Oh, indeed. Even I don't plan on focusing on it. It's just hard to ignore, is all. From the perspective of a guy who was born in 1983, reading stories in which dark-skinned dock hands are inherently perceived as shifty or even potentially otherwordly and evil is more than a little odd. Here we are in a resolutely post-Martin Luther King world, where the occasional racist idiot gets glared at in most polite circles, and you can still read stories about a guy who hears rats behind his walls and who names his cat ****** Man.Zitterberg said:Oh god, the racism element. I'd much rather focus on the non-racist issues first as I don't think that allegories of miscegenation resulting in hideous fish-people has remained kosher or pervasive as it was in Uncle Howard's day.
Plus, the debate about Lovecraft and his opinions about race and ethnicity is an essay-and-a-half on its own.
The most I plan on doing is mentioning how that could be seen as a sort of manifestation of the fear of alterity - the term referring to the act of having interpersonal relationships to begin with. It's not so much the archetypal Black Man that Lovecraft feared in his earlier days, it's the idea of the Other. That is, what's outside of his established mould of the White, Anglo-Saxon male of decent heritage and good breeding who's either spent his childhood devouring books or has integrated the halls of academia.
I mean, look at "The Dunwich Horror." It's all right there. The rational and learned White professor who defeats a ruddy-faced and borderline-caprine eldritch redneck who basically acts as the polar reversal of Lovecraft's own origins. Wilbur Whateley was born fatherless, was schooled by his mother Lavinia and her own father with books they had in their personal library, and he grew into a precocious young man who's extremely gifted as far as world-destroying apocrypha is concerned, but more than lacks in the social graces.
Considering how Lovecraft almost lost his mind in New York and was lucky to have been married for a short while, it's kinda hard not to draw parallels between Whateley and the author. Not that it's especially relevant or pertinent to my research but, y'know.
The old brain cooking stuff needlessly. Happens all the time.