The issue's longest entry is a thirteen-pager by Jaime starring Maggie, the full-figured mechanic from East L.A. who's stuck in a dead-end life and has seemingly even lost the ability to dream her way out of it. Back when the first series of Love and Rockets began, Maggie's sci-fi daydreams were presented full-tilt, with very little undermining 'em. As the series progressed and we got to see the world she was really inhabiting, Jaime began to deliberately undercut our suspension of disbelief. All those early stories that we took at face value turned out to be the imaginings of a pudgy punk grrl. This ploy may've cost the artist some readers, but it also made his comics world richer for the rest of us. In the years since, Maggie & friends have evolved into models of naturalistic characterization that have been studied (and, in some cases, just plain swiped) by savvy comics scripters.

The Bros put L&R on hiatus for a few years. But when it returned, the quality of Maggie's fantasies seemed to've taken a turn toward the gothic: closer to the nightmarish realm of a schizophrenic writer than the glistening space age dreams of before. This grim trend continues in the most recent chapter. Maggie, working as an apartment manager, is forced to clean-up following an earthquake, picking up the shattered artifacts of their lives. Still separated from her former constant companion, Hopey, she fruitlessly yearns for a seemingly unattainable towering tenant and indulges in unresolved flirting with another. (Jaime's a master at illustrating unspoken sexual tension.) The dream that follows is of a menacing costumed figure (the tall lady tenant), a headless crucifix & a mutilated cat - no love or rockets here.

Whether Maggie's dream is a portent or merely a reflection of her own dissatisfaction is not resolved. Neither Jaime nor Gilbert are interested in too-neat explanations for either their characters' actions or their imaginings. Which is as it should be. Love and Rockets is more about character, mood & moments than it is about long-winded exposition. It's about comics in a world where scrabbling for joy is a daily chore.

Ain't a lot of graphic artists that are comfortable in this gray world - and even fewer suffused with the sheer love of comics storytelling that radiates from the Bros Hernandez. For fans of unadulterated grown-up comics, Love and Rockets continues to be as good as it gets.