wandering down an alleyway. Notice Jaime's excellent use of body language in the carefree way that Hopey has her arms fully extended, as if she truly just doesn't care what anyone else thinks. It's such a subtle touch, but really does capture the punk nature of her personality. And though it's probably an irrelevant detail, one can't help but wonder about the woman in the foreground, crying and clinging to a copy of "Hambone Funnies."

Gilbert takes us back to Palomar for a short five page story appropriately titled "Boys Will Be Boys." Anacleto, an eligible bachelor, is escorted around town by Heraclio and Pepo, trying to find him a woman. One by one, the three guys discuss several of Palomar's women as only three guys could. That's the extent of the plot, but the beauty of this story is in the reactions the guys have to each woman. One by one they discuss the widow Tiburcia (a new character), Luba ("good looking, but way too stacked"), Donna Villasenor ("just a kid") and Sheriff Chelo ("a fine, strong woman indeed"). When Carmen, Heraclio's wife passes by, the two don't immediately reveal to Anacleto who she is, allowing Anacleto to insert his foot into his mouth, but they end up having a good laugh about it. Finally the boys encounter Tonantzin, and despite Pepo and Heraclio's discouragement, Anacleto is immediately stricken.

Like his brother, Gilbert is an expert at integrating certain cartoon elements into his stories. For example, in the page above, notice Anacleto's exaggerated body language as he reacts to Tonantzin's beauty. In the second panel, he's literally stopped dead in his tracks, toes lifted, arms straight, eyes wide. Similarly, in the fourth panel, Anacleto is literally stiff as his friends drag him away. Notice also the hearts and sweat beads in the fourth panel. All of these subtle visual elements are typical cartoon tactics used to show emotion, but what makes them noteworthy is the way they're seamlessly applied into the otherwise more realistic world of Palomar.

Similarly, Gilbert's facial expressions are also becoming more exaggerated and animated than in past strips. In the two panel sequence above, notice the dramatic change in Tonantzin's facial expression when Anacleto approaches her. The effect is further enhanced by the use of sound effects and bold ink lines. These are excellent uses of cartooning fundamentals.

"La Toña" is a quick one page check-in on the whereabouts of Rena Titanon, and reveals her returning to a Gone With The Wind-style mansion estate with Tse Tse, the translator from the classic "Mechanics" story in L&R #2.

The three page "Young Locas" is Jaime's portrait of the mechanic as a young girl. Thirteen year old Maggie Chascarillo is considering quitting her job as a mechanic down at Sal's Garage after her friend Letty confides in her that "a lot of people think (she's) kind of weird." But before Maggie has the chance, Harvey, the lead mechanic and Maggie's boss, gives her the opportunity to upgrade from working on cars and TVs to an actual spaceship. Too excited to pass up this golden opportunity, Maggie decides to keep the job.

I continue to be impressed with how much story and background material both brothers are able to cram into a small amount of pages without ever overwhelming the readers. For example, the awesome panel above tells you so much about Hopey without saying anything (not to mention making a great statement about mainstream comics). Similarly, in just three pages, we learn that not only was Maggie forced to move in with her Aunt Vicki after her mother and sister moved out of town, but, tacked on as an afterthought in the last two panels, Maggie's best friend, Letty, was killed in an auto accident.

Finally, the issue closes with the first part of Gilbert's "An American in Palomar." When Howard Miller, an American photo-journalist looking for a big story, comes to Palomar, the town is instantly abuzz. But the reactions to Miller's arrival appear to be mixed. Some, particularly the women, are flattered by Miller's attention. Chelo brags to Carmen and Tonantzin that Miller told her she was "more exciting to photograph than any nude he's ever had to do!" As the panel above clearly illustrates, Tonantzin is immediately star-struck, seeing Miller's arrival as her possible ticket into the world of Hollywood. Even Luba is only too happy to pose for Miller.

Although Howard Miller seems like a decent enough guy, Gilbert makes it clear that we should resent him as an exploitative, dispassionate intruder who cares only about himself and his career. He writes, "With years of experience freelancing for various geographic magazines behind him, Howard Miller is familiar with his chosen source material while jaded by it as well..." He goes on to describe the Palomar residents as "Just another group of Indians and blacks and whatevers to him…He believes it is his 'aesthetic genius,' however, that will make all the difference." As if to support this narrative disdain, Miller is led by Theo into an ancient ruin just outside of Palomar. While taking photographs, Miller becomes lost inside the darkened shrine and is taunted by several unseen residents of the town. "Go back home…fucking gringo," they shout, "What the hell do you think we are? A freak show?"

Yet despite this clear resentment toward Miller, it's never clear just what it is that he did to upset the people of Palomar (at least not yet, as this is only part 1 of 2). In the limited scenes we have here, none of Miller's actions seem in the least bit exploitative. In fact, he comes across as overly respectful and chivalrous, first helping Tonantzin to her feet after she is attacked by a group of teenagers out to steal her babosas, and later politely asking for Luba's permission to photograph her and her daughters outside the town cinema. We are led to believe that others are more suspicious of Miller's intentions but we never actually see this reaction from anyone. The end result is that Gilbert's narration seems to diverge from the events in the actual story, resulting in a disconnected, inconsistent feeling. Ultimately, all of these confusing aspects of Howard Miller's character may be resolved in the second act, but this first part left me feeling a little confused.

Love & Rockets #12

2006-12-31T19:56:00.006-05:00

Love & Rockets #12
Originally released in July, 1985 by Fantagraphics Books, Inc., 32 pages, black and white with color cover.

CONTENTS:
"Slug Fest" by Gilbert
"Rocky's Birthday Surprise" by Jaime
"The Reticent Heart" by Gilbert

"My wife Carol told me a story about how her dad was working in New Guinea on oil rigs, and they hired some of the local guys. One day they all dropped their shovels, and they started yelling in whatever language it is, and one guy ran up a tree, and grabbed this huge slug, and they were all really happy, because it was a prime delicacy. Where stories like that repulse most people, I thought 'That's a great story!'"

-- Gilbert Hernandez, from an interview in The Comics Journal #126, January 1989

After a brief absence last issue, Heartbreak Soup returns with not one, but two stories. The first is "Slug Fest" which, as you no doubt gleaned from the cover, introduces "babosas," the fried banana slugs which are "a prime delicacy" in Palomar.

This story is also the first to bring Tonantzin Villasenor forward as a central character. Consistent with her two previous appearances as a background character (in "The Laughing Sun" and "Ecce Homo"), Gilbert portrays her as a very sexually liberated woman. The story opens with Tonantzin waking a masked Mexican wrestler named "El Clavo" who she apparently just met three hours before. After ditching him, Tonantzin, her younger sister Diana, and their young neighbor, Theo, go out in search of the babosas, which Tonantzin is apparently famous for (there is a reference to her having cooked babosas for 42 hours straight to feed a village of earthquake victims).

Two things stand out in this particular story. First is the playful, mischievous and somewhat irresponsible dynamic between Tonantzin and her sister Diana. It's not yet clear if the two have parents, or if Tonantzin is responsible for raising her sister, but, given her promiscuity, it's hard to imagine Tonantzin as mature enough to handle motherhood in any form. For example, as the two sisters are walking back to Palomar, Tonantzin recalls how Sheriff Chelo ruined one of her dates when she decided to enforce a law requiring that all skirts worn in Palomar exceed a certain length. Diana, in response, tears off her own skirt and streaks down the street in her underwear, proclaiming herself too young to be bound by the law, playfully mocking her older sister. While this is only a brief scene, and, as with all of the Palomar characters, there is an implication of a much deeper history than what is portrayed in the story, Gilbert does present us with a pair of sisters who are at once loving and loyal to each other, but also equally irresponsible and immature.

Gilbert's mocking narrator voice is also worth noting. Stronger and more present than in past Palomar stories, Gilbert seems to intrude upon his own stories, commenting sarcastically about the characters and their actions. For example, in the final panel, pictured above, Gilbert takes over Tip'in Tip'in and speaks directly to the readers through him, mocking the events that just transpired. While this use of narration is effective in conveying a certain sense of playfulness, it also undermines the fictional world and pulls the reader out of the story.

"Rocky's Birthday Surprise" is Jaime's fifth and longest installment of the semi-recurring sci-fi fantasy. For Rocky's sixteenth birthday, her mother sends her into the city to spend some time with her old sister, Rhoda, whose daughter, Needra, is about the same age as Rocky. Excited to be venturing off her parent's farm, Rocky is thrilled, but after spending an afternoon wandering around aimlessly with Needra, the two become bored. That boredom quickly passes, however, when the two girls discover a portal to the universe in Needra's back yard.

Though Needra is afraid, Rocky and Fumble venture into the portal, arriving at the bizarre planet Brotos, a world where any and all comic book archetypes, from superheroes to robots to cartoons to newspaper strips, live harmoniously. As soon as they arrive, however, Fumble is kidnapped and Rocky, with the help of Cheetah Torpeda, a comically incompetent female superhero, and Mr. Bakers (pictured above), a strange mixture of Charlie Brown, Ziggy and the Honey Nut Cheerios bee, venture off to rescue Fumble from the clutches of "Rongo Ragney, the man who hates robots" (and perhaps not so coincidentally resembles a fat, bloated caricature of Mr. X).

This story is Jaime at his most playful. There is an unbridled passion for comics in all forms melted into this one, single strip. While the story itself seems organic, almost as if Jaime were making it up as he went along from panel to panel, the reader cannot help but get swept up in the excitement of Rocky's adventure.

Perhaps the most interesting part of this story, however, is the evolution of Jaime's art style. The two panels above contrast the stark changes that Rocky has undergone since her first appearance. The panel on the left (from L&R #4) shows a much younger, more African-American looking character, with more generic features and hatching rather than solid ink lines, while the panel on the right (from L&R #12) shows a much simpler, more animated Rocky who almost appears Latina rather than African-American. Rocky's hair style and features, including her eyebrows, the shape of her eyes and nose, and even the shape of her head have all changed. Perhaps Jaime made a conscious decision to simply alter the ethnicity of the character, but I suspect this is more a byproduct of his evolving art style, which, in this issue, leans more toward the DeCarlo/Lucey Archie style of simplified, exaggerated features and smoother figure poses than his earlier, more mainstream-influenced work.

Also, unlike the previous Rocky and Fumble strips, this one has a rather bizarre ending, a cliffhanger of sorts. After the backyard portal unexpectedly closes, Rocky and Fumble are stranded in outer space. With no way back, the two return to Brotos where they are last seen contemplating their fate at Cheetah Torpeda's house. Rather than restore the status quo, the final scene (shown above) shows the two characters lamenting their actions, with no hope or possibility of escape. It's a curious end, and almost feels like Jaime has decided to abandon these characters by simply banishing them. It will be curious to see if Jaime comes back to Rocky and Fumble, and if he tries to resolve this plot, or simply starts over.

Finally, the issue closes with "The Reticent Heart," another outstanding installment of Heartbreak Soup. As the title implies, this is a story about secrets, specifically Heraclio's. The story opens with reference to a minor secret, as Heraclio wakes screaming after a nightmare in which he is attacked by a panther (which actually did happen in "The Laughing Sun – Part 2"). Heraclio never told his wife, Carmen, about this incident, however, for fear it would worry her.

Too wired to return to sleep, Heraclio decides to write Jesus a letter, which triggers a flashback as he recalls a night when the guys (Satch, Jesus, Heraclio and Vicente) went cruising around the clubs in San Fideo, hoping to meet some "babes." After several hours, the guys finally decide to head back to Palomar, but before they do, Jesus stops to fill up the car. At the petrol station, Heraclio discovers Luba, abandoned, drunk, and clearly in real trouble, and despite their initial hesitations, the guys offer to take her home.

But on the drive back, Luba's drunken behavior gets on their nerves and by the time the guys stop on the side of the road so Luba can use the bathroom, tensions are pretty high. Things further deteriorate when Satch and Jesus get into an argument about whether or not Luba is "a whore." Since Jesus "has been more than infatuated with her ever since he first set his beady peepers upon her womanly splendor," he immediately takes offense to Satch's insults.

Their argument triggers Heraclio's "flashback within the flashback," in which we learn that Heraclio actually lost his virginity to Luba when he was only fifteen years old. Of course Heraclio never told the guys, much less his wife Carmen, who, as we learned in "Ecce Homo" already has a strong dislike for Luba.

The story ends with a passing fragment of conversation between Sheriff Chelo and a random prisoner, wondering if Luba's second youngest daughter, Guadalupe, looks like Heraclio. Though everyone believes her father is Manuel, Gilbert leaves the true identity of Guadalupe's father a mystery to be addressed in the future.

One highlight in this story was Gilbert's use of visual metaphors to convey emotional reactions. Following an embarrassing rejection from a woman in San Fideo, the guys, none of whom were able to pickup any women at all, are all feeling a little down and rejected. Rather than rely on text or dialogue to convey this, however, Gilbert's panel above cleverly illustrates their collective emotional state in a way that could only be conveyed through comics.

As with "Slug Fest," Gilbert's mocking narrator voice drops into the story at times, breaking the flow and calling attention to the creator himself, rather than the characters. For example, immediately following the fight between Satch and Vicente, Gilbert writes "there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell Heraclio might reveal to his friends the nature of the recollections running through his mind just then. Recollections that began the moment they picked up Luba from the gas station. Ah…! But there's no reason why you shouldn't know just what those recollections are:…flashback within the flashback…" Interestingly, Gilbert then shifts narrator voices entirely, allowing Heraclio to tell the story of his sexual encounter with Luba in the first person. It's clear that Heraclio had mixed feelings about the encounter. "I loved the experience…and I hated it," he writes, articulating beautifully the confusion that he felt in the days that followed. This brief personal insight into Heraclio's emotional state is the highlight of the story, and Heraclio is a far more effective and interesting narrator than the one employed by Gilbert in other parts of the story. Ironically, as soon as Heraclio's "flashback within the flashback" ends, Gilbert's sarcastic voice returns, announcing "now back to our regular flashback…"

Ultimately, "The Reticent Heart" ponders the nature of trust in a marriage. It asks when it is acceptable to withhold information from loved ones, and what are the consequences of keeping secrets? These are difficult moral questions without clear answers, and ones which Gilbert addresses, not by preaching, but simply by showing us Heraclio's actions, allowing us to draw our own conclusions and judgments. This kind of moral ambiguity is what elevates all great literature, and while I know there are greater stories to come, "The Reticent Heart" is without a doubt one of the highlights in the entire series thus far.

Love & Rockets #11

2006-12-24T18:44:00.009-05:00

Love & Rockets #11

Originally released in April, 1985 by Fantagraphics Books, Inc., 32 pages, black and white with color cover.

CONTENTS:

"Mechanics (Part Six)" by Jaime

"Tears From Heaven: The Life and Times of Errata Stigmata" by Gilbert and Mario

"Where Are We?" by Jaime

"I'm still getting requests for Errata Stigmata. Now let me explain something to the readers out there: I don't do Errata Stigmata not because I don't like the character, it's just that I have absolutely nothing to say about that character. I like drawing her, I like sticking her in a side gag maybe, but I have absolutely nothing to say with that particular character."

