Considering how much I’ve quoted Neil Gaiman (here, here, here, here, here and many other places on the blog) and how much his stories have influenced me, I feel a bit obligated to put this personal statement out.
What he did was really, really wrong!
The girls, the women, were wronged. Grossly so. Often violently so.
Never meet your heroes and idols with feet of clay and all that.
So I’ve given away (or deleted) all my Gaiman books, save two. My collected editions of Sandman. And my signed copy of What you Need to Be Warm.
While it is true that Gaiman shot to stardom with Sandman, that was not the reason I bought this collected edition. I bought it for the young boy, who would scramble the lanes of Matunga and Fort, looking for more erudite comics after reading Moore’s V for Vendetta and Watchmen. Sandman was something I discovered on my own and enjoyed so much.
Besides it was never about the writing at that stage. It was the stories. From all over the world and across cultures. That he’d reimagine for Sandman. (Ramadan, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Thermidor, The Dream Hunters … ) And even more importantly it was the pictures, the drawings, the gorgeous art. (Yoshitaka Amano, Dave McKean, Todd Klein, and all the others) So Sandman stays. And with What You Need to Be Warm, the money went to a smol shop and to a good cause both. So I don’t feel bad owning it.
“Man’s not dead while his name is still spoken” — Terry Pratchett
And so this is the last, I speak your name. You’re dead to me.
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