The greatest blessing of my life was when one of my students convinced me to start reading graphic novels. I asked each of my students to read a book each month and to share it with the class, telling them why he or she thought that reading the book would be worth everyone's time. I was flooded with books from Twilight to The Sun Also Rises. Some of my students even read books in other languages and shoved me into reading the translation. But a real confrontation gathered when one of my students insisted on reading graphic novels. On the surface of it, it seemed like cheating. The book he was reading had a tenth of the words that some of the other students had had to read for the assignment. Then I sat down with him to discuss the book he had offered to the class. I had had experience with comics like Spider Man and the Silver Surfer in the Sixties, so I knew something about art and language working together. But the book he offered was way past them in complexity and intellectual demands. Over the years, I make it a practice to read a graphic novel every two or three months. Two months ago, I read about the work of Gilbert and Jaime Hernandez. I only offer the first book of that series of graphic novels. The New York Review of Books promised their readers that Love and Rockets would open them to a new, unexplored world. With a bit of hesitation, I picked up this first compendium of the comics penned by the Hernandez brothers. To call these comics is a bit like calling Pride and Prejudice a romance. There are a thousand things you learn in the first fifty pages of the world of Hope and Maggie, two girls from the barrio in the US. Their relationship and the trials of their loves open us to lesbian, punk music and life, international espionage, intergalactic travel and predation, and a thousand, thousand other things. Do yourself a favor. Get Love and Rockets, Vol. I, and begin to get to know our two heroines and their "locas." At worst, you'll learn Spanglish, at best, you'll never think of the world or comic art in the same way. As we used to say in the Sixties, "It'll blow your mind, man."