As expected (and predicted), creator Gilbert Hernandez delivers a fantastic close to New Love. And even though I figured he had it coming, Beto makes a bunch of surprise moves and callbacks, making New Love a cohesive series instead of just an anthology.

First comes the “Letters from Venus” entry, which I’m tempted to call the best in the series. And not just because Beto takes everything back to Palomar in the end. Or has a scene where Venus discusses Kirk and Spock slash fiction with Aunt Fritz.

It’s a somewhat lyrical summary of Venus’s family life as it goes through a momentous change. Mom Petra and step-dad David are breaking up. So this story recounts some milestones in their relationship and marriage, specifically how the two families integrated. There’s not just Venus bonding with her (previously unseen) teenage step-brother, Rogelio, but also how the adults react to the children embracing them as parents.

Beto does a fantastic job, especially the hurried but never rushed character development. It’s mainly about Venus’s relationship with Rogelio and how it affects them. Of course, since Rogelio’s new to the strip, Beto carefully lets these revelations further contextualize the previous “Venus” entries.

I don’t think it’s the best “Letters from Venus” in New Love, but it’s very (albeit awkwardly) wholesome and good-hearted.

The next strip is the single page “Slugs of Palomar.” It’s awesome. There are some funny gags about the slugs and proper consumption; it’s also an exquisite way of leaning into returning to that strip. It’s a teaser, reminding Beto’s not just still interested in the series, but also he’s still really good at making it. There’s also a visual nod to a previous New Love strip, which will be a recurring thing as Beto wraps up the series here.

Next is a four-panel gag strip (about a mansplainer arguing and just asking questions), which is cute. But then the next strip is a killer “porno” one-pager, only with very regular-looking folks. It stars Roy and his girlfriend from New Love #4. There’s no story, just their apparently fun and fulfilling sex life.

Then is a two-page strip about a cartoon mole who wants to go up and see the sun for the first time. His girlfriend, a rabbit, doesn’t want him to do it. A duck and a bear are going to figure in. The ending takes a very black comedy turn, but the strip’s always quirky because the animals are anthropomorphic but with their junk hanging out. It’s a success.

Next is “Shout Ramirez and Her Very Best Friend Dinky.” They’re members of the Leaping Elite, which is basically adventurers who’ve been trained since childhood to leap great distances in single bounds. They’ve got super-thigh muscles to let them do it. Shout’s the brash loudmouth lead, Dinky’s her quiet and devoted partner; Dinky’s also madly in love with Shout and hasn’t told her.

The strip takes a twist in the finale—where Dinky also looks like another Beto character, but it’s not clear if they just look similar with the same expression or if there’s an intentional connection. There’s a definite intentional connection in their adventure, which has them trying to stop a rampaging love gremlin, the gigantic babies who first appeared in New Love #2. It’s all connected.

It’s a great story, showing off how well Beto could do a superhero strip if he wanted, with a genuinely disquieting conclusion.

After “Shout” is another one-pager, but six different two-to-six panel strips with the same protagonist and some commentary on his odd (and gross) behavior. It’s an excellent, quick bit of work from Beto.

Finally comes “Abraxas,” the other feature. There’s “Venus” then “Abraxas.”

“Abraxas” is a semi-sequel to a story of the runaway mobster’s moll and the hunchbacked gravedigger who loves her from New Love #1. However, there’s a slightly different vibe to the tale, which follows two suspicious characters who are in town for the “sighting.” They spy on their targets and bicker with each other about who’s being too flirty with who.

A lot of the strip builds up to the two big reveals, but then when the action kicks in, Beto does this beautifully fluid sequence. It’s moody, funny, bloody, and more than a little haunting. It’s the most ambitious story in the issue and the best.

But New Love isn’t over yet. There’s a one-page strip with Venus and her Aunt Luba talking about reading. It quickly becomes a conversation about comic books and Beto breaking the fourth wall to remind his readers to, you know, read more comics. The good ones. It’s a perfect finish to the series.