-- Gilbert Hernandez, from an interview in The Comics Journal #178, July 1995

Finally we reach the end of "Mechanics." In the last chapter, Maggie and Rena return to civilization. But while Maggie is excited to be back, Rena finds that she prefers the world think her dead, and after a brief goodbye, disappears into the shadows, leaving Maggie to fend for herself. Through a series of bizarre coincidences, Maggie and Race continue to just miss reuniting, with Race arriving at the airport after a desperate attempt to try to surprise Maggie, only to miss her by minutes as her plane takes off for home. In the meantime, Maggie's friends continue to grieve her death until the news finally reaches them that she is alive. Though we never actually see the reunion, the chapter ends with Maggie, bags in hand, standing outside the house where Hopey, Penny and Izzy anxiously await her return.

One of the things that both helps and hinders "Mechanics" is the inconsistency in characterization at this point in the series. In the panel above, Hopey has just returned from a brief visit to her mother's house. While her friends Izzy and Daffy are excited to tell her that Maggie is still alive, Hopey barely gives them a chance, ranting and raving about her mother and her crazy boyfriend the second she walks in the door. This single panel conveys a real sense that there is much more to Hopey than what we see in this scene (what is her relationship with her mother?), and it is that type of storytelling detail that makes for good characterization. It would have been just as easy for Jaime to have Hopey simply walk into the house and say something generic (like "hello, I'm home") and then find out about Maggie, but by adding this additional background information, Hopey's character is far richer.

Ironically, it is the lack of characterization in other parts of the story where "Mechanics" falls short. While characters like Maggie, Rena, Hopey and Izzy felt fully developed, others seemed less so. Rand Race, Dot Winks, Penny Century and Dr. Beaky all came across like most mainstream characters, one-dimensional, uncomplicated role players with little back story or personality. Rand, in particular, is portrayed as little more than a square-jawed, smooth-talking comic book hero and there's very little background or context for readers to believe in Maggie's supposed love for him. The fact that some characters felt more fleshed out than others helped maintain reader interest, but on the whole, it was this inconsistency in characterization that gave the story its strangely unbalanced feeling.

What "Mechanics" did do, however, is set the stage for future stories. Specifically, there are three major themes that emerged which will have significant implications on Jaime's stories going forward.

First is the influence of punk rock music. While it was relegated to the background in "Mechanics," we can already begin to see the early influence punk rock had on both brothers during the mid 80s, most notably in the scenes featuring Hopey. From her band's failed gig in Chapter 2, to the club setting noted in chapter 5, punk is clearly a very important aspect of Hopey's life. Punk is also an artistic influence, most notably in the outfits and hairdos (see above panel for just one example), but also in the character's general attitudes of disillusionment.

Second, Jaime continues to very slowly sew the seeds of the relationship between Hopey and Maggie. While we know very little at this point, (the two are never actually together in a scene throughout the entire six-part story) Jaime does allude to the closeness and history between these two characters. Perhaps most notably in chapter 2, when Hopey, after first hearing the rumor that Maggie is dead, drops everything to make a desperate international phone call. Maggie's reaction upon receiving the call is similarly enthusiastic implying a bond in the gray area somewhere just beyond friendship. While the details remain murky, there is clearly much more to the history between these two characters than what we have been presented so far, and I look forward to watching this particular relationship develop going forward.

Finally, like his brother Gilbert has done with Palomar, Jaime has begun to establish a unique setting, the semi-fictional barrio, Hoppers 13, a Latin-American neighborhood somewhere in California, as the backdrop for his stories. While Jaime continues to slowly integrate the Hispanic culture and language of this community into his stories, from the many references to Mexican wrestling to the intermingling of Spanish and English, there are several examples throughout "Mechanics" which contribute to the sense that this world is a real reflection of the one both brothers live in, and it is that realism which adds such depth and texture to their stories.

In the end, I have to admit I am somewhat relieved to reach the end of "Mechanics." For all intents and purposes, it was a fairly mundane story, not terrible, but a little too faithful to its comic book and superhero roots to feel wholly original. Despite the fact that Jaime's art was a revelation, the story's central plot thread, the adventure in Chepan, never came together for me. It was by no means horrible, and there were certainly flashes of brilliance, but particularly in the last couple of chapters, I just couldn't shake this feeling that Jaime's storytelling skills had not yet caught up with his art, and knowing how much better the work supposedly gets in later issues, I found myself anxious to read ahead. Rather than overanalyze it; however, perhaps it's best to simply view "Mechanics" as Jaime's training ground, a prelude to great things to come.

In lieu of a "Heartbreak Soup" story this issue, Gilbert, with "additional material" from Mario (which I presume means writing), presents the definitive Errata Stigmata story. Errata, the star of "Radio Zero" from way back in the second issue, is given the traditional "secret origin" treatment here, as we learn who Errata is and how she came to be a stigmatic. The story is Gilbert's attempt to put this rather bizarre character into some semblance of a real world context, but the whole thing is done in a very tongue-in-cheek style, never taking itself too seriously. Errata Stigmata is the kind of bizarre concept that might fit easily into the lineup of Cartoon Network's Adult Swim, and despite Gilbert's attempts to flesh out this character, Errata remains more of a caricature than a realistic, emotional character on par with any of his Palomar residents.

After her parents are killed in a surreal murder suicide, baby Errata is forced to go live with her Aunt Zephie and Uncle Ira. While Ira is loving to Errata, he travels often for work, leaving Errata alone with her twisted aunt, whose ideas about teaching life's lessons include having sex in front of Errata (see above) and locking her in the morgue with a corpse ("today you will learn how life ends."). Not surprisingly, Errata's exposure to such trauma leads to the manifestation of her stigmatic bleeding. After several futile and comical attempts to find a cure, Uncle Ira comes to the conclusion that her problem is divinely inspired, and he takes her to, of all places, a "Stigmaticon," a comics-style convention for people similarly afflicted. Here Errata meets Oona, her first real friend, who tells her about womens' menstrual cycles, implying that in fact all women are stigmatics to some degree. This brings Errata some solace before she is finally shipped off to the stigmatics' version of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

Gilbert varies his usual visual style significantly from the Palomar stories. "Tears From Heaven" has a much more cartoony aesthetic, relying on less realistic caricatures, simplified details and a slicker, cleaner style. In addition, he employs a much heavier ink line, using harsh lighting and silhouettes in many of the panels. The characters themselves appear to be derivative of several influences. Errata, with her streak of blue hair and perfectly round head and large doe-like eyes, resembles Charles Schulz's Peanuts characters, while some of the other characters, especially Errata's piano teacher, looks like she wandered out of a Charles Burns monster tale. Uncle Ira and Aunt Zephie remind me of background characters from Herge's Tin Tin with their few wisps of hair and dot eyes.

Overall "Tears" is a fun little story, but far from Gilbert's best work. An obvious and playful parody of religion, it never delves any deeper than the surface silliness of the title character. In addition, Gilbert's sparse narrative makes this a quick read compared to his Palomar stories. Still, there is something lovable about Errata Stigmata, perhaps her undeniable cuteness, and despite the fact that she pales in comparison to any of the Heartbreak Soup characters, I still found this story enjoyable.

Finally, the issue closes with Jaime's fourth installment of Rocky and Fumble entitled "Where Are We?" It's a fun little three-page filler story in which the lead characters are role-playing as pirates discovering a deserted island before their game is interrupted by Rocky's father who drags them home for dinner. There's not really much more to it than that. Rocky's costume, which consists of a striped leotard under a bomber jacket, complemented by an eye patch and headband, somehow perfectly captures the playful nature of the story. It's exactly the kind of outfit you would imagine a child with a vivid imagination would cobble together from her parent's closet.

Love & Rockets #10

2006-12-17T10:33:00.013-05:00

Love & Rockets #10

Originally released in January, 1985 by Fantagraphics Books, Inc., 48 pages, black and white with color cover.

CONTENTS:

"Locas" by Jaime

"Mechanics (Part Five)" by Jaime

"Hernandez Brothers Sketchbook" by Jaime and Gilbert

"Ecce Homo" by Gilbert

"Ready? Set? Go!" by Gilbert

"With Heartbreak Soup, I had an agenda of sorts. 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."

-- Gilbert Hernandez, from the interview conducted by Neil Gaiman in The Comics Journal #178

The tenth issue of Love & Rockets is, as Gary Groth describes it, "a special celebratory issue." In today's market, an indie title reaching the tenth issue may not seem like that great an achievement, but in the comics market of the mid-80s, for a black and white, magazine-sized, non-superhero comic to last into double digits was a major triumph. To celebrate, the book was expanded to 48 pages, includes a special sketchbook section and sports the astonishing wraparound cover with portraits of virtually every single character that has appeared in the series thus far.

The inside front and back covers feature playful one-page strips in which each brother's characters confront them. In Jaime's "Locas," Maggie and Hopey debate whether or not to fire Jaime. The strip really has nothing to do with the ongoing continuity, but does demonstrate Jaime's self-deprecating wit. Similarly, Gilbert's "Ready? Set? Go!" is a nonsensical strip which shows the artist losing control of his own characters in a playful series of visual gags.

Jaime's fifth and penultimate chapter of "Mechanics" opens with Maggie's friends and family continuing to react to the news of her reported death. Penny and Izzy debate who should get the unenviable task of breaking the bad news to Hopey. Of course Hopey doesn't take the news well at all, and after picking a fight with Terry Bull (who, it is implied, she had a past relationship with) she ultimately decides to move back home with her mother, despite several comments alluding to their troubled relationship. In the meantime, Rand Race, with Dot Winks in tow, goes in search of the missing women, hitching a ride aboard a cargo ship run by Chepan terrorists.

Meanwhile, Maggie and Rena finally escape the sewer tunnels only to find themselves lost in the middle of nowhere. They discover a tribe of aboriginal Chepan natives who barter with them for food and water, but after several stressful days together, tempers flare between Maggie and Rena, who doesn't trust the natives and wants to leave as soon as possible. The chapter ends with the arrival of Race's cargo ship, and only the much-anticipated reunion left to wrap things up.

While the story continues along its predictable trajectory, one of the most interesting character moments in this particular chapter is Jaime's handling of Rena's frustrations with her own aging body. Once an international women's wrestling champion, (not to mention a world-renowned revolutionary) Rena has put on considerable weight, and becomes irritable when she finds herself exhausted from their ordeal in the sewer tunnels. Yet rather than allow Rena to complain through dialogue, Jaime instead shows her frustration through a series of strained reactions and brief flashbacks. First, she snaps at Maggie whose continuous whining inside the sewer tunnels touches a nerve. But her impatience finally reaches the boiling point when she is unable to tame a stray horse the women encounter in the desert. Rena saw this horse as their transportation back to civilization and when she fails to tame the mare, she finally snaps. Later, as the two finally spot the cargo ship overhead, and Maggie dashes off to meet their saviors, Jaime uses the brilliant single panel flashback above to contrast the difference in Rena's physical fitness levels at different points in her life. On the left, we see an older, exhausted Rena, gassed and struggling to keep up with Maggie, while on the right (cleverly transitioned using the smoke from the cargo ship), Rena recalls in a flashback how much more energy she had as a young woman.

I also continue to be impressed with the skill and sophistication of Jaime's panel compositions. This panel above is particularly impressive for its exceptional use of the fore, middle and backgrounds. Fitting ten characters into a single panel is no simple task. Like choreographing a scene on a theater stage, characters cannot block each other, and the scene cannot be too cluttered or the reader will become lost. Therefore, spacing – both from left to right and up and down, but also in terms of depth must be carefully considered. In this panel, notice how Jaime starts at the far left with the action deep into the background and slowly pulls the reader forward as we progress to the right, until we are completely in the foreground looking at Speedy Ortiz, the ultimate subject of the panel. Notice also how Jaime uses negative space in the deep background to imply the shapes of another house and tree. Without actually drawing them in, Jaime allows Izzy and Vicki to stand out, while still implying a depth of space. This kind of storytelling is far from easy, yet Jaime executes it flawlessly and repeatedly throughout the series.

The setting itself is also worth noting. This sidewalk is clearly based on a real place, perhaps in the brother's hometown of Oxnard, CA, and it's the many rich, little details (i.e. - the oil spots on the driveway, the picket fence, the parked cars and assorted foliage, etc.) that add the texture to this scene and make the fictional world of Montoya so realistic. Jaime's close attention to these types of details continues to make his panels worth studying and savoring.

Another panel which struck me was this scene, shortly after Hopey has learned of her friend's death. The filthy club bathroom with the standing water on the floor, shattered mirrors, overflowing trashcan and crumbling plaster walls covered in graffiti is the kind of place most of us would avoid like the plague, yet notice how Hopey seems right at home seated on the sink (no doubt to avoid the water), smoking a cigarette. Not only does this scene fit perfectly with Hopey's hard-edged attitude, it is an example of the well documented influence of punk rock culture on Jaime's stories. This setting captures the grime and attitude of a filthy, disgusting punk club beautifully. It is another example of Jaime's unique artistic vision and the skill with which he brings these places to life on the page.

The latter half of the issue is devoted to Gilbert's fascinating Palomar story, "Ecce Homo." To really appreciate this story, one must understand the significance of the title. "Ecce Homo," literally, is Latin for "behold the man" and the phrase has great historical and religious significance. According to the Gospel of John (19:5), Pontius Pilate uttered these words when he presented a scourged Jesus Christ, bound and crowned with thorns, to a hostile crowd in Jerusalem, shortly before the Crucifixion. Over time, "ecce homo" has become a term referring to a specific motif in art, particularly painting, in which Christ is shown bound, facing a mocking crowd, just before his murder. In more modern art, the term's meaning has become less literal, detached from the actual images of Christ himself, and instead used to describe a more broad set of images depicting violence and suffering.

With that in mind, Gilbert's story takes place during a festival in Palomar in which all of the residents, including many familiar "guests," are in attendance. Though it is never stated, I presume from the many dancing skeletons and other symbols sprinkled into the backgrounds, that this is a Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) celebration. The first time I read this story, I was too distracted trying to spot the literally dozens of guest stars which both Gilbert and Jaime pack into the backgrounds, no doubt in homage to their own "celebration." Not only does every single Palomar character appear, but so do all of Jaime's "Locas" characters, Bang and Inez, Errata Stigmata, Rocky and Fumble, etc. Los Bros themselves even make cameo appearances, as does R. Crumb, Mr. X and several others. Half of the fun of this story is spotting all of these familiar guest stars in the crowd scenes.

However, on a second reading, it is clear that Gilbert's stories operate on a principal of accumulation. That is, with each visit to Palomar, we get to know a little bit more about these characters, delving a little deeper into their lives, relationships, etc. There is a great quote by Madeline L'Engle, author of the award-winning children's book, A Wrinkle in Time, which says that "it takes a lifetime to truly love another person." The implication is that people are always growing and changing, and we are forever learning about each other. You can never know everything about a person and that is the feeling I have after reading each installment of "Heartbreak Soup," like I am a new resident in town, getting to know everyone, learning new things after every encounter.

