The Art of Jaime Hernandez

Tim Hodler's got a great post about the upcoming Art of Jaime Hernandez book by Todd Hignite coming later this year from Abrams ComicArts. I can honestly say there is no book, not even Dan Clowes' Wilson, that I'm more looking forward to this year, so I was happy to see Tim gave it a mostly positive review.

But I wanted to respond to some of the points Hodler made in his post, and since I wanted to use images, I decided to post it here, rather than in the comments.

First, Hodler writes:

"I imagine most people first experience (Love & Rockets) in the collected volumes, in which the stories are mostly separated by artist. How many of their fans have never actually read an individual issue of Love and Rockets? The currently produced book-like issues still collect Gilbert and Jaime (and Mario) together, of course, and they still preserve the old brothers-putting-on-a-show feel to a remarkable degree. But for future readers, the original comic-book context—not just the intermingled stories, which often seemed to be commenting upon each other sub-textually (whether or not that was literally the case), but the letters pages, ads, short gags, lists, et cetera—may be as unimaginable, and unimportant seeming, as the context that surrounded serialized Victorian fiction (not to speak of that surrounding ancient Greek poetry!) is to readers of Dickens or Thackeray (or Homer) today."

Having spent years analyzing Love & Rockets, I completely agree with Hodler on this point. The first volume of Love & Rockets was originally conceived as a serialized comic book, and it loses some of its character in the current collections. Here are five things I came up with off the top of my head:

1. Oversized artwork - The original issues were larger than the new collections, and given how dense some of the middle issues get, the larger size opens the stories up and lets them breathe a little bit.

2. Front and back covers - The original issues featured stunning full color front and back cover illustrations, which are absent from the collections. The wraparound decade covers were particularly awesome, featuring scenes with all the major characters drawn by both brothers.

3. Letters pages - Hodler mentions this in passing, and he's absolutely right. The series included some pretty spirited and intelligent letters pages over the years. They also served as a who's who among later alternative cartoonists, showing the tremendous influence Los Bros had on the current generation of artists. Off the top of my head, Ho Che Anderson, Andi Watson, Evan Dorkin and Steve Rude wrote fan letters, and I'm sure I've forgotten some others. The first few issues also included some impassioned essays by Gary Groth that are worth reading for the die hard fans. None of this material has been reprinted.

4. Graphic design - It's an overlooked aspect of most comics, but Love & Rockets, particularly the latter half of the first series, included some amazing design work. The movie poster-style interior cover from issue #43 above, designed by Dale Yarger and Monster X, is something I would gladly frame and hang on my wall.

5. The interplay between stories - From the crossover cameos, like Maria in "Flies on the Ceiling" and Izzy in "Poison River," to the stray panels drawn by the other brother, these little hooks and inside jokes are completely lost when read out of context of the single issues.

Also lost is the subtle influence the Brothers had on each other. For example, Gilbert's storytelling style in "Bullnecks and Bracelets" (in issue #19), which jumps from one character to another in small chapters, was very likely influenced by Jaime's similarly organized "8:01 am to 11:15 pm" from issue #18. Similarly, the narrative style of Jaime's "Angelitas" in issue #45 is clearly inspired by Gilbert's "Pipo" in #43.

A case could certainly be made that the longer, multi-part stories hold up better in collected form than they did in individual issues. Certainly "Poison River," with its additional 50 pages and chapter structure reads better as a single book, yet still, little things are lost. For example, in issue #35, which featured the seventh chapter of "Poison River" and the fifth chapter of "Love & Rockets X." In "Poison River," Luba celebrated her 17th birthday, while in "Love & Rockets X," her daughter Maricela also celebrated her 17th birthday. By presenting the two stories in the same issue, Gilbert offered readers a fascinating contrast of mother and daughter at the same points in their lives. Admittedly, this is not critical to enjoying Gilbert's stories, but it's just one of those things that's lost in translation.

I don't mean to trash the new collections at all. I own them and they're certainly nice, and an incredible price point for new readers. And the sheer quality of Los Bros work is transcendent in any format. In the comments section of Hodler's post, Jeet Heer argues that "it's better to just focus on the stories and forgot about any attempt to re-create the original reading experience." That's probably true for the vast majority of readers, but I share Hodler's sentiment that this is a book that rewards those willing to track down the single issues.

Finally, one last point I wanted to comment on. Hodler writes:

"I keep wanting to see Gilbert’s art. I mean, Gilbert is certainly a near-constant presence in the book; Jaime and Gilbert’s careers are too intertwined to separate entirely in the text and photos. But I couldn’t help wishing to see some of his drawings included as well."

I whole-heartedly agree! I've never understood the people who don't like Gilbert's art. The man is one of the great character designers in comics history, and has proven he's among the greatest writers ever to work in the medium. I know it probably won't happen, but I would personally pay good money for a follow-up Art of Gilbert Hernandez book, and I'm sure I'm not the only one.

Daily Breakdowns 023 - Days of the New

Love and Rockets: New Stories #1 & 2
By Jaime Hernandez, Gilbert Hernandez and Mario Hernandez
Published by Fantagraphics Books. $14.99 USD (ea.)