Outside the one lackluster issue—by Beto and New Love’s standards—the series has been outstanding and unexpected from the start. This finale, bringing it all together, is terrific. Beto makes incredible comics.

I’m trying not to be too hard on this issue of New Love, but it definitely seems like the one where creator Gilbert Hernandez ran out of momentum, if not enthusiasm. It’s strange because last issue had a teaser for the stories in this one, then these strips are kind of blah. There are some good ideas; Beto just doesn’t have full strips for them or a cohesive theme.

Other than non sequiturs, including the narration of a story not matching the visual content and general non sequitur usage in the strip to move things along.

The first story is a recounting of the La Llorona legend. It’s pretty good but slight. There’s some good art—lots of moody black panels; not really any style cohesion either. There doesn’t need to be, of course. Though it would make up for the lack of a character arc for the gruesome protagonist. I guess the Heaven scene’s funny from a specific point of view.

Then comes the first of the three ”Heroin” strips. If they’re about heroin, they’re disconnected heroin dreams. The first one is a sci-fi swashbuckler romance set to text about a guy who repulses the object of his affection. Beto writes it pretty well—demanding attention—and even if it’s bewildering, it’s intentionally so, and very well-drawn.

The second “Heroin” strip, which comes later but let’s get through them all, is a one-pager. It’s Beto detailing a guy doing a physical comedy gag. It’s, you know, totally fine, and if it came in another issue, there might be more to get excited about. But in this one, it just lends to the slapdash nature of the book.

Not the third “Heroin” strip, which is the best story in the comic. It’s a dystopian future thing where a woman gets interested in the mutant children living in the ruins of the old city. There’s a lot of drama, a lot of humanity, and absolutely no exposition establishing the setting. It’s real good. Even if the finale’s a little rushed.

The issue’s got a very sci-fi vibe to it—it’s the most Rockets, literally, New Love has felt–including a story about a superhero unintentionally spoiling a little kid’s birthday. It’s got a peculiar, unrelated title. There’s some nice art, including what appears to be a Superman: The Movie reference. Overall it’s disjointed and hurried; nice art, but overall disjointed and hurried describes the whole issue.

Finally, there’s a “Letters from Venus” entry. It starts with Venus explaining to her cousin—the framing device is Venus writing letters to her cousin—this story doesn’t really matter. Way to flex.

It’s about a time Venus went to a nude resort with mom Petra, aunt Fritz, and grandma Maria. Maria hasn’t been in New Love before, but she was in Love and Rockets a bunch. It’s not really her story, though. If anyone’s, it’s Venus and Fritz’s; they show the most agency. Beto has some good dialogue, and he enjoys drawing nudity. He just doesn’t have much of a story, something the strip even acknowledges with one of the segues.

I guess if you’re going to have a middling issue, best to save it for five of six. So instead of focusing on the tepid strips here, you remember all the good ones.

It’s not even bad, just not near the usual standards. I’m sure Beto’ll turn it out for the finale.

Creator Gilbert Hernandez starts the issue with the “Letters From Venus” entry, the second feature (as in the second half of a double feature). At six pages, it’s the second-longest story. Besides the A feature, “Venus” is the only other story longer than a page. Beto’s got two and a half other single-page strips in the issue. The half because one of the stories is a montage sequence.

“Venus,” both the story and the character, introduces the cast of characters to the issue. Venus won’t be around for most of the main feature (for good reasons, I’ll mention in a moment), but her observations kick everything off for the comic. Her story starts with Sergio—Pipo’s football star son—arriving to drive Venus home. Venus has been hanging out at Pipo’s for the day, but she’s too busy to take her home. Of course, once we find out what Pipo’s too busy doing, it seems like she could’ve run the kid home, but whatever.

Instead, heartthrob Sergio will take her home; he just needs to stop along the way a few times. The first time is in a bad neighborhood, the second time is with some New Age goons, the third ties back to Pipo, then finally Venus gets home. As usual, Beto does a fantastic job using Venus as the protagonist and narrator, and the story’s chill. It’s got some “growing up” moments–like realizing “just because they’re nice to you” white ladies can be garbage racists—and it’s gritty but genial.