In "Ecce Homo" there is no real plot to speak of. Rather, we are guests at the party, wandering between groups, overhearing a random assortment of different conversations, each of which offers a little more information about the many colorful characters in Palomar. For example, we learn that:

Pipo is now married to Gato, however her son, Sergio, who appears to be about five or six years old, is not Gato's son, but Manuel's. Though we don't know how or why, we do learn that Manuel was killed.
Apparently Manuel was also the father of Luba's second youngest daughter, Guadalupe. Luba confesses that none of her daughters know the identity of their father ("They're too young to know what kind of…men…their mother was stupid enough to get involved with.").
The fact that both Pipo and Luba slept with Manuel has created a definite tension between the two and Luba cuts their conversation off quickly.
After the events in "The Laughing Sun" (issues #8 and 9), Jesus is now in prison, and his friends, especially Israel, are not too happy about it.
Heraclio's wife, Carmen (who is also Pipo's younger sister), cannot stand Luba (she calls her a "cannonball smuggling tramp") because she is not married.
Tonantzin, a somewhat undeveloped character at this point, is a voluptuous single woman who dreams of moving to Hollywood. She also happens to be irresponsibly promiscuous, and is shown sneaking off into the woods to sleep with a man she just met at the party.
Tonantzin also has a younger sister named Diana who we learn very little about at this point.
Gato, Pipo's husband, is shamelessly abusive (see the 3 panel sequence above). With absolutely no regard for his wife, or Satch, who happens to be standing right next to her, Gato walks right up to Pipo and slaps her violently across the face while her son, Sergio, is standing there watching the entire incident. Domestic violence is emerging as a major theme in Gilbert's work.

Borro, the brutish former Sheriff of Palomar, makes his first appearance since the first "Heartbreak Soup" story (in issues #3 and 4) and like many of the men in Palomar, he is in love with Luba (though perhaps "lust" is the more accurate term) and is angry that she keeps rejecting his advances.
Later, Borro gets drunk and tries to start a fight with Archie, Luba's current boyfriend (from the "Act of Contrition" storyline in issues #5-7). Luba rescues Archie before the fight can escalate, but when Israel blindsides Borro and accuses him of trying to "rape" Luba, he finds a fight anyway. While the others watch, Luba breaks up the fight, berating both men.

So, what does this all have to do with "ecce homo"? I think what Gilbert is getting at here is that each of the residents of Palomar bears their own "crown of thorns", and, to some extent, must endure the "mocking crowds." While none are facing impending murder as Christ was, each character in this story is suffering in their own way. Borro feels lonely and scorned, while Luba feels harassed by Borro's gestures. Gato is embarrassed by his wife, who fathered a son with another man, while Pipo must endure his abuse both physically and emotionally. Tonantzin yearns to escape the boredom and monotony of Palomar. Israel feels that his friend Jesus has been treated unjustly. Manuel, the father of two young children, was murdered. In the world of Palomar, particularly after attending this rather disheartening party in which everyone talks about everyone else's pain (hence "the mocking crowd"), Gilbert's cryptic title's implications become clear.

Finally, as part of the celebration, the 10th issue features an outstanding treat for fans: a thirteen page sketchbook section split evenly between each brother (Mario is not included). Rather than comment on these sketches, I thought I would provide a few highlights.

Love & Rockets #9

2006-12-11T23:04:00.011-05:00

Love & Rockets #9

Originally released in November, 1984 by Fantagraphics Books, Inc., 32 pages, black and white with color cover.

CONTENTS:

"Mechanics (Part Four)" by Jaime

"The Laughing Sun (Part Two)" by Gilbert

"The Adventures of Rocky and Her Robot Fumble" by Jaime

"I believe there is a growing movement in this field toward a new gestalt. Talents emerging in the field like the Hernandez Brothers, Scott McCloud, Charles Burns, Rick Geary, and…I include Marc Hempel and myself…are establishing the look and feel of a generation of comics. There is a real and accurate reflection of the moods of the world in this work. In years to come we'll be able to look back at the obvious effect the work is having around us and vice versa…but for now it is still too new and too little for me to clearly define it."

-- Mark Wheatley, from the letters column in Love & Rockets #9

Right around the time the ninth issue of Love & Rockets hit the stands back in the Fall of 1984, both Gilbert and Jaime were also busy working with designer Dean Motter and the team at Vortex Comics on the cult classic Mr. X. Based on the German impressionistic world of Fritz Lang's Metropolis, Mr. X was a mainstream detective book, albeit with a unique visual flare. While the brothers only lasted four issues (later artists included Dave McKean and Palookaville's Seth) before returning full time to Love & Rockets, their short venture into the mainstream comics world is the strongest evidence yet of their growing fanbase. As Mark Wheatley points out in the opening quote, "a new gestalt" was just beginning to take hold, and, with the benefit of twenty five years of hindsight, it's clear that Wheatley's comments were at least somewhat prophetic. Love & Rockets was growing in popularity, increasingly referenced by excited indie fans and foresighted retailers as: 1) a comic book that would actually appeal to women, and 2) evidence of the mature, non-superhero storytelling potential inherent in comics.

The only problem is that, particularly in Jaime's case, the storytelling at this point in the series has not completely broken free from its mainstream influence. The ongoing "Mechanics" story continues to exhibit a heavy mainstream superhero and science fiction influence in both plot construction (episodic cliffhangers, melodrama, coincidences, etc) and characterization (robots, "pro-solar mechanics," Chepan terrorists, etc.). While there are certainly signs of the characterization that will come to define his later work, at this point "Mechanics" still feels like it's trying too hard to be all things to all people.

In the fourth chapter, Rand Race is recovering in a hospital while Dot Winks is arrested trying to leave Rio Frio. None of them knows yet what happened to Rena and Maggie after the explosion in the robot warehouse, but as the rumors of the accident are reported internationally, we see many of Maggie's friends, including Penny, Hopey, Izzy and even Maggie's Aunt Vicki reacting to the news.

While the plot feels a little convoluted, what Jaime does do well is use literally all aspects of the cartooning language to convey his characters' individuality. For example, the four panel sequence above is an innovative technique in which Maggie and Rena, after narrowly escaping the explosion in the robot warehouse, are wandering lost in a pitch black sewer tunnel. By varying the tails of the speech balloons, Jaime conveys a great deal about the two characters' personalities. The wavy tails are Maggie's and are an excellent visual representation of her nervous state of mind. By contrast, Rena's straight tails imply her confidence and leadership.

Jaime has often cited longtime Archie artist Dan DeCarlo as one of his major artistic influences. DeCarlo, whose work on women-centric titles includes Betty & Veronica, Josie and the Pussycats and Millie the Model, was also a master at body language, facial expressions, and of course, drawing women. Like DeCarlo, Jaime is becoming more efficient with his lines, never overwhelming the reader with details and effects (i.e. – less crosshatching, shading, etc.). However, the most striking similarities are in the two artists' character designs. In the two panels above, the stylistic similarities between Millie (left, from the cover of Millie the Model #81) and Dot Winks (right, from Love & Rockets #9) are striking. From the minimally detailed, waves of hair and clean-skinned, flawless faces, to the broad lips and toothless smiles, DeCarlo's influence on Jaime's work is clear. I will explore both brothers' artistic influences in much more detail in future columns.

The ninth issue also sees the conclusion to Gilbert's excellent two-parter, "The Laughing Sun." After Jesus's alleged assault on his wife and baby, Heraclio rounds up the old gang of friends, including Satch, Vicente and Israel, to go up the mountains and bring him back to Palomar. On the surface, it is a simple story, but what makes it such a standout is the way Gilbert explores the themes of friendship, domestic violence, guilt and misunderstanding with a sensitive touch, never preaching or moralizing, allowing his characters to act and react to each other naturally.

At this point in the series, I generally find Gilbert's stories more interesting than Jaime's. Whereas Jaime's characters are more "heroic" in stature (Hopey is a rock star, Rand Race is an international celebrity, Rena Titanon is a revolutionary and wrestling champion, etc.) Gilbert's residents of Palomar are everyday people with everyday struggles. Heraclio is an accordion teacher and a family man. Luba is a movie theater operator trying to raise four daughters. Chelo is the local sheriff, just trying to keep the peace. Their hopes and dreams, if not identical to ours, are certainly familiar.

Gilbert's writing is also becoming sharper and more confident. In "The Laughing Sun," the artist uses flashbacks to great effect. The first, shown above, is Heraclio's as he recalls a funny memory of the time when Jesus dropped Luba in a stream. Against the serious backdrop of domestic violence, this flashback lightens the mood and offers readers a very different look at Jesus through the eyes of his friends. Israel also has a flashback to Jesus's wedding day, and recalls how he tried to convince him not to marry Laura, despite the fact that she was pregnant. In both cases, we not only learn a little more about Jesus himself, but also get a real sense of the relationships and the history between all five of these guys.

We also learn a little about the group's dynamic. Israel is the brash, hot-headed playboy, the perpetual teenager, and not surprisingly, the others often lose patience with his immature antics. Vicente, on the other hand, is the quiet, sensitive one, who turns out to be the one guy Jesus trusts enough to ask for when they finally find him. Heraclio comes off as the voice of reason, and, to the extent that he rounds up the others, the de facto leader of the group.

Gilbert bookends this chapter with an interesting, theatrical technique, as first Laura, then Jesus, the two halves of the domestic dispute, tell their sides of the story. Each one stands, as if on stage, in front of a large, ghostly backdrop of their partner. It's a clever storytelling device, symbolizing the disintegrating marriage and emotional distance between the two, while at the same time bringing the reader closer to each character, making both equally sympathetic, rather than clearly painting Jesus or Laura as the villain.

The issue closes with Jaime's third installment of "Rocky and Fumble." In this episode, Rocky decides to run away from home because she is tired of being isolated on her parents' farm. So one night she and Fumble set off in a boat down the river and end up encountering several rather bizarre characters along the way.

As with the previous Rocky and Fumble stories, this tale is pretty light. Overall, the plot and characters are too underdeveloped to have any real emotional resonance. We don't know Rocky well enough to understand why she is so frustrated being at home, nor do we understand her parents' reasons for keeping her isolated. As a result, Rocky's actions feel clichéd.

Still, the attraction in these short non-Locas stories is Jaime's artwork, which is as satisfying as one of those Saturday morning cartoons you got up early to watch when you were a kid. There's something so aesthetically appealing about Fumble, I'm not surprised that Jaime keeps revisiting this particular character. He's so cute, with his globe-shaped head, legless, hovering body, Mickey Mouse gloves and full range of cartoon facial expressions, that his cuteness overshadows the teenage angst plotline. The six panel sequence above is a particularly entertaining example of Fumble's animated personality as the two runaways try to avoid being discovered.

Finally, this outstanding, Kirby-esque back cover by Mario closes out the issue and makes me wish he was a more frequent contributor to the series.

Love & Rockets #8

2006-12-02T22:36:00.012-05:00

Love & Rockets #8
Originally published in September, 1984 by Fantagraphics Books, Inc., 32 pages, black and white with color cover.

CONTENTS:
"Mechanics (Part Three)" by Jaime
"The Laughing Sun (Part One)" by Gilbert
"Isidro's Beach (Heartbreak Soup Theater)" by Gilbert

"You'll notice that there are no fancy graphics or special effects in Gilbert's work; instead, you'll find a cast of characters whose inner lives are as scrupulously portrayed as their exteriors, saturated with humanity, struggling with the contradictory impulses that animate them."

-- Gary Groth, from the Introduction

The third chapter of Jaime's "Mechanics," which comprises half of the eighth issue, continues to explore the sexual tension between Maggie and Rand. The emotional rift between the two main characters, who, despite sharing a mutual attraction, get caught up in the frustrating game of courtship, continues to be a fascinating character dynamic and Jaime handles this tension skillfully, keeping the theme central without resorting to melodrama, all the time conveying each characters' internal frustrations and awkward interactions realistically.

The panel above is an excellent example of Maggie's troubled state of mind. Shortly after her fight with Race (from Chapter 2) Maggie, furious with herself for losing control (she struck Race with a spare robot part) is berating herself in the mirror of her hotel room.

Similarly, a couple pages later, we see Rand suffering a similar fate as he lies in bed, contemplating the shallow affair just completed, and exploring his own feelings for Maggie. He feels at once angry, guilty, regretful and confused as his mind reels, trying to rationalize his sense of betrayal.

Despite the science fiction elements that mire this story, what makes both Maggie and Rand such compelling characters is that they are relatable. Even when they are fixing robots, it is these conflicting inner feelings they share that resonate, and the frustrating fact that, like many of us, their fears cause them to do things they later regret. As Gary Groth eloquently points out in his brief Introduction, "Rand Race feels that he's betrayed his unarticulated love for Maggie by having an affair with the reporter Dot. This is an extremely shrewd depiction of that ambiguous, shadowy area between platonic and romantic love."

Also worth noting in this panel is the emotional distance between the two lovers, despite their physical closeness. Their body language (lying apart, silently staring off into the distance) combined with their perfectly rendered facial expressions, particularly Rand's, are part of what makes Jaime's comics so emotionally rich.

Though I have mentioned it several times, and will undoubtedly mention it many more as I continue through the series, Jaime's panels are utterly masterful works of cartooning by themselves. Each individual panel could be held up as an example of a particular strength but the one below is a particularly creative and beautiful example of Jaime's unique artistic vision.

Here we are looking up through a sewer pipe at Maggie and Rena Titañon, who are alone in the old robot storehouse, discussing Maggie's romantic frustrations. There are several remarkable elements to this particular illustration worth noting, including the slightly rippled shadow of a robot's hand in the lower right foreground, indicating the broken surface of water, the circular composition of the panel as a whole, representing the depth and shape of the pipe, the use of shadows to obscure Maggie's face as she stares downward with the light behind her and both character's body positioning, as Rena stands tall, with her hands firmly on her hips while Maggie squats. Even the ceiling, with its patchwork of parallel lines denotes the haphazard, ramshackle feel of a shed constructed quickly and cheaply, as opposed to a more conventional ceiling. As a reader, perhaps all of this is unconscious, and no more than a few seconds may have been spent on this particular panel, yet all of these stylistic touches were conscious decisions of the artist, and offer further support of the widely accepted idea that Jaime is one of the greatest living cartoonists.

The chapter ends with a surprisingly mundane, "comic book" cliffhanger, as Chepan terrorists have rigged the robot shed to explode, a small act of defiance against the ruthless dictator, Dr. Beaky, though they are unaware that Maggie and Rena are inside. Race, learning of the terrorist's plans from Dr. Beaky, rushes to the island in an attempt to save Maggie, but falls just short of his goal. The final image is of a smiling robot, bomb strapped ominously to its chest.

