Category: Bits & Bobs

The Bastard on the Bookshelf

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*Trigger Warning: This post is going to get personal and includes topics that could be triggering, including SA, rape and child abuse. I’ve purposely withheld graphic details, but please proceed with caution.*

“Monsters come in all shapes and sizes. Some of them are things people are scared of. Some of them are things that look like things people used to be scared of a long time ago. Sometimes monsters are things people should be scared of, but they aren’t.”

Remember this quote from this post? If you’ve googled the author of said quote lately, the irony here is like a gut punch. Neil Gaiman, as it turns out, has been hiding his own monster for a while.

Somehow I missed the initial accusations leveled against Gaiman in 2024 (to be honest I avoid the news like the plague for my mental health) for sexual assault and rape incidents against five women. Today, I see that number has now reached eight, with the inclusion of child abuse.

Let me tell you, I really didn’t want to read that article. I wanted to throw my phone across the room and rage against people who make false accusations against good people. Because I desperately didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t want one of my favorite authors to be yet another man who exploited my trust. And let’s be clear, while these allegations are absolutely horrifying and this pales in comparison, there is an entire fanbase of people who were led to believe Neil Gaiman was “one of the good ones”—a vocal advocate and champion of women and abuse victims. So many of us connected with his work on an emotionally intimate level that now feels grossly violated. Some of us also feel this violation on a whole other level beyond standard disgust.

You see, I am a survivor of rape, sexual assault, and domestic violence. I have CPTSD, severe anxiety, and clinical depression that all stem from various traumas. My abusers were people I was supposed to be able to trust. People in positions of power and authority. My abusers were humans that are loved and seen as good people, “who would never do such a thing.” But people do, in fact, do such horrible, horrible things to each other. So let me make it clear, that when accusations are made against people that seem harmless or above reproach, I will always give presumed victims the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise. Would I love to see Neil Gaiman legitimately exonerated? 100 percent. But I’m not holding my breath here. There are too many corroborating details from his victims to not see the truth. My heart breaks for the women who have been hurt by this man. The little girl in me wants to rage for the child caught up in the middle of all this vile behavior.

I’ve seen some posts and statements saying the signs were there all along in his work. It’s dark and twisty, and at times, downright creepy. And maybe this is true. Or maybe it was actually good stuff created by a not-so-good person. I can sit here and tell you all the works of music, art, literature, media, etc. that I’ve loved only to later find out their creators were deeply broken humans who abused others.

Perhaps that’s why this hurts so much. Because some of my best work has stemmed from my own dark and twisty places that I don’t want the world to see. Maybe I innately recognize the traces of pain-inspired art because it calls to something that others broke in me. But I’m also not out here abusing other people behind closed doors for the sake of my art, or any other deviant reason. Over the years it’s become clear to me that there are two types of people who channel personal pain into their art. Those who use it as a means of catharsis, reclaiming autonomy, and healing. And those who treat their pain as a muse, feeding on it like an addict. But sometimes, it’s near impossible to discern where that line exists and you’re blindsided when you finally figure it out.

So what do you do when your heroes fall from grace?

Do you discard their creations, ban or burn their legacies?

Do you separate the art from the artist?

Do you keep the bastard on the bookshelf?

Lost and found and random thoughts

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I love old books. Not just for the smell, or the delicate pages, or the heady recognition that many different hands have held this book, some of which are no longer alive. Old books have secrets, and when one happens to share even a hint of its past with me, I suddenly feel like the luckiest reader in the world. When you find one of those treasure troves of old novels or poems, tucked into little crowded bookstores, on the very bottom shelf that has you down on all fours, you just know that something brilliant is about to introduce itself.

Inscriptions are somewhat sacred—a beautifully scrawled dedication to a lover or dear friend, in a manner that has long been forgotten, a persistent declaration of the existence of someone before you. These can offer a beginning, a glimpse of the first hands that held your book. But I look for the tale hidden between the pages and behind the lines. Little mementos of sunny afternoons in a field of wildflowers—purples, cobalt, and corals—one of which has made its way to the beginning of a chapter that says so much more than its words. The postcard from a lonely soldier missing his mother; tear-stained edges worn with wear because the mother kept it near in every book she read, until her baby finally came home. Or a lovely little valentine, with an embossed purple heart against a bed of crimson poppies, declaring ardent love for “My darling Gemma.”

