On page 63 of "Understanding Comics," Scott McCloud introduces the idea of closure, or "observing the parts but perceiving the whole." Heartbreak Soap is a graphic novel that demands that the reader actively participate in closure. Gilbert Hernandez has created a series of mini stories within the story of Palomar. By combining all of these stories, one can create an identity for Palomar. It is a community where every story is in some way related to another. The reader is the one who Hernandez asks to create a “whole” out of each of these moments.
One important way we create closure is through the actual stories. Between each there is a definite passage of time. A large portion of the lives of each character is left out yet we can perceive their entire existence. For instance, the ending of the novel focuses on the character of Israel. The last we heard about Israel was that he had an affair with Carmen and never returned to Palomar. A period of time occurred between the time Israel had the affair and when we see him next with the Old Man. As active readers, Hernandez asks us to create closure. He gives us parts of Israel's life (as in the ending of the text each section is a new episode in Israel's life) and we must perceive what has taken place between the then and now.
McCloud makes a very valid and very important point that as readers of comics we must "read" in between the panels. Yet, he also notes that in every day life we "often commit closure" (p.63). The stories given to us in "Heartbreak Soup" are everyday stories and we commit closure to piece them together. "Heartbreak Soup" is in a sense like a comic itself. Each story can be compared to a panel that is juxtaposed with another panel to form a complete sequence. The complete sequence does not end with the last image of Israel's ambiguous smile, but continues in the other stories in part two. There too, I’m sure Hernandez will require us to commit closure between Israel's smile and the opening story in "Human Diastrophism."
Showing posts with label Hernandez/Palomar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hernandez/Palomar. Show all posts
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Still In Palomar
I am more and more impressed with Heartbreak Soup. I don't know if we're still supposed to be looking at it, but I really can't stop. I keep dipping back into to take another look at this story or that. Particularly, I am loving the way that Hernandez tackles the subject of community and leverages his form in doing so. The way that some graphic serials work is perfect for telling the story of multi-layered, long-ranging community life.
The individual strips dip in and out of the town's history. They can be read individually, as little stories. In this capacity, they explore a single layer of Palomar, or a single concept (for example, "The Laughing Sun", one of my favorites, deals with the fact contrast between the way we expect things to turn out when we are young, versus the reality of what happens in adult life). Hernandez does a brilliant job with these stories because each one is filled with extremely keen observations about the way that humans behave, towards themselves and with one another.
Taken together as a collection, all of these little stories can be synthesized to represent a study of humans in community--with all of the heartbreaking complexity and fascinating incongruities. Again, Hernandex does this with gret aplomb, He the back-stories and side-stories he creates for each character are faithfully carried out throughout the timeline of the collection, making it so that the more you know from previous stories, the more any given story will mean to you. The characters are not-onedimensional in their motives, behaviors or impulses, but he manages to imbue each one with consistent personality-- throughout it all, Israel, with all of his varying behaviors, has the same heart.
Visually, he "grows" each character in such a way that they remain recognizable (with the occasional help of textual cues). His use of physical stereotypes common to comics and graphic novels, (muscular women, slick playboys, etc) is another very fascinating topic, and has something to do with this, but is mainly a discussion for another entry. The key is that, even while Hernandez maintains the consistencies the both form (graphic serial) and content (the story of a set of specific characters over time) demands, he never falls into the trap of stereotype in plot or, ultimately, in character.
Each person develops along a path that is believable and revealing, but also surprising and intriguing. While many of the theme that Hernandez explores are universal, each event befalls the characters in way that absorbs the reader into the narrative. In this sense, Hernandez walks a fine line, allowing is his audience to make explorations both narrative and pedantic, without falling into the trap of either.
The individual strips dip in and out of the town's history. They can be read individually, as little stories. In this capacity, they explore a single layer of Palomar, or a single concept (for example, "The Laughing Sun", one of my favorites, deals with the fact contrast between the way we expect things to turn out when we are young, versus the reality of what happens in adult life). Hernandez does a brilliant job with these stories because each one is filled with extremely keen observations about the way that humans behave, towards themselves and with one another.
