As I promised in the previous post, here’s one devoted to someone who has had an important role in my life and who has a birthday today.  My mother-in-law.  Happy birthday, June.

Wait, what?  Oh, sorry about that.  Got confused for a minute.

I want to talk about H. P. Lovecraft on his birthday (August 20).  I’m gong to vent my spleen a bit.

A day or two ago a link came across my Twitter feed to an article ranting about Lovecraft’s racism.  Yeah, that again.

Let me make something clear for everyone who didn’t quit reading at the last paragraph.  I do not condone, subscribe to, or approve of Lovecraft’s views on race. Period.  Full stop.

That does not mean I don’t enjoy his work.  Do certain aspects of it bother me? Sure.  But I’m a big boy. I can handle viewpoints that aren’t the same as mine.  I can even  handle viewpoints I find offensive.

What I get tired of are people who continually judge writers from other periods in history by today’s standards.  For some reason those writers are always found wanting.   If you don’t want to read an author because of their views on race/politics/religion/how they pronounce tomato, that’s fine.  Just don’t tell me I can’t or shouldn’t read those authors.  There’s a tendency to go beyond that and try to shame people who enjoy certain authors whose views aren’t politically correct.  And people who do this have been awfully loud lately.

I’ll read what I damn well want to, and I don’t need anyone’s approval to do so.  Certainly not the approval of some shrill scold, regardless of whether I agree with their point or not.  If the fact I like Lovecraft, or Haggard, or Howard, or Burroughs, or any other writer offends you, then you can go pound sand.

Me, I’m going to read some Lovecraft in honor of his birthday.  Hmm… “The Dunwich Horror” is looking pretty good.  I think I’ll try that one.