Then comes two of the one-pagers. First, we get a recap of Doralis’s popular television show—I wonder how New Love read without having read Love and Rockets; Doralis’s rise to TV fame was a significant subplot in that comic. Then the next one-page strip is a scene with Fritz and Petra hanging out with Doralis and realizing her TV show isn’t just a variety dance show anymore, but sort of an investigative reporting dance variety show now. It’s a nice strip, with Beto extending the traditional comic strip beats out to nine panels.

The feature story is called “Mama’s Boy” and is about Sergio and Pipo. And what people think of Sergio and Pipo, with Beto using documentary interviews as a framing device. Along the way, we find out Sergio’s side of the opening “Venus” story, but Beto also plays with the timeline a bit. For instance, the opening story has Sergio interacting with Fritz and Petra, but this feature story does a lot to retroactively inform those interactions.

Beto maintains a triple-layered narrative throughout the story (thirteen pages but really twelve and a cover), occasionally dipping into a fourth flashback layer. They all progress chronologically, with it eventually becoming clear the “Venus” story takes place in between one of them. There’s more character work for Pipo than Sergio; Sergio’s got to remain somewhat obtuse not to give away the narrative device too soon.

It’s also a really sexual story, with Beto using gag nudity for emphasis. But basically, everyone’s got the uncontrollable hots for Sergio and Pipo, and they’re mostly happy to put out.

But there’s also a subplot about Pipo vindictively targeting a TV critic who doesn’t like her show, which might give the most guidance to sorting out the three action streams and how they fit with each other.

The story’s more about Beto’s inventive plotting and less about the characters, but it’s still quite good. It’s just not as effective as the “Letters From Venus,” which has the more sympathetic protagonist. There’s nothing unsympathetic about Sergio; he’s just beefcake.

The issue doesn’t end with his story, either. Beto brings it back for a one-pager with Venus and her family (mom Petra, dad, little brother), waiting for Fritz and Doralis to come over. Nine panels and it ties back to most of the stories in the issue, including the one-pagers, as they inform Venus’s perception of Doralis compared to the adults’ take. It’s a really nice way to finish the issue, which otherwise would read like a somewhat random anthology. It’d just Luba’s Friends and Family without the closer; with it, the issue does encapsulate the opening, Sergio-related theme.

Reading the issue is kind of just like reading Love and Rockets, which is also completely wonderful.

It’s a very religious issue. Creator Gilbert Hernandez does four saint pin-ups, each with a text paragraph describing their lives and sainthood. Beto calls the series “A Gallery of Humanitarians and Beloved Martyrs” and leans so heavily into it, the angry atheist protagonist of the final feature story is a big surprise. The pin-ups are the issue’s only recurring element, and they set some of the mood, which Beto further explicates with the final pin-up’s saint and story placement.

But while there’s religiosity at play—including in the story about some prehistoric humans (well, with some caveats)—Beto also includes some secular humanitarians. The first strip of the issue is about the iron lung; in a nine-panel grid (minus one for the title), Beto establishes the medical need for the device, how it works, problems in its development, and then the eventual success. It’s history comics in a page. Very impressive stuff and more successful than the later “Beto’s Notes” version of Moby Dick, which is a fine strip, but the iron lung strip is didactic; the Moby Dick one is instead a neat trick.

The issue has three feature stories.

First, there’s another “Letters from Venus,” which has Venus learning more about her parents—and how other people, specifically Aunt Fritz, see them. There’s also a nice “growing up” anecdote in there, albeit one with a lot more family drama than it’d be if Venus’s mom weren’t a Love and Rockets character.

It also takes place just after life on Mars has been discovered, something Venus muses about in her thought balloons as she roams around a festival where everyone’s in a costume. It’ll be interesting to see if Beto’s including that otherworldly detail as a throwaway or if it’ll actually figure into the strip going forward.

