I'm always been on Team Jaime, man. It's the easier option - his art has a flowing beauty that remains intoxicating after years of high-grade comics. And his Locas tales are some of the greatest stories I've ever read in any medium, and have an emotional resonance built over decades of human growth. His comics span the length of a lifetime, and can be funny and goofy and scary in a way nobody else can touch.
Whenever I get a new issue of Love and Rockets - and it remains one of life's great little pleasures to do so - it's almost always Jaime's comics that I go for first. I always get to Beto, but it's the misadventures of Maggie and the gang that I always need to mainline.
Gibert's comics are still absolutely marvelous, and the older Hernandez can do something like a Poison River or a Human Diastrophism and make it all look so easy. And sometimes, his comics are the strongest thing in an issue.
Beto's story in the most recent issue is just staggering - the sheer simplicity of it, just two people in love, wandering around a bunch of sand dunes, and so happy in the moment. It's blatantly sentimental, and all the better for it, because we could all use a little more sentiment in these bleak fuckin' times.
There is also something about the way it compliments the story behind the cover of this issue - a tribute to somebody who gave up on some dreams of art for family, and ending up raising two of the finest artists in modern comics - that comes with a real emotional kick.
Jaime's Princess Anima thing has been going on forever, and has had nowhere near the soulful resonance of the Hoppers crew, but was never intended to be. It's been a blast to read, even if I could never quite untangle the convoluted continuity of this sci-fi wonderland, and has come to a surprisingly bloody climax. It's great comics, but Beto's stuff is more haunting, and somehow more essential for these times.
Love and Rockets is still the best comic in the world.
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