Some of my favorites are simple—receipts detailing purchases of buttons and ribbons, or pretty scraps of paper that brightens the yellowing pages. But my most treasured find from an antique copy of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, was a photo of a young woman astride a proud mahogany horse, her laughter clear in the genuine smile that’s been captured. I guestimate the photo was taken in the 40s based on the smooth curls around her shoulders and the jaunty dark cap on her head. She’s got that effortless glam look going on and I can’t help but wonder if this book belonged to the person behind the camera, someone who made this beautiful girl laugh. And then I questioned how something like this is lost. But truth is, much to my dismay, I too have lost this treasure in the mix of one too many moves. I like to imagine the next reader who will happen upon this prize, and which of my books will give it up. Will they consider all the possibilities of its origin? These tokens of the past become immortal with every journey, telling a new story to each reader lucky enough to find it. And you realize that these little secrets aren’t yours to keep, but just a glimpse into the life of a book that has chosen to share it with you.

I recently found a fabulous little website called Forgotten Bookmarks, run by a rare bookseller. Pages upon pages of things found in books are photographed and shared, cataloguing the brilliant and unforgettable. I have could spend hours looking at them, searching for that one hint that tells just a bit more than usual. And I consider all the things still out there, tucked between the pages. All those little secrets, just waiting to be found.

Reading From the Other Side of the Tracks

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I’ve never been one to suggest reading books that don’t appeal based on genre, subject, or synopsis. But, if you choose not to read certain books just because they fall under one of those genres—sci-fi, fantasy, or romance—then you are an elitist snob, and we don’t want you in our club. Yes, we name call here, and if you can’t handle it you likely wouldn’t enjoy these genres anyways.

To deny yourself the pleasure of these genres based solely on how it makes you ‘look’ is to deprive yourself of some fabulous reading material. Some of my favorite quotes have come from these genres, and some of them are downright brilliant. And of course, the context in which they’re found is sometimes both ironic and hilarious. Case in point: a friend recently asked for everyone’s favorite quotes on love, and I sent her this line,

“Love is rarely flawless…Humans delude themselves by thinking it has to be. It is the imperfection that makes love perfect.”

She adored the quote and asked me what it was from. I told her Succubus Blues by Richelle Mead. My ears might be bleeding from her screeching laughter.

“Are you actually giving me love quotes from a Succubus?”

“Well, yeah…”

Anyways.

But seriously, good portions of those quotes you share on social media are from authors in these genres. Next time you repost a quote from an author you’re unfamiliar with, I dare you to immediately look that person up and then march yourself down to the library for any one of his/her books. If you like the quote, you’ll probably like the rest of the book too. Just sayin’.

Don’t rob yourself of the joy that is American Gods, Solaris, or Practical Magic (This is totally the safe stuff, guys. Message me for the really juicy, campy goods.) If the title or cover art doesn’t do it for you, take another look. I will admit that I’m guilty of judging a book by its cover, I mean who doesn’t like to look at pretty things? And damn, some of those covers are just gorgeous (I’m looking at you, Euphoria.) But sometimes the packaging is deceiving, and it can go both ways. I’ve read some horrendous books that had a fab title and cover art, yet that book on the bottom of my pile, the one with a title that made no sense and a cover that had me sighing in disappointment, turned out to be my favorite of the haul. I often think that the artwork of these genres does a huge disservice to their content. I mean, can we get any more stereotypical with the busty broads, galaxy shots, and broadswords? Don’t answer that. Although the fantasy genre does seem to be making a greater effort lately—Have you seen the cover of The Golem and the Jinni? Total eyegasm.

The point is this, step outside your literary box. Jump the tracks to the not-so-literary side and you might surprise yourself with how many crossover novels you find. Exploration of character isn’t limited to 19th century Russia. Sometimes it’s found in a place outside of time and space, and sometimes it’s found on the moors of Scotland. And if you happen to get lost in another world, is that really so bad?