Taken together as a collection, all of these little stories can be synthesized to represent a study of humans in community--with all of the heartbreaking complexity and fascinating incongruities. Again, Hernandex does this with gret aplomb, He the back-stories and side-stories he creates for each character are faithfully carried out throughout the timeline of the collection, making it so that the more you know from previous stories, the more any given story will mean to you. The characters are not-onedimensional in their motives, behaviors or impulses, but he manages to imbue each one with consistent personality-- throughout it all, Israel, with all of his varying behaviors, has the same heart.
Visually, he "grows" each character in such a way that they remain recognizable (with the occasional help of textual cues). His use of physical stereotypes common to comics and graphic novels, (muscular women, slick playboys, etc) is another very fascinating topic, and has something to do with this, but is mainly a discussion for another entry. The key is that, even while Hernandez maintains the consistencies the both form (graphic serial) and content (the story of a set of specific characters over time) demands, he never falls into the trap of stereotype in plot or, ultimately, in character.
Each person develops along a path that is believable and revealing, but also surprising and intriguing. While many of the theme that Hernandez explores are universal, each event befalls the characters in way that absorbs the reader into the narrative. In this sense, Hernandez walks a fine line, allowing is his audience to make explorations both narrative and pedantic, without falling into the trap of either.
Skirting the Law
Not to run the themes in Heartbreak to the ground, but it’s plausible to revisit the oversexed nature of the text from many angles. Instead of looking at what we’ve discusses before –deliberate physical attributes of characters or indisputable acts of sex - I’d like to focus more on how the character’s political stance shapes the reader’s perception of Palomar’s collective sexuality. Two stories in particular, Slug Fest and Boys Will be Boys, effectively use Chelo’s skirt law to differentiate between how a Palomarian woman perceives and presents herself with how a Palomarian man perceives her.
For instance, the last page in Slug Fest (168) depicts Diana and Tonantzin arguing over Chelo’s enforced skirt law for girls over eighteen. Diana reacts and declares she’s under eighteen, strips to her underwear, and runs through the streets. While Tonantzin chases after Diana in the last scene (168. 5), the reader gets closure with Tip’in, Tip’in, as he declares this a typical day in Palomar where the goddesses roam. While there’s already a lot of imagery in this story that sexualizes Tonantizin (164. 2-3, 165.1-3, 167.1), Diana’s rebellious act refocuses how Hernandez addresses the sexual tension. In an action that is fueled more by political statement than sexual desire, Diana portrays a reckless and limitless attitude towards her sexuality. Tip’in, Tip’in, in turn, becomes the male authority that brings this political act back into the scope of Palomar. The reader is left with a cyclic sense that Palomarian women’s sexual desire and desire for equality/respect will constantly negate one another.
Again, in Boys Will be Boys, a woman is disturbed about Chelo’s skirt law (197.6). The “Babosa Bimbo,” as she is called, thinks the law is “dumb,” and Anacleto agrees for obvious reasons (198. 2). The reader sees that both the woman and man in this situation are comfortable showing their sexual desire to the other. Hernandez undercuts the desire, however, using Luba to comment, in much of a political manner, that she “prefers it this way,” claiming that “if [men] ever used their brains we might have to start taking them seriously.” (198.5)
Further, beyond these two stories, Hernandez quite possibly undercuts every sexual desire/scene with a more poignantly-charged statement. Or vice versa, illustrated in the juxtaposition of the last scene in Boys Will be Boys (198.5) with the first page of Holidays in the Sun (199).
For instance, the last page in Slug Fest (168) depicts Diana and Tonantzin arguing over Chelo’s enforced skirt law for girls over eighteen. Diana reacts and declares she’s under eighteen, strips to her underwear, and runs through the streets. While Tonantzin chases after Diana in the last scene (168. 5), the reader gets closure with Tip’in, Tip’in, as he declares this a typical day in Palomar where the goddesses roam. While there’s already a lot of imagery in this story that sexualizes Tonantizin (164. 2-3, 165.1-3, 167.1), Diana’s rebellious act refocuses how Hernandez addresses the sexual tension. In an action that is fueled more by political statement than sexual desire, Diana portrays a reckless and limitless attitude towards her sexuality. Tip’in, Tip’in, in turn, becomes the male authority that brings this political act back into the scope of Palomar. The reader is left with a cyclic sense that Palomarian women’s sexual desire and desire for equality/respect will constantly negate one another.
