Nightmares and Scandal: Should Neil Gaiman’s Dark Tales Still Be Read?

A contributor at The UK Spectator proposes that we should not withdraw Neil Gaiman’s controversial works from circulation, as it is important for children to have the opportunity to enjoy reading his enchanting novel, Coraline.

Regardless of the validity of the accusations against Gaiman, there has been a quick and severe response. Some of his upcoming creative endeavors have been terminated. The Netflix adaptation of his comic book “The Sandman” is expected to conclude prematurely. Furthermore, a much-awaited stage production of “Coraline” will not materialize. Now, publishers are hesitant to handle Gaiman’s graphic novel manuscripts.
The downfall of his literary empire brings about significant and far-reaching consequences, especially for those working on these diverse ventures. However, it might be the young readers who will miss out most sadly in this tragic tale, as they will no longer have the opportunity to discover his works.
Initially, I came across Coraline when I was a teenager, and it instilled thrilling nightmares in me for weeks; I read Good Omens all at once. Not only did I admire his writing, but I also fell for the man himself. Gaiman has an intriguing history; born Jewish and raised as a Scientologist, he was a prodigious reader by the age of four. As a grown-up, he departed from the Church and wed musician Amanda Palmer, who seemed captivating and attractive to my teenage self.
As I gazed upon Neil Gaiman, his distinctly Semitic features, kind demeanor, and vast array of leather jackets stirred memories of the fathers I encountered daily at my school playground during drop-offs. In my eagerness, I blundered by overstepping boundaries with Gaiman.
Regardless of what Neil Gaiman may or may not have done privately, it’s crucial to distinguish his art from his personal life. His work offers no indication of any harmful views towards women. The term ‘strong female lead’ might be grating, but it aptly describes the abundance of complex and well-developed female characters in Gaiman’s novels. Characters like Anathema in Good Omens and Lettie in The Ocean at the End of the Lane are prime examples, possessing depth and nuance that make them compelling.

The columnist points out that several notable female characters were not fully developed or portrayed well in various comic book series, such as Calliope in Sandman issue 17, Lyta Hall throughout the series, Zatanna in the Books of Magic miniseries, Sersi in the Eternals miniseries, and Jean Grey in 1602. The author suggests that these characters were underrepresented or misused in their respective stories.

I’m envious of children who are just discovering Neil Gaiman’s works for the first time. While they won’t get the chance to experience his adaptations live on stage or TV, I fervently wish that his books will continue to be available in school libraries.
If we choose to stop supporting Gaiman’s work, it might be fair to expect similar treatment for other authors. However, the ethics of separating an artist from their art is an age-old quandary. While adults can make informed decisions about the art they engage with, canceling a well-known children’s or young adult author presents unique challenges because children don’t have the same autonomy in choosing their reading material. Even if Gaiman’s actions are questionable, that doesn’t mean his work should be banished from view.

Cough. I’m not advocating for outright cancellation, but I question why we should hand over money to someone whose work may not deserve it. One valuable insight from this controversy is acknowledging that authors are not always good people, and can be quite harmful, such as Roald Dahl and Enid Blyton, who are mentioned in the article. They have a darker side that’s worth noting.

Somehow, we kids figured out that Dahl had prejudices against Jews and Blyton may have held questionable views. This left us feeling puzzled, much like children do when they discover that someone they admire isn’t perfect. It’s hard to reconcile the fact that a person capable of creating such wonderful characters can also be less than lovable themselves.

Looking back on my childhood reading adventures, I’ve come to understand that not everyone stands by Roald Dahl and Enid Blyton without question today. While Dahl’s family has apologized for his past racist remarks, it’s important to note that Blyton was once considered worthy of commemorative coins, but those plans were abandoned due to her own racial insensitivities.

As for Dahl, while some of his tales were wonderfully imaginative, I found the humor in others to be quite crass, and the Big Friendly Giant from 1982 had some rather off-putting aspects, including the nine cannibalistic giants. It’s also worth mentioning that the Oompa-Loompas in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory were initially portrayed as racial caricatures.

Enagaing Blyton’s work, I found that some of her books, such as The Wishing Chair and The Faraway Tree, showcased creative storytelling. However, among the numerous books I have read by her, there were a couple where characters like “golliwogs” – a controversial doll figure with racial undertones – appeared. I also remember an illustrated short story from “Tales of Toyland,” possibly titled “The Sailor Doll’s Misadventure.” In this story, a sailor doll upset the other toys in a family’s collection by placing their belongings in a child’s piggy bank for money. As retribution, the other toys deceived him into surrendering his clothes for washing while he was bathing in the dollhouse bathroom and then put those in the piggy bank too, preventing him from attending a party due to embarrassment about his “skinny legs.

