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Separating the Writing from the Writer

Hi.

I’m a reader. I read like a hunter hunts. I read like a skier skis. I’ve read most things: Christie, Dahl, Dickens – you name it. Modern stuff too, like Alice Oseman and Richard Osman. But here’s the thing: all those dead writers? They’re… well, dead. The living ones? Mostly harmless—stories about gay schoolmates or little old ladies solving crimes.

And then there are the controversial ones. The names that send the internet into meltdown. Writers whose books are discredited simply because of who wrote them. Take J.K. Rowling, for instance. She shared her opinions—bless her—and overnight, fans went from worshipping her words to blocking her on every platform and burning her books… kind of like how feminists burned bras in the ’70s.

Now, I don’t have an issue with bra burning. I’m sure the women who did it found other ways to stop a cold on their chest.

But book burning—what the (insert word here) is that about? It doesn’t accomplish anything. It just stinks up the place and leaves a mess. Worse, it’s erasing history.

I can almost picture the book burners cackling as they toss their copy of Deathly Hallows into the flames—the same copy they queued at midnight to buy, signed by Rowling herself, with a certificate of authenticity tucked into Chapter 4. And let’s not forget, they’ve already paid her for it.

Rowling is a billionaire. She could pay my phone bill—and everyone else’s reading this—and still barely notice. She’d probably earn it back before you finish this sentence.

But love her or hate her, there’s no denying it: Rowling is a good writer. Harry Potter and Cormoran Strike carry weight—more so for Strike (cue the one random Strike fan reading this chuckling). These works will remain in the pantheon of British literary history until the cows come home. You’ve got to separate the writing from the writer.

This whole debate was sparked by Neil Gaiman. His name started trending for something unpleasant, and I couldn’t help but imagine Agent J from Men in Black bursting into my room: “A’ight, listen up. You’ve been doomscrolling Reddit, but here’s a thought—take a long walk and appreciate the finer things in life…”

For me, it’s about focusing on the stories. I love Neverwhere. I adore Coraline. And don’t even get me started on Good Omens—a book that is a child of Sir Terry Pratchett (GNU) and Gaiman. 

My favourite line from Coraline? “Coraline wondered why so few of the adults she had met made any sense.”

And with that, I’ll leave you to it. You’ve probably got a million other things to do—washing up, making dinner, or just going for a wee.

Bye.

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