Again, in Boys Will be Boys, a woman is disturbed about Chelo’s skirt law (197.6). The “Babosa Bimbo,” as she is called, thinks the law is “dumb,” and Anacleto agrees for obvious reasons (198. 2). The reader sees that both the woman and man in this situation are comfortable showing their sexual desire to the other. Hernandez undercuts the desire, however, using Luba to comment, in much of a political manner, that she “prefers it this way,” claiming that “if [men] ever used their brains we might have to start taking them seriously.” (198.5)
Further, beyond these two stories, Hernandez quite possibly undercuts every sexual desire/scene with a more poignantly-charged statement. Or vice versa, illustrated in the juxtaposition of the last scene in Boys Will be Boys (198.5) with the first page of Holidays in the Sun (199).
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Culture Clash?
Given that both of the graphic novels we have read thus far this semester depict different cultures I thought it would be interesting to consider the ways in which Yang and Hernandez use the form to portray racial stereotypes.
In American Born Chinese, Yang explores racial stereotypes and a journey to self-acceptance. His novel confronts and overcomes stereotyping through his characters' self-discovery. The Monkey King, Jin, and Wei-Chen all struggle with accepting themselves because of rejection from the world around them. The graphic novel, as a form, allows Yang to illustrate the change that takes place when Jin denies his Chinese heritage and becomes Danny in a way that a traditional novel could not. The visuals provided reinforce the positive theme of the novel by syncing up the internal and emotional changes the characters experience with the external appearance of the characters.
In Heartbreak Soup, Hernandez introduces the character of Howard Miller in the chapter entitled "An American in Palomar" in order to explore the way in which Palomarians are seen by outsiders. Up until this chapter we are focused on the characters interactions with each other and are not concerned with the influence of people outside of Palomar, aside from brief references to the States scattered throughout. Palomar still remains isolated from the prejudice of outsiders. Upon Howard Miller's arrival the reader is forced to step outside of the bubble of daily life in Palomar and to see the characters through a foreigners eyes. Miller has come to Palomar merely to exploit the inhabitants in order to garner recognition and fame as a photographer. Being privy to Miller's true motives, the reader is placed in a position to immediately dislike him. Through the introduction of Howard Miller, Hernandez illustrates not only the various prejudices Miller brings in but also the prejudices held by some of the Palomarians against Americans.
In American Born Chinese, Yang explores racial stereotypes and a journey to self-acceptance. His novel confronts and overcomes stereotyping through his characters' self-discovery. The Monkey King, Jin, and Wei-Chen all struggle with accepting themselves because of rejection from the world around them. The graphic novel, as a form, allows Yang to illustrate the change that takes place when Jin denies his Chinese heritage and becomes Danny in a way that a traditional novel could not. The visuals provided reinforce the positive theme of the novel by syncing up the internal and emotional changes the characters experience with the external appearance of the characters.
In Heartbreak Soup, Hernandez introduces the character of Howard Miller in the chapter entitled "An American in Palomar" in order to explore the way in which Palomarians are seen by outsiders. Up until this chapter we are focused on the characters interactions with each other and are not concerned with the influence of people outside of Palomar, aside from brief references to the States scattered throughout. Palomar still remains isolated from the prejudice of outsiders. Upon Howard Miller's arrival the reader is forced to step outside of the bubble of daily life in Palomar and to see the characters through a foreigners eyes. Miller has come to Palomar merely to exploit the inhabitants in order to garner recognition and fame as a photographer. Being privy to Miller's true motives, the reader is placed in a position to immediately dislike him. Through the introduction of Howard Miller, Hernandez illustrates not only the various prejudices Miller brings in but also the prejudices held by some of the Palomarians against Americans.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
More on Magical Realism
I'm guessing that this is a topic that will come up in later readings so I though it might be helpful to have a discussion about what we mean when speaking of magical realism. Certainly I don't intend to pin down an exact definition, but if we can speak to what does or does not constitute such style in Heartbreak Soup, perhaps future conversations on the matter can be more pointed.
