Words from a Falling Idol

 "That was the most illogical Thanksgiving he could ever remember spending, and his thoughts returned wishfully to his halcyon fourteen-day quarantine in the hospital the year before; but even that idyll had ended on a tragic note; he was still in good health when the quarantine period was over, and they told him again that he had to get out and go to war. Yossarian sat up in bed when he heard the bad news and shouted. 'I see everything twice!' Pandemonium broke loose in the ward again. The specialists came running up from all directions and ringed him in a circle of scrutiny so confining that he could feel the humid breath from their various noses blowing uncomfortably upon the different sectors of his body. They went snooping into his eyes and ears with tiny beams of light, assaulted his legs and feet with rubber hammers and vibrating forks, drew blood from his veins, held anything handy up for him to see on the periphery of his vision. The leader of this team of doctors was a dignified, solicitous gentleman who held one finger up directly in front ofYossarian and demanded, 'How many fingers do you see?' 'Two,' said Yossarian. 'How many fingers do you see now?' asked the doctor, holding up two. 'Two,' said Yossarian. 'And how many now?' asked the doctor, holding up none. 'Two,' said Yossarian. The doctor's face wreathed with a smile. 'By Jove, he's right,' he declared jubilantly. 'He does see everything twice.' They rolled Yossarian away on a stretcher into the room with the other soldier who saw everything twice and quarantined everyone else in the ward for another fourteen days. 'I see everything twice!' the soldier who saw everything twice shouted when they rolled Yossarian in. 'I see everything twice!' Yossarian shouted back at him just as loudly, with a secret wink. 'The walls! The walls!' the other soldier cried. 'Move back the walls!' 'The walls! The walls!' Yossarian cried. 'Move back the walls!' One of the doctors pretended to shove the wall back. 'Is that far enough?' The soldier who saw everything twice nodded weakly and sank back on his bed. Yossarian nodded weakly too, eying his talented roommate with great humility and admiration. He knew he was in the presence of a master. His talented roommate was obviously a person to be studied and emulated. During the night, his talented roommate died, and Yossarian decided that he had followed him far enough." - Joseph Heller, Catch-22

"Of course, you may be right; and certainly I cannot go so far as to say you are wrong: but still, at the same time --" -Jurgen: A Comedy of Justice, by James Branch Cabell.

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There is, I think, an actual (if not immediately obvious) link between all these items. Neil Gaiman has written good things, even true things, over the years. And he maintained a cult following as long as he never said anything to contradict their beliefs (as happened to his friend J. K. Rowling and her following). But now it appears he has transgressed one of the fundamental tenets of this cult in his personal life, and followers are leaving in droves, even going as far (or so they claim) as to burn his books. They've 'followed him far enough.' "Put not your trust in princes, in mortal man, who cannot save." I find myself in the paradoxical position, after so many years of somewhat denigrating Gaiman personally, of defending him artistically, to people who cannot differentiate between the work and the man. So, I shrug, like Jurgen, and give my own ambivalent judgement on the whole mess.