Tags
Akira Toriyama, American Literature, anime, books, Derek Padula, Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, It's Over 9000 When Worldviews Collide, Literature, manga, Non-fiction, review
Ciao, my dear strangers đ
As a long-time fan of Dragon Ball, Iâve known for at least the last fifteen years that the original manga line is actually âover eight-thousandâ, not ânine-thousandâ. Even though I enjoy the (deliberate?) mistake in its execution, as well as the subsequent meme thatâs entered the popular lexicon of an entire generation, I have to admit I donât care for it all that much. I think that Brian Drummond gave a fantastically over-the-top performance when recording that line for the Ocean Dub, arguably the only reason that scene reached the heights of popularity that it did, but thatâs about the extent of it for me.
What Iâm far more interested in is that second part of the title or the subtitle â When Worldviews Collide. As an unapologetic Vegeta fan-girl, I never tire of analyses of his character, his motivations, his beliefs, the core of his being and his overall arc. He is undoubtedly the single most complex and developed character in Dragon Ball, bar none. His journey takes him from the highest highs to the lowest lows. Over the course of the franchise, Vegeta matures, adapts, suffers relapses, experiences crushing defeats and humiliations and matures some more till, at the end of the day, he finally discovers something truly worth fighting for. His character arc perfectly reflects the whole literary want vs. need development.
He is such a lovable bastard, so beautifully complex (and complicated!) that I sometimes have a very hard time believing he came from the pen of a creator as mercurial as Toriyama Akira. Just as Shylock is famously said to have been the character who âgot away from Shakespeareâ, so too do I think the same can be said of Toriyama and Vegeta. Dragon Ball, for the most part, is comedic and light-hearted, and the kinds of stories it tells are predominantly simple. By all accounts, Vegeta shouldnât belong here. And, yet, he does. He fits in the storyline so perfectly and occupies such a large, central space in it that itâs sometimes easy for fans to forget that there ever was a Dragon Ball without Vegeta.
Whilst I found this book slightly repetitive and while there were some annoying typos and other grammatical errors here and there, I still enjoyed the deep dive into the central charactersâ psyches. There are some wonderfully poignant lines in it that really make you stop and think about all the underlying messages of this seemingly simple story about muscular meatheads screaming and powering up. Padula says that Vegeta and Gokuâs first battle is âthe result of their different worldviews colliding, the prelude to an epic rivalry, and the fundamental source of their growthâ. I wholeheartedly agree with all three of those statements, especially the last one.
Growth is a fundamental part of Dragon Ball. Change is ever-present and constant. The first chapter opens up on a kid Goku, whereas the last presents us with Goku in his forties, a grandfather. We watch these characters age and grow, start families and constantly shift from one role to another. There is no status quo. Change is a chief component of Dragon Ball and is something that I really appreciate about it and that I donât see nearly often enough in other Japanese manga and anime. Usually, the storyline ends, and it is only in the very closing chapters or the epilogue or the sequel that we learn these characters actually grew older, got married, had kids. These other stories are basically telling us that the adventures end once you settle âdownâ and that nothing fun, important or exciting can ever happen to you again.
In an action-based, martial-arts-oriented story such as Dragon Ball, this change and growth naturally occur through combat. Combat and conflict are what allow the characters to push through their limits and achieve ever wilder and crazier hairdos. As Padula points out â Dragon Ball inspires. Characters such as Vegeta, lucky enough to get a second chance at life, lucky enough to suffer both a literal and a metaphorical death and be reborn as something different, something better, inspire.
As the author says, Vegeta, Goku and the rest of the characters continuously push themselves because they are aware of the key behind success and self-fulfilment: âSuffer the pain of discipline or suffer the pain of regretâ. And that is some powerful shit right there! Itâs something we should all remind ourselves of whenever we donât feel like that morning jog, whenever we do feel like a cigarette, whenever the declension of adjectives of the language weâre currently learning becomes so complicated we start thinking we may as well just give up.
Padula also briefly touches upon the very real, tangible impact Dragon Ball has had on peopleâs personal lives. The most touching of these stories is the one about a fan named Joshua who contemplated suicide before this show pulled him away from the edge. People often sneer at the love we have for certain fictional content, not really capable of understanding how something fictional can touch us so deeply. In my experience, people like that deserve only pity. As in â if a great narrative canât move you, what can? Humans, after all, are a narrative-driven species. Itâs like that meme of Vegeta telling the audience that thereâs no shame in letting an anime inspire you to exercise and live healthier. Why would there be?
The author makes several references to Taoism and how its teachings helped shape both Journey to the West and, subsequently, Dragon Ball. For this reason, Iâve decided to read Tao Te Ching next and learn what the Old Master himself had to say about life and happiness.
Keep reading, my dear strangers đ