So very generally speaking, magical realism entails the intrusion of something fantastical into an otherwise realistic narrative. Wolk cites some of the early Palomar stories as employing magical realism reminiscent of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's 100 Years of Solitude. Both works focus on tiny, isolated, fictional, Latin-American towns for a span of generations. Beto even pays express homage to Marquez by using 100 Years of Solitude as a catalyst for the argument between Heraclio and Carmen in "Love Bites." (213-223). Marquez's text is often cited as the "go-to" source for a primer on magical realism, because it contains so many different forms of it. For our purposes here, I'd like to focus on three of them as the apply to Heartbreak Soup.
Returning to my overly simplistic assesment that we have magical realism when the fantastic intrudes into the ordinary, but what constitutes the fantastic? Wolk contends that Beto's first few stories are grounded most in the magical realist tradition (for more on this see Kmurph's post, but for my money Duck Feet contains the broadest use of two major strategies):
1. Psychological conditions externally manifested. For example Guadalupe's fever induced hallucinations (262).
2. Phenomena for which no scientific/psychological explanation is implicit. For example the plague itself. We are only to assume that it is the result of a bruja's curse. This intrusion of the fantastical is perhaps most extreme because we are to take it at face value.
Obviously there are plenty of other examples throughout Heartbreak Soup. I'd like to know which ones the class found most effective.
So very generally speaking, magical realism entails the intrusion of something fantastical into an otherwise realistic narrative. Wolk cites some of the early Palomar stories as employing magical realism reminiscent of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's 100 Years of Solitude. Both works focus on tiny, isolated, fictional, Latin-American towns for a span of generations. Beto even pays express homage to Marquez by using 100 Years of Solitude as a catalyst for the argument between Heraclio and Carmen in "Love Bites." (213-223). Marquez's text is often cited as the "go-to" source for a primer on magical realism, because it contains so many different forms of it. For our purposes here, I'd like to focus on three of them as the apply to Heartbreak Soup.
Returning to my overly simplistic assesment that we have magical realism when the fantastic intrudes into the ordinary, but what constitutes the fantastic? Wolk contends that Beto's first few stories are grounded most in the magical realist tradition (for more on this see Kmurph's post, but for my money Duck Feet contains the broadest use of two major strategies):
1. Psychological conditions externally manifested. For example Guadalupe's fever induced hallucinations (262).
2. Phenomena for which no scientific/psychological explanation is implicit. For example the plague itself. We are only to assume that it is the result of a bruja's curse. This intrusion of the fantastical is perhaps most extreme because we are to take it at face value.
Obviously there are plenty of other examples throughout Heartbreak Soup. I'd like to know which ones the class found most effective.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Comprehension
Ya'll, apologies for not posting this last night-- the internet went down in my apartment building Sunday evening...
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Women in Palomar
Women have very interesting roles throughout "Heartbreak Soup." I would like to focus on the tale of "Holidays in the Sun" to emphasize the portrait of women presented by Hernandez, as well as their role in the novel.
Although completely surrounded by men, Jesus, still cannot escape the women of Palomar. They control his daydreams and his thoughts, forcing Jesus to live in a constant hell. Panel 1 on pg 203 provides the reader with a vivid descirption of not only the conditions in whcih Jesus is living, but the state of his mind. It is dark, dirty, and full of depressed, decripite looking men.
Jesus's sexual fantasies begin with Luba and change to his wife, Laura. The women control the men with sex or the desire of such in the town. Jesus cannot escape this control even though he is in prison. He tries to forget Laura by fantasizing about other women, Luba and Tonantzin, but cannot. Gilbert Hernandez does a very skillful job of conveying this through the two page (206-207) panels with no words to describe Jesus's fight with Laura and how he got into jail. These are Jesus's personal thoughts shared with us the reader. He is controlled by Laura, by the memory of her.
