Neil Gaiman’s book was turned into my favorite movie. Now, I don’t know how to watch it again.

As soon the first leaf turns orange and falls gently onto my Dr. Marten boots, I know the time has come for my annual “Coraline” rewatch.

The gothic claymation film, released in 2009, is adapted from award-winning novelist Neil Gaiman’s book of the same name. I first watched it on New Year's Eve 2010, curled up on my grandparents’ living room couch with my older sister while a thunderstorm raged on outside, and its inviting spookiness has brought me comfort ever since. Last year, my best friend decorated my birthday cake to mirror the iconic “Welcome Home!” cake in the film.

One month later, five women alleged on the U.K. podcast "Tortoise" that Gaiman sexually assaulted them from 1986 to 2022.

And on Monday, Vulture published a report outlining nine accusations against Gaiman, including the five revealed last summer. The report brought these allegations to a larger audience, including myself, for the first time.

The article was graphic, outlining the horrors of the alleged assaults in excruciating detail. As a reader, it filled me with discomfort; not only because of my empathy for the alleged victims, but because the news that the author who penned the story behind my favorite film was accused of something so disturbing came as a shock.

In a letter posted to his website, he denied the accusations: “I have never engaged in non-consensual sexual activity with anyone. Ever.”

He is far from the first admired celebrity to be accused of sexual abuse, and it can be painful for fans to learn that a notable figure may not be who they thought they were. After taking it all in, I couldn’t help but ask myself, “How can I watch 'Coraline' again?”

The article was meant to be uncomfortable. Why?

Graphic recounts of sexual abuse grab — and hold onto — readers' attention.

Nicole Bedera, author of "On the Wrong Side: How Universities Protect Perpetrators and Betray Survivors of Sexual Violence," says most readers are responding in a similar way, which is by asking themselves, “Is this bad enough that I have to stop being a fan of this man?”

“That’s part of why a lot of journalists will write these articles to be so graphic,” she explains. “Because if they’re not graphic, people are pretty quick to separate the art from the artist and try to keep supporting this person.”

Cognitive biases like the “halo effect” can protect a public figure's image in the face of sexual abuse allegations, according to Elizabeth L. Jeglic, a clinical psychologist and professor at the John Jay College of Criminal Justice, City University of New York.

“We have perceptions of who we believe famous people are, often based upon the art they create and the characters they portray,” Jeglic says. “When their behavior is in direct contradiction to this, it is hard to view them in same way and there is a feeling of betrayal.”

Oftentimes, it takes numerous allegations for the public to change their opinion of an alleged abuser. But, Jeglic says graphic details can also be detrimental to some.

“If survivors are still working through their trauma, being reminded of situations that are similar to the trauma you experience can reactivate your PTSD symptoms," she says.

And Bedera cautions that graphic recounts can sensationalize sexual violence and raise the bar for what people consider to be violent enough to withdraw their support.

In her research on college sexual violence perpetrators, she found that school officials were less likely to intervene on violence that seemed more ordinary. “They would say things like, ‘He’s no Harvey Weinstein,’” she explains.

And, misogynistic fans can create a cult-like following behind celebrities who are accused of shocking violence.

“If you’re responding with disgust, there are misogynistic readers who are responding with awe, and that’s how that new fandom can be created,” Bedera says.

Can you separate art from the artist?

The short and clear answer is no, Bedera says.

For the most part, however, allegations of sexual assault and intimate partner violence do not damage a celebrity’s career, according to Bedera. For example, Chris Brown, who was supposedly “canceled” after assaulting Rihanna, his then-girlfriend, was filling arenas on his 2024 tour.

To counter this, Bedera says people can “withdraw their fandom.”

“This isn’t a neutral thing. Once these articles come out, you can’t go back to a time before anyone knew,” she says. “So when deciding if we’re going to continue engaging with the work or not, we have to be thinking about, ‘Do I want this person to be more powerful than ever?’”

But is there a threshold for how much you can engage with the art, even if you don’t want to support the artist?

That answer is more complicated.

Bedera says if there is a song or movie you can’t give up, indulge in it privately. Don’t share it with other people or play it publicly, don’t buy tickets to see the person in concerts or theaters, and don’t wear their merch.

“It feels very strange to be looking for a way to consume the art without compensating the artist,” she says. “If I think that someone really doesn't deserve compensation, maybe it's time to put it away.”

Jeglic agrees that it is difficult to consume someone’s art knowing they may have hurt others.

“Deriving pleasure and enjoyment from the person who has done harm can feel like a betrayal to those who have been harmed," she explains.

Bedera recommends people look to other creators the artist has worked with and even their victims, who sometimes are artists themselves. In diverting your attention and financial resources from the person who has been accused of abuse, you can “help keep this person from becoming more powerful and maybe chip away at the power they already have."

For me, my connection to “Coraline” was never about Gaiman himself. When I first watched the film 15 years ago, I’m not sure I even knew it was based on his book.

So it’s unlikely that I’ll burn my copy of “Coraline” or delete the photos posing with my pink and yellow birthday cake — the damage has already been done.

But the next time “Coraline” returns to theaters, as it has the past two summers, I’ll save the $20, and stop convincing all my friends to go with me.

This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Neil Gaiman’s 'Coraline,' other works marred by horrific allegations