One of the great underrated skills in comics, and one that separates the true "cartoonists" from the merely "artists," is lettering. Both Hernandez brothers do their own lettering and Gilbert's opening title to the two-part "The Laughing Sun" is itself a work of art, and perhaps the best example of hand lettering thus far in the series. The first panel is also worth noting for its sheer visual intensity. Not only does it establish both the setting and the narrator, but that sun, which Gilbert describes as "a pitiless potentate," literally overpowers the panel. You can almost feel the heat rising off the page.

The two part story opens with a shocking act of domestic violence as Tonansin discovers Jesus Angel in her house, carrying a knife and looking dazed. But when she goes to tell Jesus' wife, Laura, Tonansin discovers that there has been a violent attack, the house has been trashed, the crib has been kicked over, and Jesus has stolen a car and left town. Sheriff Chelo asks Heraclio to round up Jesus' old gang of friends to go find him and try to bring him back to Palomar so they can all get to the bottom of the situation.

The "gang of friends" turns out to be the same group of kids who were running around causing havoc together in the very first Palomar story, "Heartbreak Soup," back in the third issue, only now they have all grown up and have left Palomar to start their own lives. There's Satch, who is married with three kids, Israel, who is now a bodybuilder living in San Fideo and Vicente, whose facial scars are still, to this point, his defining character trait.

Not to be outdone by his brother, Gilbert also demonstrates considerable skill in panel composition. The illustration above, as Tonansin discovers, for the first time, the scene of the crime, is impressive for its use of the foreground to convey the aftermath of the argument. By not actually showing readers the fight that caused such destruction, this aftermath, with furniture and household effects strewn about, is much more powerful, and allows the reader a certain degree of creative imagination. It also establishes several questions in the reader's mind as to what really happened. Did Jesus really snap and trash his own house? And if so, what caused him to lose control?

Gilbert also takes full advantage of the storytelling language of comics, particularly in the flashback scenes as Jesus' friends recall memories of him as a child. In the panel above, Gilbert's use of nested thought balloons to illustrate Vicente's memory of Jesus and himself as kids, getting chastised for looking under Pipo's dress, is an outstanding example of the multi-layered storytelling that seems to come so naturally to both brothers. It is a storytelling technique that conveys better than any text could, both the private fears of childhood and the depth of a friendship that spans across many years.

Ultimately, "The Laughing Sun" is a story about the bonds of friendship, and how those bonds are tested over the years. Despite what appears to be overwhelming evidence of Jesus's guilt, his old friends drop everything and travel back to Palomar to go in search of their old friend, and hopefully convince him to come back and face the consequences of his actions, not to mention taking responsibility for his family. Even though the evidence indicates that he attacked his wife and assaulted his newborn child, his friends, and by extension, the readers, are not convinced. The story ends with the four of them in a car, heading up to the mountains to try to bring Jesus back.

Beto closes out the issue with a short, standalone Palomar piece called "On Isidro's Beach." This is the first time thus far in the series where Luba acts like a mother, a dimension to her personality that, while hinted at, had yet to be explored. I'm sure this role will continue to develop as the series unfolds. The story involves an awkward encounter between Luba and Isidro, a man whose life came unraveled after he lost his business and his wife. When Luba decides to take her four daughters to the beach for an afternoon, little does she know that Isidro has taken up residence on the very same shore, claiming it as his home. Though Luba is not sure whether Isidro is dangerous or not, her instinct to protect her daughters kicks in, and the brief conversation between the two, in which Isidro begs for food (despite insisting he is not begging) is painfully tense and sad.

Despite Luba's initial fears, however, it quickly becomes clear that Isidro is a sympathetic, harmless, even tragic character, who's suffered a nervous breakdown. Gilbert's dialogue, which conveys both Luba's sympathy and the awkwardness of the encounter itself, as her four daughters watch silently, is superbly executed. Gilbert's writing and sense of his character's voices continues to sharpen with each visit to Palomar, as the author continues to flesh out his characters personalities, backgrounds and surroundings.

Love & Rockets #7

2006-10-29T16:50:00.000-05:00

Love & Rockets #7
Originally released in July, 1984 by Fantagraphics Books, Inc., 32 pages, black and white with color cover.

CONTENTS:
"Mechanics (Part Two)" by Jaime
"Act of Contrition (Part Three)" by Gilbert
"Locos" by Jaime
"The Whispering Tree" by Gilbert

"He's obviously synthesized a variety of influences and come up with a style that combines the best of Will Eisner and Dan de Carlo, with maybe a touch of Steve Ditko thrown in for good measure. It's a very accessible graphic style, with a kind of bare, unadorned quality. There's no attempt to wow the reader with flash, no extraneous detail, no 'gingerbread.' What you see is what you get. Panels are simple and uncluttered, suggesting a kind of relaxed spaciousness. Compositions are strong and simple, figures clean-limbed and attractive."

-- Pete Scott, from the letters column in Love & Rockets #7 on Jaime's "Locas"

One of the things that's easily forgotten as I go through the details of each issue is that part of what makes Love & Rockets a classic is simply that it came first. While today, the diversity of creative voices in the comics industry offers a more rich and varied selection than anytime in the history of the artform, with new and interesting comics coming out virtually every week (though it's debatable how many achieve the level of craftsmanship as Los Bros), back in the early 80s, Love & Rockets, along with perhaps Dave Sim's Cerebus and a very small handful of others, was literally the only comic exploring this type of adult storytelling. Love & Rockets, from its very first issue, paved the way for an entirely new generation of cartoonists to explore literate comics for adult audiences. The evidence of the excitement that swept through the industry back then is preserved, like flies in amber, on the letters pages. Roger Weddall writes that "the label 'comics' doesn't seem to fit" anymore while Jon Turnbow proclaims that Los Bros have, in just a few issues, "literacized the medium." By the seventh issue of the series, the direction was clear and fans, often those with little interest in mainstream superhero comics, were beginning to discover an entirely different concept of what a comic book could be.

The seventh issue opens with the second chapter of Jaime's "Mechanics." Once again, the sexual tension between Rand Race and Maggie is the central theme. Rand and Maggie have arrived in Rio Frio and go to meet their mysterious employer, Dr. Beaky. A business rival of H.R. Costigan, Dr. Beaky is an odd individual to say the least. While the three of them discuss the specifics of the job, two bizarre young twin Asian girls literally cling to him. The two girls, Machi and Chiness, idolize Dr. Beaky, but Chiness, (the one scowling in the panel above) is insanely jealous of any other female that Dr. Beaky shows even the slightest interest in. As soon as Dr. Beaky and Race are out of the room, she attacks Maggie. Dr. Beaky, whose flirtations with Maggie are more awkward than endearing, is quick to punish and berate Chiness in front of them, but rather than smoothing over the situation, Maggie is left feeling disgusted at his treatment of the girls.

Later, Rand and Maggie rent a tug boat and head out to the small island of Chepan, just off the shore of Rio Frio, where the warehouse of robots Beaky has hired them to fix is located. But when Rand sees the robots, he loses his temper, blaming Beaky for inventing this mindless busy work only to prevent them from working for Costigan. He lashes out at Maggie then storms off, and it is at this particularly ill-timed point that Dot, the Marilyn Monroe-esque newspaper reporter, reveals herself.

Dot's persistence and aggressiveness have consistently been a turn off to Rand, who has refused her requests for interview several times, but this time Rand completely loses his temper. He screams at Dot before finally regaining control of himself. Realizing how foolishly he has behaved, he goes back to the warehouse to find Maggie and apologize. The chapter ends with Maggie's over-reaction at learning of Dot's presence on the island, as she literally shoves Rand into a pile of spare robot parts.

This story continues to build upon the characters and situations established in previous issues. Despite the fact that he only appears in two panels, we learn about the professional rivalry between H.R. Costigan and Dr. Beaky, an interesting power dynamic between corporate rivals. We also delve deeper into Rand Race's character and, for the first time, we see him lose his composure. His frustrations aside, we also sense, though it has yet to actually manifest itself, that he shares at least some level of attraction for Maggie. Their flirtatious encounter on the tug boat may have led somewhere were it not interrupted by government officials. Maggie continues to go along for the ride, happy just to be in Race's presence, and hoping for an opportunity to get closer. Her frustrated reaction at the end of the chapter, while perhaps a bit overstated, is completely natural.

The final chapter of Gilbert's "Act of Contrition" opens with Archie tormented by nightmares about his argument with Luba. Meanwhile, back in Palomar, the consequences of Luba's neglect of her job responsibilities have come to a head. The water heater at the bathhouse, long in need of repair, has exploded, destroying an entire wall. Luba, however, is not there to witness the spectacle because she and her daughter Doralis had to travel to San Fideo to try to repair the broken movie projector. While Luba is bickering with the repairmen, Doralis wanders off by herself into the city, but fortunately she is rescued before any harm can befall her when Archie shows up at an extremely coincidental moment. When Luba finds Archie with her daughter, she's so relieved, she decides to give him one more chance, so the two go back to Palomar to fix the projector, and Archie finally makes his move. Unfortunately, at that exact moment, they are interrupted by Martin "el Loco" who bursts into the room to fix the projector himself. Without thinking, Archie attacks him, not realizing he's mentally ill. Luba breaks up the fight, and makes Archie apologize, but before she can catch her breath, someone comes running in and tells her about the disaster at the bath house. The story finally ends with Archie and Luba, a few days later in San Fideo, finally consummating, so to speak, their tumultuous relationship.

"Act of Contrition" was a great story in many respects, certainly Gilbert's most ambitious in the series thus far. It's clear he has a love for these characters, and like a new resident of the town, readers get to know them through the eyes of the others in Palomar. There are also several details that are worth noting. For example, in the panel above, notice how the bath house explosion is a real event for Palomar's residents. There are children literally jumping for joy while musicians add their own soundtrack to the somber affair. Such a reaction is realistic in a small town where nothing this dramatic usually happens, and is one of the many subtle touches that Gilbert uses to make Palomar resonate as a real place.

The story is not without its flaws, though, as Gilbert is still developing his storytelling skills at this relatively early point in the series. The most glaring example is the narration, which distracts rather than enhances each chapter. For example, when Gilbert ends the story with "Well!...It appears another installment of Heartbreak Soup has run its course---so how about we end this one on a happy note for once…?", the emotional impact of the scene, in which Archie and Luba finally realize their affections physically, is lost. Instead, this ambiguous voice comes off as sarcastic and mocking, almost as if the author isn't happy with his own work. In fact, these comments undermine the story's internal world, leaving the reader with the sense that these events did not actually happen, and the characters are just the puppets of some as yet hidden showman.

The story also suffers from a couple of unresolved plot threads, though given the serial nature of Love & Rockets, I expect that many of them will be resolved in future issues. For example, Gilbert never explains who the woman who gave Martin the box of dresses was, or why she did so. Perhaps this is not a significant detail, but for me at least, it was an unanswered question.

Jaime's "Locos" gives some background on Maggie and Hopey's good friend "Izzy" Reubens, and though only four pages long, it's one of his best stories thus far in the series. For one thing, this story introduces an entirely new storytelling device, which up to this point, had only been hinted at. The story follows a discussion between Speedy Ortiz, Izzy's brother, and a friend, discussing, essentially, why his sister is such a social outcast, routinely dresses like "una vampira" and makes cryptic remarks about life and death. Her strange behavior, which is tolerated by her friends Hopey and Maggie, is more of an embarrassment to her brother. As the two boys discuss how Izzy got to be this way, we learn that she was once married to a man named Jack Reubens, though he was twice as old as her and the marriage only lasted a year. She also apparently spent time in Mexico, though even her brother does not know exactly what she was doing down there.

What makes this story so fascinating is that Jaime establishes Izzy as a fiction writer, and hints that she may be the narrator of all of the "Mechanics" and "Locas" stories that have come before. This may explain the confusing introduction to "100 Rooms" (in L&R #4) in which the first page featured Izzy referring to Maggie as "the perfect comic book heroine." Does this mean that the stories featuring Hopey and Maggie are just Izzy's stories? Well, not fully, because obviously the world in which Speedy and his friend are having this discussion is separate. Perhaps just the "Mechanics" stories are Izzy's creations, which would make sense given the science fiction elements they contain, but Jaime has not gone so far yet as to reveal whether this is the case or not. Izzy's writing can even be traced all the way back to the first issue with the experimental "How to Kill a….By Isabel Reubens" story. If Jaime's master plan has always been to establish Izzy as a writer/narrator whose stories serve as an additional narrative layer between his own stories and the Barrio world inhabited by Speedy and his friend, this is a brilliant development, and even more fascinating for the way he has built the reader up to it over the course of the first seven issues. If this is not the case, it is still an intriguing development, and I am anxious to learn more about Izzy and her mysterious past in Mexico.

We also learn a little more about Maggie's past in the discussion between Speedy and his friend. For example, Maggie's parents were apparently divorced, the result of her father's infidelity, and as a result, she and her mother ended up moving around a lot when Maggie was a teenager. We also learn that Speedy has, for several years, harbored a secret crush on Maggie, and I'm optimistic that this relationship will be explored in future issues.

Finally, "The Whispering Tree" is Gilbert's cute little twist on a children's fable featuring Doralis and Guadalupe, Luba's two youngest daughters. Guadalupe decides to play a practical joke on Doralis by telling her that there is a ghost trapped inside an old tree in their back yard. But when a character named "Beto" (the author, perhaps, though he is never shown) hides behind the tree and yells at them when they ask the tree questions, Guadalupe's practical joke backfires. This story shows Gilbert's childish side, as well as his sense of humor, and as the end piece to this issue, it left me with a smile.

Love & Rockets #6

2006-09-29T17:14:00.002-04:00

Love & Rockets #6

Originally released in May, 1984 by Fantagraphics Books, Inc., 32 pages, black and white with color cover.

CONTENTS:
"Heartbreak Soup Theater: The Mystery Wen" by Gilbert
"Mechanics Part 1" by Jaime
"Heartbreak Soup: Act of Contrition, Part 2" by Gilbert
"Amor Y Cohetes" by Jaime

"I like Jaime's stuff best. I love the contemporary fashion and hair styles. Also, you seem to know women pretty well. What's your secret, man? Eleven sisters, 12 girlfriends, or just hanging out on street corners?"

-- Steve Rude, from the letters column in issue #6

In the sixth issue, both brothers drop the shorter, experimental pieces in order to focus on exploring and developing their major characters. Jaime contributes two new stories featuring the Locas, while Gilbert supplies two more Palomar tales. All four stories expand the fictional lives and settings of their respective primary characters, and as such, this issue feels like the beginning of something much larger, in which these characters and settings really move to the foreground of the series.