Indeed, a golliwog figure also appeared in those stories. As a child, I didn’t fully comprehend that such depictions were derived from racial stereotypes; however, today, they cause me great unease. These grotesque dolls largely stopped being produced by the early 90s. What adds to the discomfort is Enid Blyton’s pro-Nazi stance, which led her husband Hugh Pollock to eventually divorce her. I remember two of Blyton’s stories where Nazi sympathizers were not explicitly mentioned but still present, and she had no qualms about portraying Black characters in a negative light, particularly in “The Island of Adventure.” While I don’t advocate for censorship of older works, I question the necessity of preserving them for young audiences when there is an abundance of less tainted material available. To be honest, when I reflect upon some of her books that I read, they were generally not worthwhile, and even Roald Dahl didn’t always write classics.

In the past, some critics accused Enid Blyton’s books of being “homophobic.” However, it seems this accusation might be based on misunderstanding the meaning of the word “queer” in the early 20th century. At that time, “queer” was often used interchangeably with words like “peculiar,” “weird,” and “strange.” For example, even some early Marvel and DC comics used the term in this context up until the mid-1960s.

Additionally, it’s not uncommon to find British-influenced spellings and slang in scripts of these comics from as late as the 80s. The term “queer” fell out of common use due to its association with homosexuality, which became more prevalent in the UK.

What modern critics may be missing is that if Blyton did have a lesbian affair, as suggested in this article, it contradicts the idea that she disapproved of homosexuality.

It’s important to note that there was a distinction overlooked by the Spectator columnist when comparing Dahl and Blyton to Gaiman: while both Dahl and Blyton may have had questionable personalities, neither has been accused of physical crimes like those committed by Gaiman (although Dahl’s criticism of Salman Rushdie was highly controversial). When someone behaves so badly, it is understandable that reasonable people want to sever ties with them because no ethical person would want to support an offender financially. Additionally, why should children be exposed to a potentially disturbing novel if its horror elements are not appropriate for them?

The columnist for The Spectator is facing criticism for asserting that Neil Gaiman’s works lack lasting value due to their recurring themes and allusions throughout his extensive body of work. Moreover, the claim that he functions as a “public moralist” adds to the controversy. Additionally, his association with Scientology raises concerns, while past actions hint at disregard for his Jewish heritage. So, why should we care about him?

Additionally, a writer from Rolling Stone had previously encountered Neil Gaiman, and in conjunction with remarks regarding Sean Combs, who faced allegations of sexual misconduct, this journalist shared the following account:

As a film critic, penning my thoughts on Neil Gaiman’s work leaves me feeling more wistful than words can express, making crafting this review one of the most challenging tasks I’ve encountered.
Back in 1990, I was close friends with Neil. I penned the initial feature piece about him and The Sandman for American publications. I found his tales to be incredibly innovative, and his capacity for imagination and intellect left me speechless. At that time, I remarked: “DC Comics’ Sandman is among the most revolutionary comics in today’s mainstream market. Written by Neil Gaiman – arguably the most productive and poetic British comic writer since Alan Moore – Sandman narrates the tale of a deity of dreams (or, as Gaiman describes him, ‘a human-like personification of dreams’), who seeks to establish order in the world of nighttime. By venturing into the shadowy realms where gods, demons, succubi, and fragile humans dream, Sandman must also grapple with their deepest wounds and aspirations.

Could it be that Gaiman’s Sandman, with its blend of drama and horror, is being hailed as “innovative”? Alternatively, could the writer be suggesting that the series employs symbolic leftist themes? Unfortunately, many of these opinion pieces fail to clarify what they deem masterpieces when it comes to writers like Gaiman. As for the term “radical,” it might not accurately represent the 1989-96 Sandman series unless used in a derogatory sense to suggest something extreme or beyond the mainstream.