Furthermore, the only time he remembers feeling any love for Laura is when she was pregnant. I found this quite interesting. A woman is at her most feminine when she is pregnant. It is then that she fits into her maternal role as giver of life, creator of things. In these three panels on the bottom of 209 continuing on to 210, Jesus is below her. Laura is in the dominant position, once again in control.
The story ends with Jesus being told what to do by Laura, even in his day dream (panel 4, p.212). She states "Come along, Jesus, before the food gets cold." Jesus in the background looking very small compared to Laura who dominates half of the frame in the foreground. It is important to note that in panel 2, Jesus is dreaming of Luba adorned in animal print. His sexual fantasies turn into fantasies for the mothering Luba.
There are, as is evident in this story within the text, two images of women that dominate the text. The image of women as mothers and as sexual objects. Jesus's fantasies incorporate these two images and he has trouble at times discerning between the two. Laura is pregnant and naked at the same time. She is a mother and a sexual being. We see this as well in Luba. She has five children, but is also an object of desire for the men in Palomar. Women in the novel have the ability to control men because of these two powers. The power to be a mother, nuturing and loving while at the same time a fufiller of sexual fantasy.
Men on the other hand, do not have these abilities. As we see in Jesus's story, he is unable to father his child (as he is in jail) and when he acted as a father, he put his child's life in danger. We also see such inabilities when Jesus is an object of sexual desire for the other men in the jail. He turns them down (panels 5-6 pg. 202). Although there are a plethora of men in Palomar, the women stand out as the most prominent in the novel. Women in the novel are able to maintain their control over men because of their ability to be both mothers and sexual objects.
Although completely surrounded by men, Jesus, still cannot escape the women of Palomar. They control his daydreams and his thoughts, forcing Jesus to live in a constant hell. Panel 1 on pg 203 provides the reader with a vivid descirption of not only the conditions in whcih Jesus is living, but the state of his mind. It is dark, dirty, and full of depressed, decripite looking men.
Jesus's sexual fantasies begin with Luba and change to his wife, Laura. The women control the men with sex or the desire of such in the town. Jesus cannot escape this control even though he is in prison. He tries to forget Laura by fantasizing about other women, Luba and Tonantzin, but cannot. Gilbert Hernandez does a very skillful job of conveying this through the two page (206-207) panels with no words to describe Jesus's fight with Laura and how he got into jail. These are Jesus's personal thoughts shared with us the reader. He is controlled by Laura, by the memory of her.
Furthermore, the only time he remembers feeling any love for Laura is when she was pregnant. I found this quite interesting. A woman is at her most feminine when she is pregnant. It is then that she fits into her maternal role as giver of life, creator of things. In these three panels on the bottom of 209 continuing on to 210, Jesus is below her. Laura is in the dominant position, once again in control.
The story ends with Jesus being told what to do by Laura, even in his day dream (panel 4, p.212). She states "Come along, Jesus, before the food gets cold." Jesus in the background looking very small compared to Laura who dominates half of the frame in the foreground. It is important to note that in panel 2, Jesus is dreaming of Luba adorned in animal print. His sexual fantasies turn into fantasies for the mothering Luba.
There are, as is evident in this story within the text, two images of women that dominate the text. The image of women as mothers and as sexual objects. Jesus's fantasies incorporate these two images and he has trouble at times discerning between the two. Laura is pregnant and naked at the same time. She is a mother and a sexual being. We see this as well in Luba. She has five children, but is also an object of desire for the men in Palomar. Women in the novel have the ability to control men because of these two powers. The power to be a mother, nuturing and loving while at the same time a fufiller of sexual fantasy.