In Gilbert's opening story, the six-page "The Mystery Wen," Heraclio, the young boy who had just moved to Palomar in the first "Heartbreak Soup" story (in Love & Rockets #3-4), is grown up now. Slightly neurotic, he works as an accordion teacher in San Fideo and is married to Carmen. When Pepo, a drinking buddy of his, discovers a strange bump (the "wen") on the top of Heraclio's head, Heraclio becomes obsessed with what might have caused such a growth, and more importantly, whether or not he's going to die. Though he naturally tries to downplay it to his wife and friends, Heraclio cannot sleep he is so worried, but he hates doctors (he has not had a checkup in seven years) and despite his wife's pleadings, he refuses to go get the wen examined. Instead, he ends up going to the see "Senora Bourgeois Bruja" (Palomar's local witch doctor) in order to avoid going to the real doctor, but is irritated with her ridiculous diagnosis and finally, in an act of desperation, tries to beat the wen with a stick and ends up knocking himself out.

When I first read this story, I found it a little bizarre. Gilbert never really answers the question about what caused the wen to appear or why Heraclio is so resistant to going to the doctor (though I suspect both of these may be addressed somewhere down the road), and Heraclio's reactions to it, while at first normal enough, turn strange and neurotic by the end of the brief tale. But what makes this story work is how Heraclio tries to hide his admittedly childish fear of doctors. Just because we all grow up doesn't necessarily mean we overcome all of our childhood fears completely, and in Heraclio's case, though he recognizes on some level that he's being ridiculous, this recognition is not enough to help him overcome his fear. Instead, it only further frustrates him because he knows, on some level, how irrational it is. It's this inner struggle between his rational side and his fears that gives this particular vignette its genuine sense of humanity. Gilbert's instinct for this type of story is incredible.

This issue also debuts the first chapter of Jaime's six-part "Mechanics" story, once again featuring the "prosolar mechanics," Rand Race, Duke Morales, Yax and the rest of the crew from issue #2. As you can see in the outstanding splash panel above, Maggie is almost giddy with delight to be back at work with Rand, who she still has a huge crush on. The only problem is that Maggie is not the only one who finds Rand attractive. Dot, an investigative journalist, or "a snoopy, flirty reporter bitch," as Maggie describes her later to Hopey, is also obsessed with Rand and has been trying unsuccessfully to get an interview with the rising young star for a while. When Dot lies, claiming to be Rand's sister in order to gain access to their base of operations, Rand is none too pleased to see her. Yet, after a nearly disastrous accident in which he accidentally knocks Dot off of a construction rig, his attitude softens toward her. Maggie, of course, becomes jealous and resentful of Dot as soon as she sees Race's demeanor change. The chapter ends when Maggie gets a call from Race telling her that they are going to Rio Frio for their next mission. Maggie is delighted, but little does she know that Dot is tagging along.

From the letters columns, it is clear that many fans back in the mid-80s (including Steve Rude) preferred Jaime's linework to Gilbert's. There are so many little subtle touches to enjoy in Jaime's art, I almost wish I could scan in every panel. For example, take a good look at the panel above where Rand and Maggie are working on some kind of prosolar rocket engine in a darkened shed. Jaime's use of lighting and shadows is incredibly striking. Then there's the panel where Jaime extends the scene outside the panel borders by truncating the edges of the word balloons, implying that there are characters and action happening outside the box. There's also the panel near the end of the story where Maggie, Hopey and Penny are walking through their town, and the walls behind them are covered with Spanish graffiti, giving the scene an authentic flavor. For most readers, all of these techniques are subtle and perhaps even unconscious, yet each of these, when accumulated, contributes to the overall experience.

In the second chapter of "Act of Contrition," Gilbert digs deeper into Luba's background, though still it feels like he's only just begun to scratch the surface. On the opening page, we learn, through Palomar's always active gossip network, that Luba has four daughters with four different fathers, and has never once been married. In fact, Luba's irresponsibility is the focal point of this story as she continues to date Archie Ruiz, while neglecting her other duties, which include running Palomar's bath house and movie theater, not to mention raising her four daughters. Sadly, while Luba is off dancing in San Fideo every night, all of these responsibilities fall to her cousin Ofelia, whose loyalty is admirable despite the fact that she is clearly frustrated.

In the meantime, the new relationship between Luba and Archie undergoes some predictable strains. Despite having dated for several weeks, Luba, still unsure of her feelings (and undoubtedly weary of men in general after four failed relationships), has avoided getting physical and Archie, like most men, has grown increasingly frustrated. Hoping to clarify her feelings, Luba invites Archie to spend an afternoon with her daughters and, still hopeful of convincing Luba to be his girlfriend, Archie reluctantly agrees. However, the afternoon doesn't go so well, and Luba's oldest daughter, Maricela, is not crazy about Archie.

Still, Luba is not quite ready to give up yet, and at the very least she still enjoys her nights dancing in San Fideo, so she continues to see Archie, despite the fact that things continue to erode between the two. Their troubles finally come to a head when Archie overhears a couple of men at the dance club making fun of Luba (who is much older and fatter than many of the younger women there). He is deeply embarrassed, drags her from the club and the two have a horrible fight outside. (By the way, did anyone notice Maggie standing in the far right of the panel above?) The scene ends with Luba demanding that Archie take her home, and despite his apologies, Luba slams the door in his face.

One of the themes that will undoubtedly continue to come up again and again in this column is the notion of characterization, and Luba is one of the most compelling characters in the entire series thus far. In this issue, Gilbert has established a considerable foundation upon which to explore her life. With four failed relationships and four daughters to show for it, the storytelling possibilities are numerous, and like many readers were undoubtedly back in 1984, I am extremely curious to learn more about Luba's past.

One of the other interesting aspects of this middle chapter is Gilbert's development of Archie's character. Archie works as a mortician, a profession he is somewhat embarrassed to share with Luba, so he hides the fact with vague innuendos about working in the "cosmetics" industry. For him, this secret is one of the barriers to an honest relationship, yet he cannot quite bring himself to tell her for fear that it will end his chances with her. In one particularly moving scene, however, Archie learns of the death of Senora Meza, a close family friend, and makes his co-worker Joe promise to "make her look like a queen." This genuine act of concern adds a more compassionate side to Archie's character, and this scene in particular offsets his rather one-dimensional portrayal thus far, making him a far richer character than the sexual predator he seemed like after the first chapter.

The final story is Jaime's five-page "Amor Y Cohetes" (Love & Rockets), which is peripherally related to "Mechanics." While Maggie is waiting for her bus to the airport for her trip to Rio Frio, she grills Penny Century about her history with Rand Race (Penny and Rand had a brief, failed relationship, though it's not clear yet to what extent), and we learn a little bit about why Penny hates him so much. When Penny was younger, she worked as a "honey bee" in a famous restaurant in "New Keops" and was spotted by Rand on the street. The two briefly flirted before Penny left for work, but that same night, after she got off her shift, Rand was waiting for her outside the restaurant. Yet the two never really dated, and it was more than a year before Penny and Rand had a second random encounter. This time, Rand had become a famous prosolar mechanic, and Penny rather precociously interrupts an interview, claiming to be his fiance. The story doesn't end there, but as Maggie's bus arrives, both the readers and Maggie are left wanting more answers as to what happened next. It's a fitting ending, a cliffhanger of sorts, as Maggie leaves for her latest adventure in Rio Frio.

Love & Rockets #5

2006-08-15T12:34:00.000-04:00

Love & Rockets #5

Originally released in March, 1984 by Fantagraphics Books, Inc., 32 pages, black and white with color cover.

CONTENTS:
"Locas starring Hopey" by Jaime

"Fan Letter" by Gilbert

"Penny Century in 'T42'" by Jaime

"Heartbreak Soup: Act of Contrition, Part One" by Gilbert

"Errata Stigmata in 'Le Contretemps'" by Gilbert

"Rocky and Fumble in 'Retro Rocky'" by Jaime

"Other little things keep cropping up in my mind like the clothing of the people, the self-reliance of the female characters, certain new wave elements, environments that aren't squeaky clean, healthy politics, writing that puts people before the plot, people who haven't saved the universe from the dreaded space mucus, and the presence of people whom, if I were to meet them, I would care about."

-- Bill Pegler, from the letters column in issue #5

With the fifth issue of Love & Rockets comes a welcome format change. The page count has been cut in half, and the issues themselves, from #5 on, began to come out bi-monthly as opposed to quarterly. This is "welcome" not only because it makes my job of reviewing each issue easier, but also because it provides less overwhelming amounts of story. This is also the first issue in the series thus far that does not introduce at least one major new character. Instead, both Jaime and Gilbert continue to flesh out their existing characters through a series of short vignettes (though Gilbert's "Act of Contrition" is the first of three parts).

The book opens with Jaime's eight-page "Locas starring Hopey," his first story to bring Hopey to the lead instead of Maggie. Hopey, as we learn, is a recovering graffiti artist, and when a building construction project leaves a virgin white wall right outside her window, her old deviant desires return. The only problem is that Hopey has already done jail time for vandalism and doesn't want to return. So, with the help of Maggie and Izzy, the girls hatch a plan to distract Officer Sado while Hopey spray paints the wall. Everything is going according to plan until Maggie gets drunk on tequila and passes out instead of distracting Sado, and Hopey and Izzy are caught in the act.

One of the factors that continues to make Jaime's stories so enjoyable is his ability to convey storytelling at several levels, using not only some innovative cartooning tools, but also an unparalleled mastery of facial expression and body language. This four panel sequence as Hopey is confronted by Officer Sado is yet another example. First, notice Hopey's inner thoughts as she tries to restrain herself from Sado's verbal barrage. Jaime conveys this restraint visually by drawing panels within the thought balloons. The younger, meaner-looking Hopey with the shaved head voices her thoughts, while the older, more mature Hopey struggles to restrain herself. Eventually Sado gets to her, provoking exactly what he wanted so that he can arrest the two girls. Also, notice the progression of Izzy's reactions from nervous, to desperately pleading with Hopey, to horror at knowing what's coming.

Gilbert's three-page "Fan Letter" is one of the more memorable non-Palomar works thus far. The narrator, a hardcore punk rock fan, describes the brief rise and slow, painful fade-out of one of his favorite bands, Twitch City. In just 12 panels, he describes the entire history of the band and its members, which includes the typical rotating cast of drummers, a la Spinal Tap. The story is fictional, though undoubtedly based on a real band. Both Brothers have spoken openly about their passion for the LA punk scene of the early 80s, and this story is one of the clearer examples of this influence on their work.

"Penny Century in 'T42'" (tea for two) is a single scene in which Penny and her billionaire boyfriend, H.R. Costigan (owner of the mansion where "100 Rooms" was set last issue), have what amounts to a lover's spat. Penny takes offense when H.R. offers to buy her an island. Tired of having her every wish granted, she claims that she wants to "get a job and start paying for things" herself. Costigan misunderstands Penny's comments, however, and ends up insulting and condescending to her, telling her "without my money you are nothing but a two-bit hat check girl." The fight never really escalates, however, and the couple quickly makes up. While it's brief, there is a fair bit of rich humanity in this short story as Penny struggles with the boredom that often afflicts the rich, the internal struggle as to what to do with her life if money is not the primary motivation. It will be interesting to see how Jaime develops Penny and Costigan's relationship going forward.

The beginning chapter of Gilbert's second major Palomar story arc follows, and already he has made one significant leap forward. Literally. This story, entitled "Heartbreak Soup: Act of Contrition," unlike its predecessor, takes place about 15 years in the future, and all of the characters from the previous story have aged accordingly.

"Martin el Loco" (the crazy) comes out of confession at the church and is asked to dispose of a box of old dresses by a strange woman he passes in the street. We don't yet know who the woman is or why she gives him the box. Martin, who is clearly either mentally-retarded or learning-disabled, though he seems harmless and charming, wanders around the town with the box giving the dresses out for free. First he encounters Chelo, who is now the Sheriff of Palomar, and then Ofelia, Luba's cousin who is now all grown up and running the bathhouse. Finally, he goes to the movie theater, which is also owned by Luba now.

After struggling with a broken projector, Luba hurriedly dismisses Martin only to discover that her old friend, Archie Ruiz, is waiting for her outside in his fancy new sports car. Though Luba has not seen him for years, the two appear to have a history, and Archie invites Luba on a date to a dance club in San Fideo. Luba, who has not been on a date in years, is at first hesitant, but eventually accepts. When the two arrive at the Koo Koo Club, Luba runs into several old acquaintances from the first "Heartbreak Soup" story, including Israel and Vicente, who are now grown men. The chapter ends with Luba declaring her intentions to go out with Archie again the following night, much to Ofelia's dismay. Though it's only one date, Ofelia knows Archie is trouble and is worried about Luba getting involved with him.

The title, "Act of Contrition," implies some shameful, remorseful act, and the opening splash page of Luba looking despondent and troubled with Archie in the background further implies that perhaps this rekindled relationship may not end well. One of Gilbert's greatest strengths, his character designs, is worth noting again in this story. Archie, for example, looks like trouble upon initial apprearance. He has that stereotypical slick look, with the pompadour hair, shoestring mustache, leisure suit, and expensive sports car that make him seem like a teenager and certainly plants suspicion in the reader's mind. Yet, despite these elements, he never feels like a cliche.

"Le Contretemps" (which means quarrel or argument) is a bizarre three-page scene featuring Gilbert's semi-recurring character, Errata Stigmata. As the strip explains, a "stigmatic" is someone who "semi-frequently bears sores corresponding identically to the wounds suffered on the crucified body of Christ." In the story, Errata is making love with her boyfriend Bob who just happens to be a religious studies major and, she suspects, is only interested in seeing her wounds bleed. Though Bob initially denies this, the truth comes out soon enough when she actually does bleed. Errata ends up kicking Bob out, and the scene is over. I don't think there's much deeper meaning here, other than some dark humor and perhaps some not-so-subtle religious satire, but when compared to the Palomar story that precedes it, this strip is really unremarkable.

Jaime's "Retro Rocky," the final story in this issue, is a five-page tale featuring Rocky and Fumble, the slapstick stars from issue #4's "Out O' Space." This time, we learn how Rocky and Fumble first met. Rocky's old garbage man, Raymond, used to bring her presents occasionally, and on the last day before her family moved to a new planet, he brought her Fumble. At first, she thought Fumble was just another doll until her father figured out how to activate him, and ever since they have been best friends. It's a cute little children's story though not particularly deep in terms of character. Still, Fumble's large, round smiley face with his short capsule body is unforgettable, and though so far it seems like Jaime doesn't take these characters nearly as seriously as the Locas, they're still charming in their own right.

Love & Rockets #4

2006-08-01T13:32:00.012-04:00

Love & Rockets #4
Originally released in Fall, 1983 by Fantagraphics Books, Inc., 64 pages, black and white with color cover.

CONTENTS:
"Locas Tambien: 100 Rooms" by Jaime
"Twitch City" by Gilbert
"Music for Monsters" by Gilbert
"Out O' Space" by Jaime
"Heartbreak Soup: Part Two" by Gilbert

"This issue features some of Gilbert and Jaime's best work to date. The lead story, "100 Rooms," is probably Jaime's most carefully structured and emotionally resonant story yet. Gilbert concludes 'Heartbreak Soup,' surely his most ambitious and successful work; and his brief, six-page "Twitch City" follows in the tradition he began with "Radio Zero" in L&R #2, succinct but devastating commentary on the present hidden masterfully in a tale of the future."

