Another day, another parasocially powerful idol disappointing us all. People are so jaded by now, at least I’ve noticed just a little less of the same tired discourse: “My unhealthy stand-in father/brother figure who I have never met or who maybe signed a book for me once would never!” “Anyone who can’t separate the art from the artist is a smooth brain who can’t match a fraction of my completely rational intellect!”

Nobody wants to separate art from the artist when the art and the artist are good. I have never heard someone say “Don’t give credit to George Orwell for his work! He’s just an artist and doesn’t have anything to do with his art.” Probably anyone who’s participated in creative workshops has also met plenty of people who defend their questionable art by claiming they are simply misunderstood as artists. From my perspective, people only separate art from artist when they want an excuse to over-identify with a Hogwarts House while J. K. Rowling is the way that she is.

If you’re a person convinced of the “objective merit” of art made by scumbags, a believer all sexual assault allegations are lies, or someone for whom no preponderance of evidence will convince you of Gaiman’s wrongness, I have neither the eloquence nor energy to change your mind. But personally, I have a staunch no-rapist/pedophile/abuser policy towards my media consumption and discretionary spending that a lot of people, for some godforsaken reason, really don’t like. (This includes popular problematic faves: the NAMBLA-supporting Allen Ginsburg, the child-predator David Bowie, and the wife-kicking Charles Bukowski, among so many unfortunate, uncountable, others.)

I do understand the unique position of Gaiman himself. He’s arguably the most well-known writer of English-language urban fantasy still alive. People who do not read a whole lot read Gaiman. And he’s not a shut-in; he has an active public life and persona people can get to know (without, until now, having much reason to get to know more about the real, private him). I don’t begrudge anyone having previously been a fan of his work, or not knowing what else to read in our economic system, which ensures those at the top (of business, of writing, of other art) accrue more and more wealth, prestige, and popularity.

This is especially so in the last few days, watching Gaiman or some member of his staff put so much work of his on sale in some embarrassing ploy to generate public good will and/or money against lawsuits I sure hope are coming for him. If you’re done with Gaiman, as I am, here’s what you can read instead.

If you like fantasy with morally gray characters and a distinctly male perspective, read The Magicians by Lev Grossman. This is an honest take on what happens when you tell very smart, ambitious people who believe they are special that they have magic powers, and are indeed special—they become developmentally stunted assholes. The magic system is great, there’s high fantasy and urban fantasy, and the overall narrative for the trilogy includes the best redemption arcs I’ve ever read.

If you like deity drama, read The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms (high fantasy) or The City We Became (urban fantasy) by N. K. Jemisin. The absolute highlight of any Jemisin for me is original pantheon. I’m as much of a big sucker for a Hades/Persephone retelling as the next Millennial, but even I am burnt out on the classic Greek/Roman/Norse mythological stable. Jemisin builds complete, functioning pantheons of absolutely self-absorbed and/or troubled creatures with limited human psychology, and they make messes.

If you like surprisingly dark YA, read Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White. They are not making YA the way they used to. This book is immediately and consistently cool, weird, and gross. I could only dream of having the chance to have read this book as a teen myself (instead of sneaking a copy of Stephen’s King It, which I still highkey think is gross in an uncool way as an adult). Very readable in the line-by-line, paragraph-by-paragraph, without being patronizing and “protecting” young people from real concepts.

If you like authors who write a lot, in a wide breadth of fantasy sub-genre, read V. E. Schwab. Urban fantasy Vicious was one of my top reads of last year, featuring a full display of absolute psychopaths for protagonists and antagonists. Somewhat less gritty urban fantasy A Darker Shade of Magic is fast-paced and pleasantly surreal, with more intrinsically likable characters. Debut (!) The Near Witch is a remarkably competent, traditional high fantasy. The Invisible Lives of Addie LaRue is a romance with a magical realist infrastructure. Fall in love with Schwab, and you will have a lot of different stuff to read.

If you like whimsy, read the Discworld books by Terry Pratchett. I just recently started myself with The Color of Magic. These books are bouncy and fun. The lines turn themselves over and over into jokes. You get a ridiculously wide, multiverse of breadth by constantly slingshotting from one hijinks to another.

If you like twisted fairy tales, read The Seventh Bride by T. Kingfisher. The language itself reminds me of beloved, humorous tales (like Ella Enchanted and The Princess Bride) until truly horrible things happen. More than once, I entered a scene thinking “no way she’s taking it this far,” and then she did take it that far. Kingfisher will take a classic fairy tale to the very edge, without disrespecting it.

There are more writers and books in this world than we will ever be able to read. It’s easy to say we can’t replace our favorites, but it’s a reflection of who and what we value. Do we objectively prefer who is best, or who might just happen to be most popular at the moment for a number of complex reasons? Do we really not care about the tapestry of the ethics responsible for our art and entertainment?

When we buy books and elevate writers by speaking on them or recommending them to our friends, we can affect how publishing works, and we can empower the people and artists who really deserve it. We do not have to accept the scumbags fed to us by advertising companies masquerading as publishers. We have never lived in a time with more books, good books written by good (or at least baseline morally acceptable) people, and those we choose to read still matter.