Sometimes, you just have to binge read Love and Rockets... In this fifth volume of Jaime Hernandez's Locas storyline, Maggie and Hopey are in their mid-30s, living the working class life in one of the worst places in America to be working class: Los Angeles. Hopey bartends while training to be a teacher's assistant, and Maggie manages an apartment complex in the San Fernando Valley. However, as usual, their lives constantly brush up against the remarkable, the strange, and the violent - this time, the lurid, liminal world at the margins of the Hollywood machine.
Suddenly one day, Maggie gets a fan: Vivian, a bombshell stripper and aspiring actress - messy, trashy, nothing but trouble, but at the same time a mesmerizing cipher. For reasons that Maggie can't fathom, Vivian acts as if Maggie is her best friend, entangling Maggie in Vivian's world of petty criminals, D-list celebrities, and men who routinely coerce women into sex at knifepoint. In many other stories, Vivian would nothing more than a hot body in the background of a noir that's mostly about men. But in Jaime's hands, she's a complex, astonishingly sympathetic character. She's a mean-spirited, manipulative racist and homophobe, a tramp who uses sex to get her way - shallow and vacant with a shrill, annoying voice. However, she's also a survivor - a woman whom men see only as a sex toy to be f*cked and slapped, but who manages to keep her head above water by raising hell and shoveling through all the bullsh*t. So when Vivian finds comfort in Maggie, tentatively reaching out to be held and kissed by her, she somehow becomes one of the most lovable characters Jaime has created.
As Jaime leads us through the world Vivian inhabits, full of sad, despicable people, we catch up with Ray Dominguez - man-child in his 40s who endlessly pines after Maggie and chases after Vivian trying to recreate glory days that are decades behind him. And, we witness the return of Doyle, who's become one of those burnouts who are so familiar in L.A. He still has his old charm, but now he walks with a cane as he boozes, hangs around strip clubs, and gets into fights. But he's running out of steam, and you know it won't end well.
There is a kind of melancholy that hangs over all these stories. Maggie, Hopey, and their contemporaries are all cut from the same cloth: folks who raised hell all through their aimless youths, but then find themselves in that mid-30s funk when you face the cold reality that you're about to enter middle age and are nowhere near where you dreamed of being when you were carousing through your 20s, high on life. "Is this all there is? Is all this my life?" they ask themselves as they stew on regrets that still don't prevent them from repeating the same old mistakes. And yet, Jaime makes these irremediable f*ck-ups so human and real that you can't help but love them for all their flaws.