--Gary Groth, Introduction to the letters page in Love & Rockets #4

"Their stories have a naturalism that I've never seen done in any comics and a ring of truth in all of the situations and characters even when it veers off into fantasy or science fiction or surrealism or satire (all of which they handle beautifully)."

--Steve Leialoha, letters page from issue #4

While technically the fourth issue in the series, Love & Rockets #4 is a first in many respects.

It is the first with a split cover, reminiscent of those old 80-page giants from DC Comics in the 60s. It's also the first issue devoted solely to the works of Gilbert and Jaime (though Mario does contribute the excellent back cover illustration). It is the first time we learn about the nature of the relationship between Maggie and Hopey in Jaime's story. And finally, this issue wraps up Gilbert's first major story arc set in the fictional town of Palomar, which serves as the setting for the vast majority of his works to come.

Both brothers are beginning to flesh out their characters and explore the fictional worlds they inhabit, and it is that slow unfolding that makes this such an amazing journey. These are complex characters with hopes, fears, insecurities, senses of humor, dreams, stresses, responsibilities and flaws. Their lives seem real because, like us, they too deal with the wide assortment of situations that one encounters in life. After twice reading the stories in this issue, what remains more than anything else is the sense that something far bigger exists than what we have seen so far. Many relationships and incidents are only hinted at at this point and the sense of excitement over what's still to come is mounting.

One example of these hints comes on the very first page of the fourth issue, which opens with Jaime's classic "100 Rooms." The first couple of pages of the story are narrated by Isabel Ortiz Reubens, a sarcastic, smoking nun who introduces Maggie as "the perfect comic book character" and herself as "caring for Maggie since she was born." Little else is explained about her role in Maggie's life, and after the second page, we do not hear from Isabel again.

Like many of Jaime's early stories, "100 Rooms" is structured into five chapters, almost as if he had intended for the story to be serialized across several issues. Since Gary Groth specifically comments on the story's careful structure, I thought it was worth taking a closer look. Not surprisingly, Part 1 sets up the story, which finds Maggie trying to borrow $50 in order to buy a pair of "black steel-toed bomber boots." It's a pretty simple motivation, but what makes this scene exceptional is the amount of additional characterization that Jaime works in to virtually every panel. The scene opens with Maggie in a gym, asking her Aunt Vicki for a loan. Through a brief conversation, we learn that Maggie's parents do not know she is living with Hopey, and we get our first definitive confirmation that Hopey is a lesbian (or "little dyke" as Vicki puts it). After being rejected, the girls run into Hopey's friend, Speedy, on the street and ask him for the money. Speedy not only refuses to give Maggie the money, he mocks her for wanting "chalupas." Then the girls run into Penny Century, another friend, who propels the plot forward by inviting the two to stay at the mansion of H.R. Costigan with the promise of not only adventure, but borrowing the $50. It's more characterization than many comics fit into an entire issue, and Jaime conveys it all in only six pages!

Jaime also demonstrates, yet again, his skill at panel composition in order to convey subtle personality traits. The three panel sequence above is a great example. In the first panel, Maggie is casually chatting with her Aunt, while in the second panel, Maggie asks her for the loan. Notice how Maggie's body language changes. Her knees are trembling and her hands are positioned to indicate how nervous she is. I also love how Vicki's gruff, hard-edged personality is conveyed through her fellow boxer's reaction as Vicki stands casually with her foot on her throat. Finally, in the third panel, Jaime does an excellent job of implying action without actually showing it. We see Maggie outside the gym, literally 'on her ass,' and without seeing it happen, we understand that Vicki threw her out. It's a masterful example of how to use pacing and timing in comics.

In Part 2, the girls, joined by Penny and their friend, Izzy, arrive at the mansion, and after some brief exploration, Maggie gets lost. Wandering into a vacant bedroom, she finds a strange man hidden in a closet. Fearful that she will give him away, he takes her hostage, but Maggie quickly realizes that he means her no harm, and though I found this a little bit of a stretch, Maggie ends up sleeping with him. Strangely, the scene ends with a single panel illustrated by Gilbert, featuring Chelo and Vicente questioning the events in Jaime's story. I like this kind of interplay between the brothers, though it did break the narrative flow of the story just a little.

In Part 3 we learn the secret of Maggie's lover. His name is Casey, and he's hiding in the mansion to take revenge against Costigan for, well, being rich I guess. It's not really clear. In the meantime, nervous about Maggie's disappearance, Hopey is worried that she might have upset her after making a brusque comment about her weight. Finally, Penny announces that there's a huge party planned in their honor, and Izzy decides she's leaving. The scene ends, as all good serials must, with a cliffhanger as one of the butlers announces that he chased "a prowler" out of Maggie's room, and may have shot him. It's also worth noting that this is also one of Jaime's most erotic scenes yet as Penny, Maggie and Hopey are all shown either in the nude or in lingerie. Along with everything else, Jaime draws exceptionally beautiful women.

Part 4 takes place at the aforementioned party and opens with Maggie and Hopey making up with each other. We also see a theme that I imagine will be ongoing throughout the series – Maggie's eating problem. Stressed and feeling guilty about having lied to her friends, Maggie literally pulls a chair up to the buffet and tries to feel better by gorging herself. Meanwhile the party is in full swing and there are rumors that someone is out to get Mr. Costigan, who is protected by Demona, a superhero bodyguard who is oddly reminiscent of DC's Lobo character with her mohawk, tattoos and bad attitude. The art in this scene is some of Jaime's best. The masquerade party is filled with interesting characters in costumes, many familiar parodies of popular comic characters, others wholly original, all evidence of Jaime's incredible sense of character design.

In Part 5, we finally learn Casey's fate. Not surprisingly, he shows up at the party in costume but is quickly discovered by Demona and escorted out. However, in a clever twist, we learn that he was not the assassin we were led to believe. Reunited with Maggie, Casey invites her to go with him back to "Pomonola." But when presented with the choice of going with Casey or staying with Hopey, of course Maggie chooses Hopey. Finally, returning to their old neighborhood, Maggie laments the fact that she wasn't able to get the boots (her friend Daffy got them instead), but she no longer cares, having learned to appreciate the value of close friends. As Groth implied, it is indeed a tight, circular story arc with a moral at the end that is believable and satisfying without seeming too heavy-handed.

"Twitch City," a short six-page story by Gilbert, follows. More than anything else, "Twitch City" is a portrait of a dystopian future, narrated by Emico, a seventeen-year-old tour guide whose jaded teenage angst is both universal and somewhat off-putting. What stands out more than the story is Gilbert's darker, slicker art style. Unlike "Heartbreak Soup," he uses lots of heavy blacks with very little hatching or shading, along with simpler character designs. This style gives his futuristic city and punk characters a harshness and edge that would not work in Palomar.

If, as Groth asserts, Gilbert is offering this story as social commentary, perhaps his statement is that the moral foundation of society is crumbling. In "Twitch City," "over-boys" prowl the streets looking for victims to rape while churches sponsor "orgy/picnics." The final image, which shows Emico engaged in a hollow and joyless sexual act (while bizarrely holding a bowl of cottage cheese!) shows how meaningless sex can become in a society saturated in it. It's a chilling illustration and one that leaves a potent and lasting image in the reader's mind.

"Music for Monsters," features another installment in Gilbert's playful, though forgettable adventures of Bang and Inez in a land filled with marvelous and bizarre creatures. In this chapter, the girls are babysitting a giant egg in the middle of the ocean, when they are attacked by some sort of sea monster. The plot is irrelevant, however. What makes this story fun is the self-deprecating wit of the lead characters who acknowledge openly their role as comic book characters (as Jaime did with Isabel Reubens in the opening of "100 Rooms"), and Gilbert uses the strip to parody comics rather than take them seriously.

"Out O' Space" is Jaime's version of "Music for Monsters," a fun, playful strip with a tongue-in-cheek silliness. It's kind of like a 70s sitcom mixed with a Saturday morning cartoon. Think what The Jeffersons would have been like if produced by Hanna-Barbera and you kind of get the idea. Rocky and her smiley-faced robot, Fumble, go in search of a new planet to settle. When they find a derelict asteroid, they colonize it, proclaiming themselves as its rulers. But when a vicious rock monster named "Mad Patrick" arrives on the other side of the same rock, a surprisingly comical territorial battle is waged. This is hardly Jaime's best work, but he does put forth the same level of detail and craftsmanship that he puts into his "Locas" stories and the characters themselves are memorable.

Finally, the issue closes with "Heartbreak Soup – Part 2", the conclusion to Gilbert's first Palomar story. Although he never actually draws himself into the panels, Gilbert's presence is felt throughout the story. His sarcastic narrator mocks and pokes fun of the small town ("Welcome to Palomar…population three hundred and eighty-six. Where the men are men and women need a sense of humor."). In the opening pages, he recaps the goings-on from Part 1 by asking each character to weigh in on where the story began exactly. Not surprisingly, each one has a different answer. The point is that these are real people whose lives are the story, so trying to define one single starting point is impossible.

While there are many different storylines introduced, there are two main plot threads. The first focuses on the rivalry between Chelo, Palomar's existing bañadora (bath-giver), and the new girl in town, Luba, who is also a bañadora and is stealing away much of Chelo's business. The battle heats up when Chelo convinces the Sheriff to either arrest Luba or at least try to run her out of town. But like most of the men in town, the Sheriff is attracted to Luba and instead he ends up locking them both in the same jail cell. This particular plot is enjoyable because both women involved in the fight are sympathetic characters. While most writers make it clear who to root for in a story (think of how many times it's obvious who the "good guys" are), Gilbert's characters are so relatable that you can't help but like them both. So it's particularly satisfying when, instead of tearing each other apart, the two women come to terms and become friends.

The other main plot thread is a typical love triangle, albeit filtered through the lens of a small town where everyone knows everyone's business. In Part 1 (from L&R #3), Manuel had a brief affair with Pipo, a fourteen year old just coming into her sexuality. However, Manuel is twenty-six and not the least bit interested in having a relationship with a child. So when Pipo falls in love with him, of course he ends up going out of his way to avoid her. But then there's Gato, another eccentric resident of the town who's harbored a secret love for Pipo for years. Too shy to confess his feelings, however, he always awkwardly stumbles through any interactions with her and ends up angry at himself. When Gato learns about Manuel's relationship with Pipo, he confronts Manuel. To his credit, Gilbert does not take the obvious way out, and this particular conflict ends with a twist that, while perhaps a little contrived, was nonetheless an unpredictable ending.

After only two issues, the town of Palomar already feels like a familiar place and the residents feel like people I've known my whole life. That there is tremendous storytelling potential with these characters is clear, not only because I know that Gilbert goes on to create dozens of stories, but also because they themselves all have momentum. Some are still growing up, some are searching for love, some are lost, others are lonely, some want more money and some don't know where they're going yet. "Heartbreak Soup" is probably my favorite story in the first four issues (though Jaime's "Mechanics" is a close second) and is certainly Gilbert's strongest work thus far. As I look forward to future issues, knowing there are some real classics lying ahead, I cannot wait to see how the town of Palomar and its eccentric residents grow and change.

Love & Rockets #3

2006-06-20T13:36:00.000-04:00

Love & Rockets #3
Originally released in Summer, 1983, published by Fantagraphics Books, Inc., 64 pages, black and white with color cover.

CONTENTS:
"Love & Rockets" by Jaime
"Sopa de Gran Pena" by Gilbert (Heartbreak Soup - Part 1)
"Maggie vs. Maniakk" by Jaime
"Ya Wanna?" by Gilbert
"Somewhere in California" by Mario
"Locas" by Jaime
"Locker Room Interviews" by Gilbert
"Toyo's Request" by Jaime

Love & Rockets #3 is a landmark issue in many ways.

The book opens with Jaime's two-page, generically named "Love and Rockets" story about a young woman whose attempt at suicide is foiled by Atoma, a superhero she is in love with. It's a decent character snapshot, but pretty forgettable.

But what makes this a landmark issue is Gilbert's "Sopa de Gran Pena" (Heartbreak Soup), which introduces the village of Palomar, the famous setting for the majority of Gilbert's stories to come (not to mention the ultimate career spanning collection of the same name). Palomar is, on first visit, a charming small Latino town set in a small South or Central American rural village. In this first chapter, Gilbert introduces literally dozens of new and fascinating characters, though the town of Palomar itself is perhaps the central character, rather than any of the individuals that inhabit it.

Nothing much really happens in this story (the first half of a two-parter) other than the characters interacting with each other on a day-to-day basis. The story opens with Tip in' Tip in', the town drunkard, whose latest unrequited love affair depresses him so much, he decides to hide underneath his house. Several of the villagers, led by the young precocious adolescent, Carmen, take it upon themselves to rescue him, take him home and clean him up. In the meantime, Chelo, the town's "bañadora" (paid bath-giver) has her business threatened when Luba shows up in her trailer and starts offering baths for much cheaper. Then there is Pipo, Carmen's older sister, who is in love with Manuel, despite the fact that he is only interested in one thing, and she barely notices Gato, who is in love with her. A group of teenage boys, including Heraclio, the new kid in town, and Vicente, whose facial scars are not explained yet, roam around looking at porn and getting into all sorts of mischief, though they also help rescue Tip 'in Tip 'in.

It's astounding how many fully realized, interesting and unique characters Gilbert managed to create in just 22 pages, never confusing the reader as to who is who, or the relationships between them. Gilbert's uncanny ability to create distinctive visual personality traits, such as Heraclio's military-style flat top, Luba's buxom chest or Manuel's pompadour haircut are what make these characters so recognizably unique.

Gilbert also establishes the look and feel of the community in everything from the way everyone seems to not only know everyone else (and gossip endlessly about each other), to the tiny background details such as stray chickens wandering around panels, or young children playing in abandoned lots, swinging on a makeshift tire swing. Gilbert also designs great costumes, a further element of characterization in comics that is often overlooked, in order to distinguish his large cast.

The town of Palomar itself is so fully realized, so rich with detail, that you really get the sense you have visited someplace real after reading this first story, and while the characters themselves will undoubtedly be fleshed out over the coming issues, they too are presented with enough unique and interesting qualities to make them memorable and interesting in their own right.

Though one can begin to see the signs of their moving toward more mature storytelling, (particularly in Gilbert's "Heartbreak Soup") the Brothers' transition is not yet complete. As evidenced by both the front and back covers, as well as his stories, "Love and Rockets" and "Maggie vs. Maniakk," Jaime is still relying on many of the traditional superhero elements of comic books, perhaps to give his stories more mainstream appeal. The nine page "Maggie vs. Maniakk" story is essentially a superhero story, though there is a clear distinction between this and your typical Marvel or DC book in terms of the perspective and depth of characterization.

