Every week on “Sunday Page” an author has to choose a single page from a comic book. It could be for sentimental reasons o for a particular technical achievement. The conversation could lose itself in the open water of the comic book world but it will always start with the questione: «If you had to choose a page from a comic book you love, what would you choose and why?».
This Sunday I’m out with New Yorker cartoonist Tom Toro. You can follow him on Instagram or read his story here (it’s told in a more effective way than what I’ll ever be able to write).
Dragon Ball is a fond memory of a lot of kids, who grew up reading or watching the series.
It is. I chose Dragon Ball because those comics were really my introduction to graphic art when I was growing up. I would take the train into San Francisco for the sole purpose of going to Japan Town to buy the latest issue. (There was probably a bookstore closer to where I lived in El Cerrito that sold Dragon Ball comics, but it seemed like going on a pilgrimage to Japan Town was appropriate.) Here’s the thing, though: I can’t read a word of Japanese. I had absolutely no idea what the characters were saying. To this day their very names are a mystery to me. The language was just another design element that added extra detail to this dense, playful and strange black-and-white universe. I missed a lot by not being able to follow the plot, of course, but it did allow me to invent my own storylines and dialogue. (Most of which were proved wrong by what happened next in the series!) To me Dragon Ball was a world of pure image and wonder – graphic art, in the truest sense.
And what made you pick this issue?
There’s a sad reason why I picked this particular issue of Dragon Ball. It’s the only one I have left on my bookshelf, the last survivor of a nearly complete collection. Back in the sixth or seventh grade something possessed me to sell most of my comics to a friend. I don’t know why. I must have convinced myself that I’d outgrown them; perhaps it was one of those gestures of forced maturity that cause us to act against our better judgment during adolescence, liking smoking cigarettes or sipping beer. Also, I seem to remember that a girl was involved… (Cherchez la femme!) By selling off my anime comics I thought I might impress her – although I can’t explain how that would happen, exactly. Maybe she’d think I was a savvy businessman? More grown-up than the other boys? Too cultured for childish things? Who can say. What I do know for certain is that I regretted the transaction the moment it took place. Such a huge mistake! And the girl didn’t even care, naturally. My only solace was that I hadn’t gotten rid of the entire set. Waiting for me back at home, lonesome and orphaned, was the single issue I’d chosen to keep as my all-time favorite. Rereading Dragon Ball #26 today I can’t quite recall what about it made me cherish it above the others. (Knowing my indecisiveness, I’m guessing that I couldn’t make up my mind and just picked one at random as the deadline approached.) But it is a good example of the things I adore about Dragon Ball: breathtaking artwork, nonstop action, gratuitous violence and irreverent humor.
Right on. Let’s talk about this double page.
These two pages showcase Dragon Ball at its finest. (In my own estimation, of course, as a guy who valued fight sequences over dialogue-heavy scenes because I don’t understand the language.) The sheer energy conveyed from panel to panel is marvelous. The way the characters defy gravity and move with such strength and swiftness – it’s the way boys combat each other in our own imaginations. I remember running around playgrounds with my friends executing these complex ninja moves, and even if we must have looked like clumsy kids to an outside observer, in our heads we were epic warriors. Dragon Ball tapped into that dreamscape so vividly. Remember: this is nearly a decade before The Matrix. In 1991 the closest a kid could get to seeing characters fly, transform, resurrect, throw fireballs, was to read Dragon Ball. It was absolutely spectacular. And I’d argue that it still possesses something which is missing from The Matrix and other mind-bending action movies – namely humor. Moments of simple levity. You’d never see Neo pause in the middle of battling Agent Smith to give him a bite on the arm, for example. But in Dragon Ball that sort of thing happens all the time. Like in the final panels of this spread – we think the hero is about to get strangled, that he’s clinging on for dear life, when suddenly he sinks his teeth into the villain’s tail and elicits an almost comical slapstick reaction. The constant fluctuation between high and low, violence and farce, is what makes Dragon Ball so addictive and endearing.
Do you think this love of yours left some marks on your work as an artist?
I’d be hard pressed to identify any stylistic elements that I’ve borrowed from it and incorporated into my own cartoon art (they’re probably hidden in there somewhere if you look hard enough), but I will forever owe a debt to Dragon Ball for inspiring my love of drawing and visual storytelling.