Same as everybody else, I think, it’s a case by case basis, weighed against my own baggage and preconceptions, balanced as much as possible with not compromising so far on morals, ethics or principles that I agonize over it.
I haven’t gotten rid of my Gaiman books yet, but I’m not going to be able to read them again without thinking about him, so eventually I’ll figure out how I want to dispose of them. I got rid of anything by Rowling years ago.
I think where we differ is abandoning a story, or a world, because it’s creator is garbage. I’m not saying I’m right and you’re wrong, just that we’re different on that point.
Part of it might be because of Star Wars.
Stay with me on this, it’ll make sense in a minute.
I grew up on the original trilogy. The prequels were enjoyable, except in episode 2 where Anakin was a creep and Padme was a cock-tease (this is through the lens of 20 year-old me, mind). So I made some head canon to explain it. When George killed extended universe stuff that he had authorized, more head canon. By the time the sequels came out, I could enjoy them for what they were without being upset like so many other nerds. I could do that because I had learned to choose what was canon and what wasn’t. It’s make-believe. And it’s now mine. The same is true for other IPs. And it’s my head canon. I don’t get upset if another nerd gets assertive about what is “real”. We each have a universe in our own mind, and that’s okay.
So yeah, Sandman is bigger than Niel. Hogwarts is bigger than Joan. If it turns out that George Lucas, Kathleen Kennedy, and Dave Filoni are in a cabal of pedophiles that eat babies and hate Africans, I’ve still got my little Star Wars universe, and it’s mine.
But I get it. I can’t listen to Chris Brown or Drake. It’s a matter of degrees I suppose. I’m typing this on a device made using child slave labor, produced by a company that poisons well water, and sold by a company that sells personal data to the highest bidder. That’s the world we live in. No wonder I take worlds and make them my own
Same as everybody else, I think, it’s a case by case basis, weighed against my own baggage and preconceptions, balanced as much as possible with not compromising so far on morals, ethics or principles that I agonize over it.
I haven’t gotten rid of my Gaiman books yet, but I’m not going to be able to read them again without thinking about him, so eventually I’ll figure out how I want to dispose of them. I got rid of anything by Rowling years ago.
I think where we differ is abandoning a story, or a world, because it’s creator is garbage. I’m not saying I’m right and you’re wrong, just that we’re different on that point.
Part of it might be because of Star Wars.
Stay with me on this, it’ll make sense in a minute.
I grew up on the original trilogy. The prequels were enjoyable, except in episode 2 where Anakin was a creep and Padme was a cock-tease (this is through the lens of 20 year-old me, mind). So I made some head canon to explain it. When George killed extended universe stuff that he had authorized, more head canon. By the time the sequels came out, I could enjoy them for what they were without being upset like so many other nerds. I could do that because I had learned to choose what was canon and what wasn’t. It’s make-believe. And it’s now mine. The same is true for other IPs. And it’s my head canon. I don’t get upset if another nerd gets assertive about what is “real”. We each have a universe in our own mind, and that’s okay.
So yeah, Sandman is bigger than Niel. Hogwarts is bigger than Joan. If it turns out that George Lucas, Kathleen Kennedy, and Dave Filoni are in a cabal of pedophiles that eat babies and hate Africans, I’ve still got my little Star Wars universe, and it’s mine.
But I get it. I can’t listen to Chris Brown or Drake. It’s a matter of degrees I suppose. I’m typing this on a device made using child slave labor, produced by a company that poisons well water, and sold by a company that sells personal data to the highest bidder. That’s the world we live in. No wonder I take worlds and make them my own