After a botched mechanic repair job accidentally releases the evil Maniakk from his dimensional prison, Maggie, feeling responsible, seeks out Ultimax (who has long since retired) in order to once again defeat his arch foe. Angry at Maggie for having released Maniakk, Ultimax convinces Maggie to aid him as his sidekick. In the panel below, Jaime, ever the master of capturing subtle body language, conveys Maggie's uneasiness with Ultimax's poorly conceived plan. The way she tilts her head, and grasps her left arm nervously with her right hand, conveys her discomfort perfectly.
The tale is retold by Maggie to her four girlfriends: Hopey, Giggles Galore, Venetia Vendetta and Penny Century. That her friends find the tale unbelievable leaves the reader to question whether Maggie's adventure really happened or she just made it up, but whatever the case, it is a fun, typically well-illustrated adventure.

Mario follows with his third episode of "Somewhere in California," which, while unrelated in plot or characters to the previous two, does share some similar traits in terms of theme and action-oriented dramatic storytelling. Brian, a young thief and part time porn actor, steals some goblets and accidentally ingests the eggs of an ancient creature known as El Ofre. However, the goblets belonged to the famous film director Afa Reingold, who had been planning to film the "return" of El Ofre, and their disappearance leads Reingold to kidnap Brian and try to extract the creature. The story shares some supernatural elements with the X-Files, but on the whole is pretty formulaic.

"Ya Wanna" and "Locker Room Interviews" are one page nonsensical strips by Gilbert, which feature some great dignified monster characters, and this bizarre interchange:

"Locas Tambien" is a clever little two page strip featuring Maggie and Hopey going shopping for groceries, talking about Maggie's many love interests, including her co-worker Rand Race. We also briefly meet Joey and Tony, friends of Hopey's, who make fun of Maggie's weight problem.

The final story, Jaime's "Toyo's Request," chronicles the first meeting between Rena Titañon and Duke Morales, though it's narrated by Rena's imprisoned lover Bernie Carbo. Rena returns to Zymbodia, where she was raised, to see her friend Toyo on her deathbed. Toyo's last request is that Rena deliver a locket to her husband, Zono, who disappeared years before, having presumably been imprisoned. But when Rena tracks down Zono, she discovers that he was not imprisoned at all, but rather simply ran out on his wife. Rena is so angry, she beats Zono within an inch of his life. When word gets out of Rena's attack on Zono, her old wrestling nemesis, Bull Marie, who still holds a grudge against Rena for "slamming her through the mat," decides to take revenge. Rena, who had picked up Duke Morales hitchhiking along the desert highway, is attacked by Bull Marie and forced once again to fight her. Rena wins with ease, and continues on to the city and goes on a date with Duke, who later introduces her to Bernie Carbo.

As usual, Jaime's art contains the perfect mix of straight-forward storytelling with some clever visual tricks. His use of flashbacks in this story is noteworthy not only in the image of Rena embedded inside a cloud of smoke from Bernie's cigarette, but also inside a thought balloon as Bull Marie remembers her wrestling match with Rena. This fight scene above with Bull Marie is also beautifully choreographed and the distinction between the action in the foreground (Bull Marie fighting) and the action in the background (Duke getting hit and falling down) along the top tier is very well executed.

As a whole, the third issue of Love and Rockets is a mixed bag. It still feels like the Brothers haven't quite hit their stride in terms of smooth storytelling, though there are some examples of brilliance to prove otherwise. Gilbert's "Heartbreak Soup" shows considerable promise, in terms of both storytelling potential and thematic and social commentary. I look forward to seeing more of Palomar and the characters introduced. Jaime's stories are still my favorite, though this issue pales in comparison to the "Mechanics" story from issue #2. Still, "Toyo's Request" is a great exploration of a secondary character (Rena Titañon) and shows Jaime's sense of humor as well.

Love & Rockets #2

2006-05-17T14:23:00.012-04:00

Love & Rockets #2
Originally released Spring 1983, published by Fantagraphics Books Inc., 64 pages, black and white with color cover.

CONTENTS:
"Mechanics" by Jaime
"Radio Zero" by 'Bert
"Somewhere in California" by Mario
"Music for Monsters" by 'Bert

"If the term graphic novel meant anything any more, Jaime's 'Mechanics' would be one of the few American efforts to qualify."

-- Gary Groth, from the Introduction, "Comics Can Be Art and Here Are Some of the Reasons Why"

While the first issue of Love & Rockets featured some exceptional cartooning, after reading the second issue, I am starting to sense why this series is considered such a classic. Jaime's opening story, "Mechanics," which, at 40 pages and comprising the first two thirds of the book, is a true masterpiece by any standard, is the first bona fide evidence of true genius so far in this still-evolving series.

The story picks up right after our brief introduction to Maggie and Hopey in Love & Rockets #1, in which Maggie had just accepted a new job as a mechanic, working alongside the famous Rand Race, who Maggie immediately develops a crush on. Issue #2 opens when Maggie's crew, which consists of Rand, as well Duke Morales, the lead mechanic, are contracted to repair a crashed spaceship, known as the "legendary Saturn Stiletto," deep in the jungle of Zhato, a fictional country which has many similarities to the Amazon rainforest in Brazil. As the story progresses, we learn that the actual mission has nothing to do with repairing the spaceship at all but is rather an excuse to retrieve its cargo, the drug "pito."

Over the course of two months, while the characters struggle with their task, Jaime introduces many supporting characters and sub-plots. Most notable is Penny Century, who arrives unexpectedly at the crash site in search of the pito herself. But after Maggie's initial excitement at her friend's arrival wears off, she quickly becomes jealous of the attention which Rand pays to Penny. The subplot is excellently played, as Jaime often does little more than use subtle jealous glances to convey the tension. Jaime also introduces Queen Rena Titanon, international adventurer, revolutionary and noted scientist. Rena arrives under the pretense of understanding how "dinosaurs have kept alive for so many years and why ones from different time periods coexist." But immediately we learn that, like Duke, who was a mechanic for Rena and her husband years ago during the war, Maggie also has a history with Rena. Her Aunt Vicki beat Rena in the women's wrestling championship (another Mexican cultural reference) many years ago.

While there are many virtues to discuss in "Mechanics," perhaps Jaime's greatest strength is his truly unique narrator voice. Maggie's adventures in Zhato are told through a series of letters to her best friend Hopey, and they contain all of the randomness, informality, and self-deprecation that a young, single woman writing confidentially to her best friend would use. For example, when describing the jungle, Maggie writes, "I mean, this jungle is sooooooo deep that next to this big, big, big rocket ship we have to fix that is stuck in the slimy muck, is a big, big, big, old, fat, smelly, fat, old, black dinosaur!" The repetition and informality of the language works to convey both Maggie's sense of humor, as well as the close nature of her friendship with Hopey. This voice is consistent throughout the story and provides a very satisfying narrative structure.

One of the other things that makes these characters so believable is the way they are drawn like real people, not comic book archetypes. A great example of this is the character design for Maggie in the panel above. Notice Maggie's body type and dress. This is a woman who actually looks like a mechanic, not some overly endowed cliché. She is neither too skinny, nor overly muscular. Very few characters in comics, especially women, have such realistic proportions. Perhaps more than any other single factor, it is this decision by the artist which makes these characters so identifiable.

Also worth noting is how Jaime distinguishes between the foreground, middle ground and background in this panel using blacks, whites and hatching, a common technique but one that is flawlessly executed throughout the story. These details may not always register consciously with the reader, but they do contribute to the overall effect of taking the reader deeper into the imaginary world.

Another thing that stands out after reading the first two issues is Jaime's mastery at conveying personality visually. As Groth points out, "Jaime has the novelist's eye for detail; through the accumulation of detail, of human quirks and idiosyncrasies, these characters become whole and rounded." Though virtually every panel could serve as an example, one of the best is this one, from the beginning of the third chapter:

From left to right, we see the entire cast of characters, all huddled together, yet from their facial expressions, costumes, body poses, and even the way they interact with each other, we learn a great deal about each one, despite the lack of text. Starting with the left, we have Penny Century and her boyfriend du jour. The lustful way the two are hanging on each other, not to mention the hand positioned right over Penny's crotch, exemplifies the youthful, adventurous and carefree nature of Penny's character. To her right, we are introduced to Rena Titanon, the internationally renowned revolutionary who's just arrived. Notice the way Duke's not only shaking her hand, but patting her on the shoulder, indicating both a past relationship between the two, and a sense of admiration. Rena herself carries an air of confidence and experience in the way she stands tall with her high heels (in the jungle!) and white-streaked hair. Finally, and perhaps most notable in this panel, is the cringe-inducing exchange between Maggie and Pedero Rodriguez San Jo. As we later learn, Pedero is the spoiled, entitled son of Zhato's dictator, Sancho Conrado San Jo, and already here in his very first panel, we can tell he is a lecherous, arrogant, predator simply from the look on his face. That his overpriced, plaid leisure suit seems so out of place compared to the other characters is also no accident. Maggie, too nice and innocent to yet feel disgusted by Pedero, simply shakes his hand warmly, while Tse Tse, the crew's translator, stares nervously at him, the barely restrained expression on her face revealing that she knows full well who he is and what his arrival means. That such a simple panel can convey such depth and complexity is further evidence of Jaime's masterful control over every detail of the story.

This three panel sequence from page 19 is another example of Jaime's total command of body language and facial expression, and it's incredible how easy he makes it look. Here, Maggie is drunk and frustrated with the heat, the food, and the lack of progress on the repair job, and finally lays into Duke. While the dialogue is well-written and conveys her intoxication, it is the bizarre pose Maggie gets herself into, especially in the third panel, which punctuates this scene. The way she is holding herself upside-down with her leg stretched in the air is so unique, it dominates an otherwise typical interaction. Throughout "Mechanics," Jaime's art is rich with these types of subtle details.

Near the middle of the story, after thirty days in the jungle, Maggie contracts a strange illness. As she writes to Hopey, "My fever ran so high I couldn't lift my arms, my insides felt like they were on fire, my skin felt like a million needles were poking into me, my eyes were almost gone, my fingernails turned purple and I grew these gross, gigantic green fever blisters all over my face and chest. I was a mess." At first unsure of what is wrong, she finds herself unable to get out of bed. When her partner, Rand, comes to check on her, Maggie's excitement, combined with her fever, causes her to pass out. While most artists might be tempted to simply draw Maggie falling down, perhaps into Rand's waiting arms, Jaime takes full advantage of the comics medium to create something far more illustrative of Maggie's inner experience.

The first thing that is noticeable is how Jaime fades from light to dark. This use of rising shadows to show Maggie's fading grip on consciousness is expertly illustrated, particularly in the third panel where Rand and Maggie appear as little more than white outlines on a black canvas. On the lower tier, the gradual narrowing of panels serves two purposes. First, it increases the beat of the story, as if with each progressive panel, we are experiencing Maggie's fear and increasing heart rate. Also, with the precisely measured decrease in each panel's width, Maggie's fading consciousness is metaphorically conveyed by the fading panels. Upon initial glance, this technique may appear simple, but this is the kind of skilled, clever storytelling device that very few comics creators would even think to use, and one that demonstrates how many different ways there are to portray an experience or emotion in comics. This, I suspect, is what Groth meant when pointing out that "a comic succeeds in direct proportion to how much the writing and drawing are suffused with meaning beyond what the words and pictures literally represent."
At the climax of the story, as our heroes make their escape, the following panel appears:

Unfortunately, what this dialogue does is force the reader out of the story, shattering the inner reality by acknowledging it as fiction. As readers, though on some level we know it's not the case, we also want to believe these characters are real, and when they themselves remind us that it's actually the author's voice, we feel like Dorothy discovering the real Wizard of Oz. Jaime's temptation to intrude is understandable, he is basically poking fun at himself and his somewhat clichéd ending, yet it undermines the story's credibility a little. However, despite this panel, the merits of this story far outweigh this one minor issue.

The issue closes with three short pieces by the other brothers, beginning with Gilbert's "Radio Zero," a bizarre little story, surreal in its strange inner world of tongue-in-cheek terrorism and punk naiveté. More than anything, the story feels like something Chester Brown might have written during his Yummy Fur days, totally confusing, with a bizarre world and almost David Lynch-like characters, but yet it's illustrated so well, it's visually fascinating.

Gilbert's writing skill still hasn't quite caught up to his art yet, though this is only the second issue, but his passion for comics and the incredible world he is creating is definitely worth exploring. What I love about the panel above is the use of visual gags and exaggerated character features. The morbidly obese woman sitting in the chair (with the 'LR' on her cup) is a great example. Despite the fact that this woman only appears in one panel, this is far from a generic face-in-the-crowd type of character. It's these kinds of details that make this story, and Gilbert's art in general, worth savoring. Notice also Errata's reaction in the last panel when she learns that Velentia, despite knowing that her best friend has just died horribly, aggressively comes onto her. Her reaction is perfectly drawn, capturing the shock, horror and disbelief at such a bizarre situation, yet maintaining its cartoon-like sense of parody.

Given the prolific careers that both Jaime and Gilbert have had – having written and illustrated literally thousands of pages each – it's easy to see how some fans might have forgotten that there was a third Hernandez brother, Mario. The oldest of the three, Mario would have made a great superhero artist. In his second chapter of unrelated short stories, entitled "Somewhere in California," Mario's style, while not quite as tight and controlled as either Jaime or Gilbert, is far from incapable. His alien character design, heavily influenced by John Byrne's classic superhero work, is a clever blend of Spielberg's light-hearted E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial and H.R.Giger's much darker Alien design.

Mario's weakness in this story is his lack of character development. The story feels more like a familiar episode of some TV drama, like the X-Files, though far more ambitious in both plot and sheer number of characters. Mario's story is also the most conservative in terms of page layouts. While both Gilbert and Jaime take risks, experimenting with all sorts of original page designs, Mario relies solely on the three-tier grid, only varying slightly the number of panels per row. While there is nothing wrong with this approach (it has served many great writers, including Alan Moore, well over the years), it sticks out a little more when compared to the other stories.

The final story, "Music for Monsters," is an interesting, though forgettable, four-pager featuring the same characters from the first issue, Bang and Inez. Gilbert's cartooning is consistent with his previous work thus far in the series but offers little more than a bizarre fight between the two young women and some vicious looking snowmen. It's not bad, but hardly essential.

One of the great things about the stories of all three brothers is that they take all of the traditional genres of comic books – horror, sci-fi, fantasy, superhero, monster, romance, etc. – and combine them with the real world (mixing in a little Mexican culture for good measure) to create one complete universe where anything and everything is possible. They then walk us through this world of infinite comic book possibilities with characters that are themselves heroes in one sense yet deeply human on another level.

In every way, the second issue is a step toward shaping that inner world, and while Jaime's "Mechanics" steals the show, all three brothers continue to demonstrate not only a tremendous natural talent for cartooning, but an unrivaled passion for the artform. While Gilbert and Mario have yet to find their voices in terms of writing and character development, Jaime has set the stage for a tremendous amount of storytelling potential, creating a world where literally anything can and hopefully will happen. I can imagine the excitement that comics fans must have felt when this issue first came out back in 1983, as it was literally decades ahead of anything else on the shelves at that time.