Men on the other hand, do not have these abilities. As we see in Jesus's story, he is unable to father his child (as he is in jail) and when he acted as a father, he put his child's life in danger. We also see such inabilities when Jesus is an object of sexual desire for the other men in the jail. He turns them down (panels 5-6 pg. 202). Although there are a plethora of men in Palomar, the women stand out as the most prominent in the novel. Women in the novel are able to maintain their control over men because of their ability to be both mothers and sexual objects.
Silence is Golden
I found that I really enjoyed Heartbreak Soup as I read further into it, and I think part of the reason for this is what I perceive as the maturation of Gilbert Hernandez’s style, particularly his use of word-free panels to emphasize a particular mood or series of events. While the very beginning of the book is characterized by text-dense and character-dense action, the end contains more character development and deeper nuances of feeling, and I think some of this is accomplished through these wordless transitions.
The most obvious example is cited in Charles Hatfield’s text, namely the finale of Duck Feet, a one-page overview of Palomar’s citizenry getting on with life after the plague of the Bruja (page 267), but that is not the first significant use of wordless panels. On pages 206-207, we have 18 panels of wordless action, detailing Jesus’s sad memories of his incident with Laura and his violent odyssey through prison.
These are the most significant examples, but there are others sprinkled throughout the book where you can see the author playing with this technique. Part 2 of The Laughing Sun has a very interesting moment (127.4), where Beto displays the brotherhood of the five men (and the complete exhaustion of Jesus) with a silent moment in the car, and On Isidro’s Beach has several wordless moments where Lupe encounters a couple and a frightening stranger behind some dunes (131.6 and 132.1 – 132.5). In Bullnecks and Bracelets, Israel’s flight to the fabled Bahia (286.3-286.9) is mainly wordless, and the very end (287.6) sees a subtle silent smile on Israel’s part after a phone call.
Too much of this wordless action could be overkill, but I think Gilbert Hernandez strikes a nice balance with it, and I found these scenes were among the ones that stuck in my head after I put down Heartbreak Soup.
The most obvious example is cited in Charles Hatfield’s text, namely the finale of Duck Feet, a one-page overview of Palomar’s citizenry getting on with life after the plague of the Bruja (page 267), but that is not the first significant use of wordless panels. On pages 206-207, we have 18 panels of wordless action, detailing Jesus’s sad memories of his incident with Laura and his violent odyssey through prison.
These are the most significant examples, but there are others sprinkled throughout the book where you can see the author playing with this technique. Part 2 of The Laughing Sun has a very interesting moment (127.4), where Beto displays the brotherhood of the five men (and the complete exhaustion of Jesus) with a silent moment in the car, and On Isidro’s Beach has several wordless moments where Lupe encounters a couple and a frightening stranger behind some dunes (131.6 and 132.1 – 132.5). In Bullnecks and Bracelets, Israel’s flight to the fabled Bahia (286.3-286.9) is mainly wordless, and the very end (287.6) sees a subtle silent smile on Israel’s part after a phone call.
Too much of this wordless action could be overkill, but I think Gilbert Hernandez strikes a nice balance with it, and I found these scenes were among the ones that stuck in my head after I put down Heartbreak Soup.
Hernandez's Magical Realism
While reading Douglas Wolk's essay Gilbert Hernandez: Spiraling into the System, I was interested by a comment he tosses out before quickly moving on, "The first few Palomar stories were pretty clearly written under the magical realist influence of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude" (Wolk 183). He claims that Hernandez then moves out from under this influence and instead embraces the "extended family" of the town. I would argue that, although the "mystical" aspect of the text bows at times to more realistic character development, magical realism remains an important aspect of Hernandez's exploration of Latino culture, as described by Charles Hatfield in Alternative Comics.
As Wolk describes, the circumstances of many of the events of the first few stories have an air of the fantastic about them. The obscure position of "banadora," Tipin Tipin hiding under the house until his broken heart is cured by the story's all-important soup, Israel's twin who disappears during an eclipse, Vicente's disfiguration, and the boys nonchalant acceptance of Pintor, and later, Toco and Manuel's ghosts hanging out around a bench--all create a sense of "other," of a place that is exotic and removed from our lives by far more than geography and the dramatic sexuality and tumultuous relationships.
