Goodbye, Neil Gaiman

(Note: this piece deals with some uncomfortable subject matter. Please read at your own discretion.)

Remind me to never become rich and famous. Not only would I be unable to handle that, but additional scrutiny for my slip-ups would be bad psychologically. Besides, stories surrounding the rich and famous have turned me off altogether. Case in point? The recent controversy surrounding Neil Gaiman.

I don’t know Gaiman personally. He’s an influential writer and artist, even though he comes from a shady upbringing. That said, I’ve taken plenty of inspiration, directly and indirectly, from his stories. In fact, one of my manuscripts owes its format to a book he wrote. Since Gaiman’s writing style helped with my own, it’s safe to say I hold him in high esteem.

At least, I did until recently. It wasn’t news to me when it broke that Gaiman was accused of inappropriate behaviour, but I wasn’t prepared for how deep the rabbit hole went. But it went deep. Considering my admiration for Gaiman’s work, it was heartbreaking. Though let’s back up and add context.

A recent article, which is paywalled, in New York Magazine detailed Gaiman’s inappropriate sexual behaviour from several women over the last few decades, including one with a nanny. Gaiman, predictably, denies this. However, that it’s not one woman, but rather many, frustrates me. Gaiman had a wife, and they had a child. He could’ve been content raising their son happily. Why throw that away?

It also frustrates me because, like I said, I respected Gaiman. Perhaps I’m guilty of letting my attachment to famous authors blind me to their failings; after all, I used to love JK Rowling’s Harry Potter books! But while Rowling’s repeated transphobia makes it increasingly difficult to accept her work’s impact on me, she’s at least transparent about it. Gaiman was more secretive about his demons, preferring to keep them hidden. Rowling was a heartbreak, but Gaiman was a heart-shatter. It’s the difference between having someone openly betray you, and having someone quietly betray you.

I don’t know what to do now. Gaiman, like Rowling, is a famous individual in a profession I’m interested in. Like how Rowling taught me skepticism of authority, Gaiman taught me to dream for a better future. But while Rowling stoked my writing passions, Gaiman taught me form and content. That’s not literary license, either: Gaiman has videos on MasterClass, ones I’ve watched.

It's also frustrating because, unlike Rowling, Gaiman was actively respected and admired in the public eye until now. Adaptations of his books are still being made. He penned the English translation for Princess Mononoke, a movie many, myself included, hold dear. Even now, Gaiman’s in the midst of a cultural renaissance, brought on largely by The Sandman on Netflix. Rowling hit it big with one series, but Gaiman hit it big with his entire backlog.

Perhaps it was inevitable that this was bound to happen. Like “politicians aren’t our friends”, the mantra “never meet your heroes” seems to be evergreen. Even within Gaiman’s backlog, I think back to The Sandman story about Richard Madoc and the muse he abuses. Madoc touts himself in public as a feminist icon, all while trafficking Calliope secretly. Was this simply Gaiman warning us about himself? If so, what does that say?

I don’t know. While I’m horrified that my fellow artists continue to “not be normal”, I also can’t control others. Simultaneously, I recognize the impact Gaiman has had on me, one I can’t shake. Like I said, he inspired one of my manuscripts! He also penned the translation to one of my favourite films! Do I pretend his influence hasn’t been felt? And if I do, am I being honest?

I’ve hammered this to death, but it’s worth reminding people that I’m a victim of childhood sexual assault. I’m also a victim of adulthood sexual assault. Whenever I hear stories of those in power abusing others, it re-traumatizes me. It makes me feel insecure about my own potential to abuse others should I become powerful, which is why I don’t want to. Especially if it makes me another Rowling or Gaiman.

At the same time, I don’t want to throw my passions into the trash. I love writing! It’s one of the few skills I excel at, and it brings me pleasure to write pieces people read and enjoy. I can’t begin telling you how many people, some strangers, have told me, openly and privately, that they enjoy my stuff. It makes me feel good. I won’t give that up because someone I respect has let me down.

I’m left at a crossroads. It’s not like Rowling, where she directly benefits from all of her IP, even as she destroys people’s lives. I don’t know how much control Gaiman has over his adaptations. He must have some, but to what extent remains uncertain. At least, it remains uncertain to me.

That said, my adoration of Gaiman’s now gone. This much I know for sure. Gaiman can feign his innocence, but that doesn’t exonerate him. He made his bed, and now he must lie in it. If saying that makes me a “bad person”, so be it. I’ve heard worse.