Beto does an eight-panel, two-by-four layout on most pages. He’s got fantastic pacing, and Venus is a great narrator. The art does require a lot of attention. Beto’s got no time for stragglers, with the big twist being a tiny movement in one of the panels.

It’s quite good.

And in no way prepares for the next story, the prehistoric human one. Specifically prehistoric men. Except they know about things like brain chemistry—without understanding it, they just know about it—and their world is full of strange creatures, like giant teddy bears and model airplane-shaped birds. Two guys are jealous of another’s fishing and hunting prowess; they also aren’t thrilled with him because he’s from another tribe.

The story’s thoughtfully paced and somewhat gruesome. There’s religiosity to it, although just at the base level. As a parable, it’s excellent.

The last story is where all the built-up religion comes out. The story is set in a toy land, where a jack in the box and his music box ballerina argue about his bad mood. The jack in the box, Bolo Cereal, is sick of racist, misogynist Republicans who claim they’re Christian without following any of Christ’s teachings. So wind-up ballerina girlfriend Fléchette suggests they go to church and see if it makes Bolo feel any better.

It does not and leads to a tragic, then mildly baffling, conclusion. The art’s fantastic on the story, but the art’s fantastic on the entire issue. There’s such a wide range of settings—modern-day California, prehistoric whatever, toy land—with Beto telling each story a different way, it ends up just being a showcase of Beto’s varied talents.

The Venus story could’ve been longer—but only because Venus is such a good protagonist—otherwise, there’s nothing to gripe about. New Love #2 is great comics.

I was unclear about a couple things when I started New Love. First, I thought it would be Gilbert and Jaime Hernandez splitting like the old days, but it’s just Beto.

Which tracks. Beto was more about the Love than Rockets.

Then I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to remember the main character from the first story from somewhere else. She’s an opera singer who, after leaving the opera, finds herself pulled over in a park by a walking owl creature. They have sex, and the owl creature transforms into a human, and the singer becomes an owl creature. Since I just read Beto’s porno comic, Birdland, it really didn’t come off too weird. Other than not being sure if I should remember the lead character from somewhere else.

It’s a good little strip—not really a story—with Beto doing a lot of stylized, art deco-ish art.

Then there’s an actual three-panel comic strip about Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. It’s funny and dirty and reminds of Beto’s excellent Frida biography from Love and Rockets: Volume One.

The issue’s got two main stories, one Luba Family—focusing on her tweenage niece, Venus (daughter of Petra, who appeared in Birdland and it also threw me)—and one Palomar. Or at least Palomar Extended Universe; it’s never explicitly Palomar, but it’s got the vibe.

Beto structures Venus’s story as a letter to her cousin, recounting an experience involving her mom, Aunt Fritz, a record store, and a gay porno comic. It’s only six pages, but it’s chockfull of dialogue establishing Venus as a protagonist to be reckoned with. She’s got an adoring best friend, Yoshio; they’re too cool for school—the scene with Fritz has them hanging out in a coffee shop, smoking cloves and drinking de-caf.

Eventually, it turns into this really touching story about Venus and Petra, with a lot of humor and profound embarrassment at one’s parent along the way. It’s a good one; no matter what else Beto did in the issue, the Venus story is enough to make New Love #1 a success.

Since it’s Beto, however, the second feature story—which is longer but has a lot less dialogue and a lot more mood—is also excellent. A femme fatale arrives in a rural, Palomar-y town and immediately captivates a local man, who happens to have a hunchback, an overbearing mother, and who communicates with a supernatural force living in a tree.

Beto plots it like a fairy tale, with the unnamed hunchbacked man consulting the force to accomplish various tasks, usually to garner favor with the femme fatale. The lead never speaks. His mom yells at him, the children mock him, the femme fatale’s rude to him—and the spirit talks a lot.

It’s a tidy little fable, very noir-ish, with occasional hints at tenderness. Not as good as the Venus story, but very good comics.

Then there’s a short (but not three-panel) strip crossing Fritz over with the opera singer. It’s got a great punchline.

New Love’s off to a fine start. Of course, it’d be surprising if it weren’t.