Once Hernandez sets this aspect of Palomar in place, he can move on and explore other aspects of the story-rich town, reminding us in other ways of its unique nature. Hatfield mentions his fascination with space and time, devices that also speak to a nature of "magical realism."
Moving from panel to panel I notice his methodical control of chronology, his symbolic use of names, his creation of a "mythical" place, occasions of the fantastic--in short, something resembling a magical realism checklist.
So was Wolk right to downplay Hernandez's magical realism leanings? Or are the devices evident in Hatfield's analysis--and the text itself--enough to suggest the importance of the genre to Herenandez's themes? He is, after all, exploring a Latin American town, and magical realism is classically a Latin American genre. What other intentions might he have had? Should we be examining other texts--such as 100 Years of Solitude--to further unwrap the mysteries of Palomar? Or is it just an effective story-telling technique, with the cultural significance as a built-in bonus?
As Wolk describes, the circumstances of many of the events of the first few stories have an air of the fantastic about them. The obscure position of "banadora," Tipin Tipin hiding under the house until his broken heart is cured by the story's all-important soup, Israel's twin who disappears during an eclipse, Vicente's disfiguration, and the boys nonchalant acceptance of Pintor, and later, Toco and Manuel's ghosts hanging out around a bench--all create a sense of "other," of a place that is exotic and removed from our lives by far more than geography and the dramatic sexuality and tumultuous relationships.
Once Hernandez sets this aspect of Palomar in place, he can move on and explore other aspects of the story-rich town, reminding us in other ways of its unique nature. Hatfield mentions his fascination with space and time, devices that also speak to a nature of "magical realism."
Moving from panel to panel I notice his methodical control of chronology, his symbolic use of names, his creation of a "mythical" place, occasions of the fantastic--in short, something resembling a magical realism checklist.
So was Wolk right to downplay Hernandez's magical realism leanings? Or are the devices evident in Hatfield's analysis--and the text itself--enough to suggest the importance of the genre to Herenandez's themes? He is, after all, exploring a Latin American town, and magical realism is classically a Latin American genre. What other intentions might he have had? Should we be examining other texts--such as 100 Years of Solitude--to further unwrap the mysteries of Palomar? Or is it just an effective story-telling technique, with the cultural significance as a built-in bonus?
The Spell of Love & Death
For many reasons, I think the most layered storyline in Heartbreak Soup is Ecce Homo (pgs 137-152). The title references a biblical phrase that frequently labels paintings portraying Jesus wearing the crown of thorns. While I have difficulty understanding how this biblical image relates to this particular short comic, I acknowledge that it at least adds to Gilbert’s running tally of biblical references (which perhaps do more to comment as a whole on Heartbreak Soup than individual stories.)
Motifs more easily recognized and applied are images of love and death that undercut almost every other frame. We discussed in class how characters from other comics appear in Ecce Homo, even ones drawn by Hyme. While I can’t recognize who these characters are, I can recognize that they don’t appear in any other stories in Heartbreak Soup. This ensemble effect is interesting, almost like a celebrity cast has visited the set of Heartbreak Soup for some season finale (hence the Sophia Loren reference.) Yet, since I don’t know who these “celebrities” are, I have trouble drawing meaning from their presence. Many other background images, however, easily provide layering that affects every reader. The juxtaposition of the many skeletons (138, 2. 143, 6. 146, 6. 147, 3. 148, 7. 152, 6.) to the many floating hearts (138, 2. 138, 3. 139, 3. 144, 4. 145, 5. 146, 1.) heavily weight the Love and Rockets subheading. Frame 143, 6 is the most blatant in its imagery, as the skeleton appears as a sheriff, beside a man with devil-like horns and a fused bomb.
