I'm not the kind of reader who longs to see themselves reflected in works of literature. Quite the contrary, my tendency is always to seek the alien and the other. Yet, when I do happen to come across something really good that taps into my background and identity, I'm happy to have found it. Love and Rockets is maybe the most conspicuous example of a work like this. In particular, Jaime Hernandez's Las Locas storyline, whose first few years this volume collects, strikes me as what Gabriel Garcia Marquez might have made if his medium had been comics, and if he'd been reared in the kind of place I was: a Latine neighborhood in the southern California suburbs.
In these stories, Jaime has traced in real time the lives of the two central characters, the titular Locas - Margarita Chascarillo and Esperanza Glass, a.k.a. Maggie and Hopey - from their teenage years until late middle age. The social milieu by which they're surrounded in the imaginary SoCal town of Hoppers is, quite honestly, uncannily similar to the one in which I grew up in the south San Diego of the 80s and 90s. People sometime cordon off Latine-American culture from American culture at large, but somewhat like Maggie and Hopey, I grew up surrounded by teenagers who loved punk rock but also ranchera, cholos who read Camus and Unamuno, and white kids who spoke fluent Spanish. We spent our leisure time wandering around the neighborhood trying to scrounge up the change to get a burrito, hoping to score some beer, playing in garage bands and going to all-ages shows. Tagging was a recreational activity, and doing it didn't mean you were in a gang, though most of the folks in the richer neighborhoods always assumed it did. And, personal success meant finding a regular blue collar gig.
This is essentially the kind of world Maggie and Hopey inhabit, except that Jaime infuses it with just enough of the fantastic and the surreal to make his Las Locas stories excellent examples of magical realism in the vein of Marquez. In the world of Las Locas, Maggie is a mechanic, but while she can fix your car or your blender, she also occasionally gets sent to far-flung third world countries to fix rockets and robots. As often is the case in the real world, these countries are dominated by financial behemoths from the Global North, but in the world of Las Locas, these behemoths are embodied in supervillain-like psychotic billionaires: H.R. Costigan, who has devil horns; and Doctor Beaky, who keeps tiny Chinese twin girls as literal pets. Maggie is of a familiar sort: a gorgeous Latina who attracts men like flies, but is nevertheless wracked by low self-esteem because her curvy brown body doesn't look anything like the cover girls in magazines. Yet, this anxiety is given fantastical form by her friendship with Penny Century, the buxom blond who's lusted after by rich and famous men, and aspires to become a superhero. Maggie finds support in powerful older women like her aunt Vicki Glori and Glori's frenemy Rena Titañon, but the power of these women lies in their being champions in the world of Mexican wrestling.
In many ways, the anchor for all of the wild strangeness that Jaime infuses into these stories is Hopey, the tiny shaven-headed lesbian punk who thinks all of it is bullshit. In this first volume of the collected Love and Rockets, we see the early stages of the lifelong relationship between Maggie and Hopey. They have that distinctive sort of connection that women sometimes have with each other: friends, lovers, and sisters, or some curious blend that transcends them all. They're in many ways polar opposites, but their love for each other makes them almost two halves of a single being.
When I first discovered Love and Rockets as a kid, the bond between Maggie and Hopey was revelatory and formative. I'm half-convinced that it was essential to my developing distaste for misogyny that led me to turn away from the conservative Christianity of my youth. Returning to these stories as a middle-aged guy, I find them just as vibrant and wonderful as I did as a teenager - more so, in fact, because I'm in a better position to see just how insightful its magical realist touches really are.