I think you have this exactly backward. He took the risks not knowing they would make him an international star. I submit that he only could have done that if he enjoyed not just the fruits, but the process. Several times he describes volunteering for things others wouldn't do. You wouldn't do that if you weren't at least indifferent, if not eager, to confront the danger.
> Several times he describes volunteering for things others wouldn't do.
But he also describes several times in the book about worrying what others think of him. He worries about how he will be perceived by his director, how he'll be judged by the public.
> You wouldn't do that if you weren't at least indifferent, if not eager, to confront the danger.
He literally describes in the book how he doesn't want to die.
Probably neither of us has the full measure of Jackie Chan, but I for one find it hard to believe in the picture of the happy-go-lucky daredevil action star.
This is almost tautologically true. Who starts fighting because they want to avoid getting hit at all costs?
The author wants to examine _why_ Chan drives himself, over and over, to the brink of life-threatening injuries, while we HN commenters - most of us anyway - do not. He fairly persuasively argues that it's a mix of extreme C-PTSD, childhood abandonment, economic destitution, and a near total lack of alternative opportunities.
Can that still be inspiring? To whom? To do what? These are the questions the author wants to ask. We can quibble over the answers. But either way, I find this type of critical perspective more intellectually provocative than taking Chan's plain-faced recollection for granted.