Many character’s behavior supports this imagery, and furthers the idea that love and death are in the air and are affecting how everyone acts. Heraclio, though married, runs around with his accordion telling the women they’re all beautiful. Another man, also married, fools around with Tonantzin in the woods, and the uptight and overly-serious Ophelia dances away like a free-spirit. Love spirits have seemingly taken over these character’s typical actions. In terms of death, phrases like “Now isn’t he the lady-killer already!” (141, 5), “Why hasn’t anybody killed you to put us out of our misery?” (146, 6), “Just you and a beautiful corpse in there all alone…” (148, 5) and the reminder that “Manuel was shot dead by yet another (deranged) lover…” (142, 2-3) imply a strong causation between love and death. After analyzing the motifs this way, one could argue that Gilbert chose Ecce Homo as the title to support this causation, using Jesus’ sacrifice as love and his crucifixion as death.
Motifs more easily recognized and applied are images of love and death that undercut almost every other frame. We discussed in class how characters from other comics appear in Ecce Homo, even ones drawn by Hyme. While I can’t recognize who these characters are, I can recognize that they don’t appear in any other stories in Heartbreak Soup. This ensemble effect is interesting, almost like a celebrity cast has visited the set of Heartbreak Soup for some season finale (hence the Sophia Loren reference.) Yet, since I don’t know who these “celebrities” are, I have trouble drawing meaning from their presence. Many other background images, however, easily provide layering that affects every reader. The juxtaposition of the many skeletons (138, 2. 143, 6. 146, 6. 147, 3. 148, 7. 152, 6.) to the many floating hearts (138, 2. 138, 3. 139, 3. 144, 4. 145, 5. 146, 1.) heavily weight the Love and Rockets subheading. Frame 143, 6 is the most blatant in its imagery, as the skeleton appears as a sheriff, beside a man with devil-like horns and a fused bomb.
Many character’s behavior supports this imagery, and furthers the idea that love and death are in the air and are affecting how everyone acts. Heraclio, though married, runs around with his accordion telling the women they’re all beautiful. Another man, also married, fools around with Tonantzin in the woods, and the uptight and overly-serious Ophelia dances away like a free-spirit. Love spirits have seemingly taken over these character’s typical actions. In terms of death, phrases like “Now isn’t he the lady-killer already!” (141, 5), “Why hasn’t anybody killed you to put us out of our misery?” (146, 6), “Just you and a beautiful corpse in there all alone…” (148, 5) and the reminder that “Manuel was shot dead by yet another (deranged) lover…” (142, 2-3) imply a strong causation between love and death. After analyzing the motifs this way, one could argue that Gilbert chose Ecce Homo as the title to support this causation, using Jesus’ sacrifice as love and his crucifixion as death.
America in "Heartbreak Soup"
A running theme I noticed throughout the first half of Heartbreak Soup is the way the characters perceive the United States. They seem to have an idea that it is a land of privilege and wealth. For instance, Manuel is rumored to receive all of his money from an ex-lover who lives in America, a fact that disgusts the people in town who actually work for their money. The children are especially fascinated by Disneyland and are eager to hear all about it from Soledad, who has recently returned from a trip to the states that included a visit to this fabled place. In spite of all of the action that is occurring in town, the children drop everything when they hear that Jesus has spoken to Soledad about his trip. However, his report is less than what they expected. Panels 4-6 on page 39 reveal that he hated Disneyland and the states, and that "Disneyland was just the states in miniature." Although they find Soledad to be a bit odd, the children cannot help but wonder if he is right. There is no mention of Disneyland in the rest of the first half, but this scene stuck with me. Soledad never expressed what it was about America that he did not like, or how these traits were present in Disneyland. We can only assume that he was unhappy there because it was not Palomar. The residents of this Central American town exist in a close-knit culture where any outsiders are immediately deemed suspicious, everyone sleeps with everyone else, and there are virtually no secrets. This is what ultimately leads to Soledad's downfall, for it is impossible for the town to keep Manuel and Pipo's affair from him. While I have no issue with Soledad's dislike of the United States, I am left wondering what it is specifically that he hates so much. One could assume that it was the materialism, commercialism, and media-controlled culture, elements that do not appear to be present in Palomar, but that seems too easy. I hope that this question is answered to some extent in part two of our reading.
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