When Heroes Disappoint

When heroes disappoint

One of my favourite writers of the last few years has been Neil Gaiman. I particularly enjoyed The View From the Cheap Seats. It’s a fascinating glimpse into one writer’s ideas about life and writing.

I’ve also enjoyed his fiction. He’s prolific and has an amazing imagination. Smoke and Mirrors, a collection of his short stories is a testament to the breadth of his work.

But recently it is becoming clear that Neil Gaiman is not an entirely admirable human being. Several women have come forward with allegations that he acted inappropriately with them. Particularly troubling is the suggestion that he sexually assaulted a young woman hired to look after his child.

Gaiman insists that none of the activity he engaged in was not consensual. This seems to me a weak and incomplete rationalization for improper behaviour.

Another writer I have recently come to admire is Alice Munro. She is venerated as one of the best short story writers ever and won the Nobel prize for literature.

After Munro died in 2024, her daughter revealed that she had been sexually abused by her stepfather while her mother Alice did nothing to protect her.

It seems that two of the greatest writers of our time were either actively or passively involved in sexual predation.

As readers and writers who take inspiration from Munro and Gaiman, how are we to react to these revelations? Do we refuse to read anything by them? Do we even try to find some way to claim that we never really liked their writing?

The answers to these questions aren’t simple. When we find literature that we admire, we usually don’t think too much about the character of the writer. If we find out a writer is a good person, it usually doesn’t change our ideas about their work. Until we suspect that a writer is some kind of monster, we don’t care much about their personal lives.

I still admire the writing of Neil Gaiman and Alice Munro, but if I had known earlier about their characters, it is likely that I wouldn’t have read their books. I don’t know whether I’m interested in reading any Gaiman and Munro that I haven’t already read. I’m not sure I can completely justify that conclusion. Perhaps it’s easiest to just put it down to human nature.

We like good people and enjoy being in their company. When people disappoint us with their behaviour we tend to avoid them. Maybe reading someone’s writing is a bit like being with them. In the very best books, you can feel writer talking to you.

Another disturbing aspect of badly behaved writers is the fact that we can often see hints of their failure in their writing. You don’t need to look far into Neil Gaiman’s catalogue to find kinky sex and depraved lifestyles. Alice Munro’s stories featured abused children, negligent parents and relationships built on lies.

When I see these parallels between stories and reality, I wonder what is cause and what is effect.

In Munro’s case, it seems that her short stories of dysfunctional families were responses to the terrible life she was leading and a way to talk about problems she refused to come to terms with. Writers tend to write about themselves, and our stories are ways for us to examine our own lives.

But I wonder if stories can also be an excuse or even catalyst for terrible actions. If a writer has secret desires and fantasies, is it possible that by putting them on paper, he or she has made them just a little more palatable?

While writers use their lives as fodder for their stories, it is important for us not to let the wildest of our ideas slip out into our everyday lives.