In October 2023, I received an unexpected Instagram message, followed by a lengthy email, from a young New Zealander named Scarlett. She alleged that an unnamed British author was a “predator” and “despot”. At the time, the name that immediately sprang to my mind was Neil Gaiman, the well-known British author whose works had a vast global reach.
Although I briefly dismissed the idea—after all, there was only one British male author with a connection to New Zealand and who had recently made headlines for breaking lockdown to fly to his home on Skye—my curiosity was piqued. And when Scarlett confirmed my suspicion, stating that the author in question was indeed Neil Gaiman, I felt a sinking feeling in my chest.
I had met Neil Gaiman on a few occasions. He was a regular fixture in certain literary circles, often attending breakfasts near Portobello Road, where he would join my group, clad in his signature black leather jacket, black Levis, and distinctive woolly hair. He had a loyal following, and I personally knew several friends who adored him. They urged me to disregard the allegations, insisting that Gaiman’s creative genius had inspired countless people, from children to adults, and that he had brought new audiences to books and comics.
Gaiman, like fellow British author J.K. Rowling, had been a catalyst in encouraging a lifelong love of literature, and his works—Sandman, Good Omens, and Anansi Boys—had become immensely successful, with adaptations across various platforms including Disney, Amazon, and Netflix. His status as a financial powerhouse within publishing, television, and film made him a prominent figure in the industry. On top of that, Gaiman had long been vocal in his support of numerous progressive causes, from refugees to trans rights, and had publicly spoken out about the importance of consent and believing women.
That Neil Gaiman?
Despite the magnitude of the allegations, I initially hesitated to dive into the story. However, as I finally took the time to investigate in early 2024, Scarlett’s account of her alleged assault was impossible to ignore. At the age of 23, Scarlett claimed that she had been anally assaulted by her boss, aged 61, in an outdoor bath on her first day of work. This was a man she had never met before, and her account was vivid and harrowing.
The challenge I faced as a journalist was not only the gravity of the allegations but also the difficulty in proving them. To avoid the risk of defamation under the UK’s stringent libel laws, I needed to find others who could corroborate Scarlett’s experience. Thankfully, Scarlett’s story was not an isolated one. Neil Gaiman’s wife, Amanda Palmer, allegedly told Scarlett that there were other women who had experienced similar issues. In fact, nine women have since come forward, reporting their own experiences with Gaiman, and many of them shared that the sex within their relationships was unwanted, uncomfortable, degrading, and transactional.
The New York Magazine article, which followed an in-depth investigation I worked on alongside Paul Caruana Galizia for the Tortoise Podcast Series, provided further insight into these disturbing claims. After the article’s publication, Neil Gaiman issued a statement of denial, claiming that he had “never engaged in unconsensual sex with anyone. Ever.”
However, this denial hasn’t stopped the tide of cancellations. This week, Dark Horse Comics, one of Gaiman’s major publishers, announced that it would no longer be publishing his works. In a post on X, the company stated that it took the allegations “seriously” and would sever its ties with Gaiman.
More Read
I’ve been reluctant to speak publicly about the situation until now, but I feel compelled to clarify my position. When I first broke Scarlett’s story, it was never with the intention of causing Gaiman’s cancellation. My goal was to highlight the compelling public interest in her allegations and the broader issues they raised about sexual abuse in relationships.
Scarlett’s plea was simple: she sought accountability. She wanted acknowledgment that her experience had been real, and that what she had endured was abuse. My reporting on this story was intended to probe the grey areas of sexual abuse within otherwise consensual relationships, a phenomenon often referred to as IPSV (Intimate Partner Sexual Violence). Sadly, these types of cases are among the most underreported crimes, with many women too afraid or ashamed to speak out.
For these women, their personal trauma is compounded by societal and legal complexities. They might not see themselves as victims, or they may fear the repercussions of speaking out, especially when the perpetrator is someone they love or live with. It’s a messy, nuanced issue—and one that requires empathy and care in its handling.
At the end of the day, my hope is not to destroy Neil Gaiman’s legacy or career, but to shed light on a difficult issue and to encourage accountability. What happens next will depend on how the public and the institutions Gaiman has been associated with choose to respond. But, whatever the outcome, it is crucial that we continue to have open, honest conversations about these matters.