Love & Rockets #1

2006-04-25T12:48:00.011-04:00

Love & Rockets #1
Originally published Fall, 1982 by Fantagraphics Books Inc., 64 pages, black and white with color cover.

CONTENTS:
"BEM: Chapters 1-5" by 'Bert
"Mechan-X (with Maggie and Hopey)" by Jaime
"Barrio Huerta" by Jaime
"Penny Century, You're Fired!" by Jaime
"How to Kill a by Isabel Ruebens" by Jaime
"Music for Monsters (with Bang and Inez)" by 'Bert
"Locas, Tambien" by Jaime

"When I first saw Gilbert and Jaime Hernandez's 32-page self-published comics fanzine for the first time, I was immediately won over by their freshness, their wild originality, and their offbeat imagination. Their work reminds me of the early syndicated strips that flourished during the first three decades of this century, a time when the unique imagination of the cartoonist was still highly valued, and a time before mass production and mass communication had seriously smothered regionalism and individuality in the arts."

-- Gary Groth

I wasn't sure what to expect.

With such universal critical acclaim, I imagined, perhaps naively so, that the first issue of Love & Rockets would be so spectacular, so singular in its vision, so bursting with promise and enthusiasm for the cartooning artform, that I would erupt out of the gates proclaiming the second coming of some comics messiah. I assumed that the inaugural issue of one of the most seminal comics ever published, and the highly influential pre-cursor to the current wave of what critics like myself call "alternative comics," would be nothing short of breathtaking, and that if anything, I would be unable to contain my enthusiasm in a single, coherent column.

Instead, I struggled for words. Though I read this issue nearly three weeks ago, I spent a lot of time trying to decipher my own thoughts and feelings about the book. There's a lot to digest here; 64 pages of raw comics enthusiasm, sometimes stunning in its vision, other times confusing and misguided. There are clearly signs of considerable talent in the works of both brothers, but there are also some flaws.

Not that the first issue of Love and Rockets is bad by any stretch. Not even close. As far as first issues go, this is an outstanding example, and it's clear why Gary Groth felt such enthusiasm (his introduction is aptly titled "O what a wonderful book it is! Effusive Introductory Words by Gary Groth"). There is a clear sense of passion for the art of cartooning that comes through on every page, and both brothers' level of craftsmanship is surprisingly advanced, demonstrating their remarkable skills at sequential storytelling right from the very first page.

It's just that something doesn't quite feel right yet.

The stories, while showing some glimmers of character development, are, in many cases, lacking the depth that I had anticipated. Nearly two thirds of the first issue (46 of the 64 pages) is devoted to Gilbert's five-part story "Bem." Though it tries to be many things, "Bem" is ultimately a lovingly-crafted monster tale, which revolves around several characters as they react to the escape of the notorious creature from its prison. The story is broken into five chapters, but each chapter is interrupted with other content. The result is a difficult and jarring read, as the reader is constantly pulled out of the story. This becomes even more of an issue by the end, given the density of each chapter, with its many panels and lengthy text passages.

In the opening chapter of "Bem," several characters converge on the evacuated Ovo Islands, naively hoping to contain the monster and therefore rule the island. Most notable among these characters is Luba, whose name should be familiar to anyone with even the most casual familiarity with the Hernandez brothers' work. Yet here, in these first 8 pages and indeed throughout this first issue, Luba is not yet fully baked, appearing, like many characters in superhero stories, one dimensionally focused on control and power. There is also the distraction of Luba's enormous chest, which, unfortunately, has become one of the most common clichés in comics. Yet in his introduction, Groth refers to this story as "an attempt to satirize pop culture icons through a willful distortion of traditional narrative devices that have since become clichés in comic books," implying, though indirectly, that Luba's large chest, and indeed many of the elements in the "Bem" storyline, are intended as satire of "pop culture icons" (presumably superheroes). While I can see certain cases of this (characters named Harold Penis, Castle Radium, and weapons referred to as "Buttinski blasters" all lend a satirical sense of humor to the proceedings), I found it hard to believe that "Bem" was intended as a straight forward satire. If Groth is correct in his assessment that characters like Luba are "willful distortions" of other buxom female characters, this was not obvious to me on initial read. Though, at times I can see his point, the story was far from the Kurt Vonnegut-style tongue-in-cheek satire that would be obvious to readers.

Ultimately, what makes "Bem" difficult is that it does contain many fundamentals of good storytelling. There are seeds of characterization, genuine attempts at plot construction, an inconsistent but valid dramatic tension and a clear sense of rising action, and even some moments of well-written dialogue (though many more that are clumsy or overly verbose), but none of these elements come together enough to make the whole story a satisfying read. By the end, the entire story falls apart and the resolution to the mystery of Bem's motivations and current whereabouts is both confusing and unsatisfying.

One thing that "Bem" does succeed in doing, however, is showcasing Gilbert's considerable cartooning skills. His non-traditional page layouts are one of the highlights of the story. In this sample from the third chapter, we can see several examples of Gilbert's considerable artistic ability. First, the entire page has a symmetry that is visually pleasing. Also, in the first panel, Gilbert gives the empty room an incredible depth by using size and perspective to distinguish the foreground from the background. It is a subtle technique, but one that when mixed with the equally impressive use of shadow and light, successfully adds to the effect. The second tier of panels, which show each different characters' shock at first seeing the creature is a masterful example of Gilbert's ability to not only capture facial expressions perfectly, but also his excellent sense of character design, as each person clearly has their own distinct look and feel, from the shape of their eyes and heads, to the their unique, imaginative costumes. The third tier, which is our first direct look at the monster, is just one example of many in this first issue of Gilbert's vast imagination, and skill with which the artist is able to bring the creatures and worlds from his mind's eye to life on the page.

We are also introduced to two other well-known characters in this first issue – Hopey and Maggie. However, with only a brief 12 pages so far, at this point, the two young ladies still feel like new acquaintances who, having just met them for the first time, seem like the kind of people we'd like to become friends with, but at this point, we still need to get to know them better. Like Luba, it is the anticipation of watching them develop and grow as characters over the coming issues that I am most looking forward to.

Still, the few moments we do spend with Maggie and Hopey are the highlight of the first issue. Among Jaime's many talents is an excellent ear for dialogue. Hopey and Maggie bicker and tease each other like old friends right from the very first page (see excerpt above). Jaime also does an excellent job conveying their characters visually through the use of background details. In the opening panel, our very first encounter with these two characters, we see Maggie asleep on a sofa bed in a room cluttered with junk, presumably from the previous night's party. The subtle details of the room – the tilted lampshade, the overturned handbag, the clothes draped over and thrown underneath the sofa – all help to convey the somewhat irresponsible, youthful, party-girl personalities of the two main characters.

We can also see, particularly in the third panel, what a mastery of body language and movement Jaime has, as Maggie flops back onto the bed, hung-over and filled with dread at the prospect of work. In fact, both Gilbert and Jaime are far ahead of most artists in their command of the human figure, and throughout the entire book, their characters move naturally, without the stilted awkwardness that plagues even many established cartoonists.

Both brothers, but particularly Jaime, have a clear interest in experimenting with visual storytelling techniques and the way text interacts with art in non-traditional ways. This may be most noticeable in Jaime's 4 page story, "How to Kill a By Isabel Ruebens," which is a great example of simple experimentalism, with less focus on panel-to-panel sequential storytelling but rather the interplay between text and image. While the story itself is surreal, almost dream-like, lacking any real plot thread, what's fascinating is Jaime's mixing of the phrase "How to kill a" into each panel. Reminiscent of Will Eisner's classic Spirit splash pages, Jaime's story is an interesting exercise and one that holds tremendous promise for future storytelling.

Another example of the clever storytelling techniques Jaime uses is the way he opens and closes Maggie's flashback to the time she first met Hopey, in the four-pager "Locas, Tambien." Rather than altering the panel borders or text, Jaime uses bookend-style shots of Maggie's face, literally wrapping the scene within her head like a memory. Jaime's ability to show the characters at different ages, without losing their own distinctive look, is also an underrated skill that bodes well for future issues.

Oftentimes, critics talk about how a book has "good pacing," but rarely is it clear exactly what that means. Usually, it's more of a vague sense of how the book felt in terms of the whole reading experience. Though there are many examples of good pacing in this first issue, perhaps the best is the opening page of Gilbert's short story, "Music for Monsters." As you can see in the example above, the scene opens with an establishing shot that sets up the location of the story, introduces the main character, and creates a sense of mystery as well (whose body is lying in the desert?). From there, the scene progresses, with each panel representing a single beat in the action. From the look of recognition in the second panel to the subsequent killing of the giant fly creatures, the scene has a distinct, almost musical rhythm to it, like the clicking of a metronome. The artist's ability to convey the action without any words shows a keen understanding of how time progresses between panels.

Notice also, in the fourth row, the clever technique Gilbert uses to show the intense sunlight of the desert, and how the young woman, Bang, uses her hand to shield the sun from her eyes, focusing her vision. This is one of literally hundreds of subtle examples of how extraordinarily talented both brothers are at using the language and toolsets of cartooning.

One other thing that's worth noting is the influence of Mexican culture on these stories. In "Locas, Tambien," for example, not only is the title in Spanish, but a masked Mexican wrestler summarizes the "moral" in the final panel. In many of the backgrounds throughout "Bem," store signs are in Spanish. Characters often speak a mix of English and Spanish to each other, and in one case (Jaime's "Barrio Huerta") the entire story is in Spanish, albeit only one page. That the brothers bring so much of their personal identity to the characters, settings and stories only further adds to the realism, despite the futuristic settings.

Ultimately, the impression that remains after finishing this first issue is the freshness of imagination and the energy and enthusiasm that both brothers bring to their stories. While these characters in many ways seem like real people – they talk, dress and act in familiar ways – the worlds they live in are very different. Hopey and Maggie, Luba and Castle Radium all live in a futuristic sci-fi world where people ride hover cycles to work, robots attack, "buttinski blasters" are "the most devastating modern weapons" and monsters like Bem terrorize the Earth. This is what makes Love & Rockets, and indeed much of the best graphic fiction so memorable: the ability to take real, well-rounded characters, and drop them into reimagined worlds.

Overall, I found a lot to enjoy in this first issue, but I also found it difficult to complete. While the cartooning is clearly mature and accomplished, the storytelling and writing skills of both brothers have yet to fully blossom. "Bem," while full of enthusiasm and promise, failed as a story, for it couldn't tie together the many plot and character threads it started. Yet, despite its failings, this issue is filled with youthful creative enthusiasm, and I suspect that future issues will only further build upon what is clearly an already impressive artistic foundation.

Love & Rockets Introduction

2006-04-04T12:38:00.001-04:00

Twenty-five years ago, in 1981, Love & Rockets began, rather surreptitiously, as a black and white, 32-page, self-published fanzine.

At the time, I was only eight years old, hardly aware of the potential for mature, literate storytelling that is so prevalent in the comics industry of today. Rather, as the first issue hit the stands, I was undoubtedly reading Detective Comics, the Amazing Spider-Man, Fantastic Four and Star Wars (the Marvel Comics version). A comic like Love & Rockets, if I even saw it, would have had no impact on my young, superhero-addled mind. But, as time passed, and I grew up, my love for comics deepened, and my tastes changed. Today, I tend to read graphic novels, comic books published for adults by alternative publishers such as Drawn & Quarterly, NBM, Top Shelf and Fantagraphics.

But, despite my changed perspective, I never went back and read Love & Rockets. It wasn't that I didn't want to, it just seemed like such a daunting a task. For one thing, the issues were hard to track down. The trades were an option, but I wasn't sure where to start, and the few times I scanned them at the comics shop, I ended up feeling intimidated. Also, there's so much history to the series; I wasn't sure it was worth investing the amount of time it would undoubtedly take to go through all those stories. So, even though I had an inkling that I would love this series, I procrastinated and made excuses, while in the meantime, others, whose opinions I respect, raved and praised the series that opened the door for so many of today's alternative cartoonists, hailing it as one of the most significant and influential works in the history of comics.

The first volume of Love & Rockets ran 50 issues, ending in 1996, with a brief respite before Los Bros Hernandez, as Jaime and Gilbert (as well as older brother and occasional contributor Mario) refer to themselves, picked up their pencils and began a whole new era in the lives of their most recognizable characters. While the brothers are showing no signs of slowing down, it is their work on the first volume which has inspired an entire generation of alternative cartoonists seeking to find their voices through the language of sequential storytelling.

Now, thanks to the fine crew here at Sequart, I am excited to finally dive into the series that started the alternative comics renaissance. Shelf Life will be my most ambitious, long-term comics journalism project yet. I'm going to review all fifty issues of the first volume, and I'm going to try to put the series into context.

Now, you might be thinking, is this really necessary? Don't we already know how good Love & Rockets is? What's the point of reviewing comics that came out twenty-five years ago? For those familiar with my weekly column over at Comic Book Galaxy, I'm not approaching this project in the same way that I would my typical reviews. There'll be no grading or comments about what to buy or how to get it. It's true that these books have been around for a while, and their excellence is generally well-known. My goal here, instead, is to answer the question: what makes Love & Rockets such an enduring classic of the artform? I'm approaching this project as if I were writing a book, unfolding online one chapter at a time. If you're a longtime fan of Love & Rockets, I hope you'll enjoy reading my critical analysis as I experience these books for the first time. If, like me, you've never read them, I hope my writing will inspire you to, as Alan Moore puts it "…stop being such gutless and ineffectual wimps and go and do so immediately."

So how's this going to work?

Well, I just got the entire run of volume one off E-Bay (god bless Internet capitalism!), so my plan is to go through the series, issue by issue. I'm not going to skip around and read complete storylines, at least not the first time through. I'd rather experience each issue as they were originally published. I also make no promises how long this will take, or even if I'll make it to the end (though I can't see why I wouldn't), but I will say that my goal is to review somewhere in the range of two to three issues a month.

So you might be thinking, why the individual issues, and not the massive hardcover Love & Rockets tablets, Locas and Palomar? Well, three reasons:

Convenience - According to Amazon.com, Palomar and Locas weigh 5.2 pounds each, not to mention the oversized dimensions. The single issues are far easier to read in bed, on the train or anywhere, really.
Extras - There's always the little extra stuff that gets cut in reprint collections – letter columns, introductions, one-off strips, etc. and though it's often for the best, like trimming the fat off a turkey, I want to really experience these books as they were originally released. Plus, not every story was included in these latest collections.
Covers - Both Locas and Palomar don't include the original color covers (front or back) that graced the original issues.

I just finished reading the first issue, so I hope to have the first review up next week, so please tell all your friends who are into Love & Rockets to direct their hate mail to marcsobel@hotmail.com. Actually, all kidding aside, I whole-heartedly welcome any and all feedback from my readers. If you like what I'm doing here, please feel free to let me know. If you think I'm missing something, or just plain don't agree with something I write, I'd love to hear it. Really!

I hope, above all, that this will be fun. There's quite a lot of material to cover, and I hope you'll enjoy riding shotgun with me as I explore, for the first time, what many consider one of the greatest comics series ever published.