There hasn't been a bad time to be a fan of Los Bros Hernandez since they started making comics almost 30 years ago, but it's sure a good time to be a fan now, what with collections of almost every old L&R story, plus various Beto projects for Fantagraphics, Dark Horse and Vertigo, like New Tales of Old Palomar or Citizen Rex. But now, at least as far as Fanta is concerned, the age of the floppy comic is winding down, and so the second volume of L&R stories, which lasted from 2001 to 2007, has begat these new, perfect-bound annual volumes.

In both, Jaime gets the lion's share of pages, which is understandable since Gilbert has the aforementioned other outlets for his relentless creativity. Jaime offers just one story, but it's a four-part, 100 page graphic novel, entitled "Ti-Girls Adventures Number 34." As the title hints at, this is a story where Jaime finally tells his own superhero epic, with an all-female cast. He's explored women wrestlers before, but this is really a superhero story, although one no one but Jaime could tell.

His beloved character Maggie provides the initial link to the familiar Jaime universe, but it's really about her neighbor Angel becoming suspicious of another neighbor and discovering she's a superheroine, Alarma, just like in Maggie's comics. She's drawn into a strange, daffy story that essentially hits some standard superhero beats like reforming an old team, bringing down a rogue, a hero gone bad, the evil twin, and an imperiled Earth, but they're all turned inside out. For as much as I think female superhero comics can benefit from more women writing them, Jaime's writing here seems more like what would really happen with a bunch of female superheroes. For one thing, they're much less judgmental. They realize everyone is going to make mistakes and lose their temper, and they're pretty understanding about it. When Penny Century (another L&R supporting castmate, here with her long-sought-after superpowers) loses control, there isn't a huge battle. The maternal instinct present in some of the Ti-Girls gives them compassion--they know she's upset over her missing kids. In most superhero books, when there are a couple female characters, they always seem to be competing or maybe talking about the men. When do they ever have fun and share jokes and really bond with each other? That's what I think would happen, more often than not. The goofy powers and slapstick are icing on the cake, but this is really just another very engaging story of sisterhood and the endlessly charming, mysterious and sometimes downright contrary magic of women.

So what does Gilbert bring? After a page of strips, two haunting and one just a cute fable, we get "Papa," a disturbing tale of a decent farmer experiencing a series of rapid hardships--a long fall, a terrifyingly swollen face from infection, and some angry shots from people scared of that face. But he enjoys kindness as well. It's a Job-like story without a clear reward, but it sticks with you, especially the odd boy he meets who's running away.

"The New Adventures of Duke and Sammy" reveals a hitherto unrevealed appreciation for Duke Mitchell and Sammy Petrillo, an obscure '50s variety act modeled on Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis (thanks to Johnny Bacardi for pointing out to me that Duke and Sammy weren't actually thinkly-veiled stand-ins for Dean and Jerry). This one is played for laughs, as the duo are zapped to another planet and find they have some strange new abilities, but it's not entirely a gag story. Gilbert really can't help being surreal, and the climax of the story is violent and more unsettling for the lighthearted comedy surrounding it. The biggest laugh may just be the reader imagining the reaction if this story was shown to the team back in the '50s as a proposed scenario for a movie.

"Victory Dance" is a highlight of the first book, as two lovers learn the one definitely does not have AIDS. The story seems almost chopped down from something longer, as it's difficult to make the connection from the first scene to the second, or reconcile Julio Juan's seeming happiness for his lover with his decision to go for a long hike on a snowy mountain and throw away his phone. An old women--the second kindly senior in the book--tells him not to waste his life, but is that what he was doing? Or is he wasting it now, away from someone he loves? Gilbert leaves it to the reader to interpret, and that gives the story its power.

Gilbert continues to show his range in "Chiro el Indio," a farcical story written by brother Mario, of a Navajo couple and the greedy con man scheming to take their land by preying on their superstitions, as well as Gilbert's own, "Never Say Never," which finds a poor kangaroo winning big in a casino with a coin borrowed from a giant, silent penis. It's kind of a '60s kids' funny animal comic colliding with dream imagery. Finally, Gilbert's contribution to #1 concludes with "?," which is more surreal dream imagery, masterfully told with stark contrasts of black and white, and benign, nursery images of toy ducks and a happy sun becoming horrific in a different context. Who wants the sun right-up-against-your-window, peeking in?!

#2 has Gilbert's "Sad Girl," which seems somewhat truncated but is appealing for another strange but sexy and irrepressible female character from Gilbert, as well as some amusing dialogue and great character designs. It's something of a change of pace, because Gilbert draws her very buxom and attractive but never even hints at a sexual side, and despite conversations with several male characters, no one seems to desire her, even her boyfriend.

The final story of Gilbert's for #2 is his longest, "Hypnotwist," which takes some of the nursery imagery and the mysterious door with the question mark and explores a longer, much uglier dream in which a woman in a short coat and perhaps nothing else falls into a nightmare world that indicates if she doesn't have a child soon, she is doomed to be exploited by men until she's used up, driven insane and destroyed. But the ending at least suggests she may have some resources available to her that will prevent that from happening.

Longtime readers may miss a more traditional Maggie story from Jaime, although the themes are hardly different in "Ti-Girls," while of course some Gilbert fans may want to see what Luba or other Palomar or post-Palomar characters are up to. But it's clear that the brothers are both still full of stories, and here they take advantage of the new format to try out a number of new ideas, with a high rate of success. Looking forward to 2010.

Christopher Allen