I felt delighted when Neil Gaiman and D.C.-Vertigo requested me to compose an introduction for the final volume of the Sandman hardcover reprint collection. The last time I interacted with Neil was in May 2019, at the Good Omens premiere held at the Hollywood Cemetery. Since then, we’ve kept in touch through emails and occasionally on Facebook. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to meet again as planned. I never had a chance to meet Neil’s wife, Amanda Palmer, although he did invite me to visit his home in Woodstock, New York, which was previously owned by Bob Dylan’s manager: “I acquired the house where Albert Grossman resided, where the cover photo for Bringing It All Back Home was taken.
Similar to most people, I was utterly unprepared when allegations of Neil’s sexual misconduct – his supposed mistreatment of numerous women – surfaced last year. These stories seemed incongruous with the man I had admired, respected, and enjoyed knowing for years. The Neil Gaiman that I knew was courteous, intelligent, talented, and caring. However, the Neil Gaiman portrayed in a January New York magazine article was nothing like that, except for his now tarnished reputation. In response to that article, Gaiman stated on his website, “I have never engaged in nonconsensual sexual activity with anyone. Ever.” The contrast between these two Neils is shockingly stark. While people often have hidden aspects to their lives, and their sexual activities can sometimes remain private, not all secrets are appropriate to know. Sexual activities, whether they involve infidelity or multiple partners, can alter our perception of a person. However, the actions Neil is accused of go far beyond deceit or immorality. They challenge our sense of right and wrong, tarnishing our previous impression of his character and art, because artistic depth does not justify causing harm to others. If someone believes their depth allows them to commit such actions, then they no longer possess a depth we can trust.
In 1990, Neil shared with me: “Sandman isn’t exclusively a horror book. While horror can often reveal the truth about our lives, it’s a lie that tells the truth – making it an optimistic genre in a way. However, I aspire for the stories to be as diverse and unforeseeable as dreams themselves. This means that Sandman should be prepared to venture into the human subconscious wherever it may lead, even toward the darker realms of internal mythologies.
“Horror is very often the lie that tells the truth about our lives.”
Those phrases keep recurring in my mind, refusing to leave me alone. Occasionally, the things we hide or falsify can reveal aspects of ourselves that we didn’t realize. Sometimes, the darkness within our lives might be what others remember most about us. At times, our own suffering can spread to those around us, and no matter how eloquently we lie, it won’t change that fact.

Oh, come now. Is there truly an overabundance of optimism in the horror genre? Quite the contrary, I’d say. However, Neil Gaiman certainly managed to encapsulate himself brilliantly, and his fascination with horror elements arguably ventured a bit too deeply.

Additionally, there has been further coverage regarding the victims of Gaiman, as reported by New Zealand’s Stuff. It appears that Scarlett Pavlovich now regrets writing any positive comments towards Gaiman during their interactions.

The woman involved in a lawsuit against fantasy author Neil Gaiman and his former wife, accusing them of sexual abuse, expresses her frustration towards herself for having sent warm, friendly messages to the author.
[…] Pavlovich shared during an episode of the Tortoise Media podcast, led by British author Rachel Johnson, that she was “moving from a state of victimhood to that of a survivor.
In the podcast, Johnson implied that a string of loving messages to Gaiman seemed to corroborate assertions that their relationship was mutually agreed upon.
Pavlovich stated in a message: “It was mutual, for how many times must I emphasize this?” or “Pavlovich wrote in a message: ‘It was agreed upon. Could I make it clearer?’
In a recent note to you, I expressed: ‘I consider you an amazing individual and a cherished companion. Rest assured, I would never associate our relationship with such inappropriate behavior as the #MeToo movement advocates against.’
Pavlovich told Johnson that she was angry with herself for those messages.
She stated that the messages were challenging for her due to her own confusion,” she said. “She was extremely frustrated with herself.”
She informed Johnson that initiating a lawsuit in American courts was intimidating, yet she was speaking the truth.
“This is terrifying, because it’s opening myself up to every which way of scrutiny,” she said.
The reason I’m not being investigated isn’t due to any untruthfulness or deceit on my part. Instead, it’s because the law’s role isn’t to thoroughly examine him; rather, it’s always to scrutinize me.
The memory of the worst and most distressing event in my life continues to cast a deep shadow over me. This experience, which came dangerously close to ending my life on multiple occasions, also left me contemplating suicide last year.

As a passionate film enthusiast, it’s disheartening to see individuals like Neil Gaiman, who seemingly possess the uncanny ability to discern when someone is too shy to express their true thoughts. However, the tides are changing as more victims of celebrity misconduct are finding their voices and taking action. When they choose to file a police or legal complaint, it significantly bolsters their claims against Hollywood predators. I sincerely hope Pavlovich and other victims are faring well and have success with their upcoming lawsuit against Gaiman.

2025-02-21 17:31

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