I imagine that just about anyone who picks this up is going to be looking for an overview of Gothic literature, specifically, with maybe some sections on film and music too. I was. But as his somewhat vague title hints (it's not Gothic Fiction: A Very Short Introduction, after all) Groom's interests are much broader and more amorphous than that.
It's pretty standard for discussions of Gothic media to begin with some notes on the term "Gothic" itself: first derived from the Rome-sacking Goths, later applied to medieval architecture, by the 18th century a generic shorthand for all things Middle or Dark Ages, and by extension all things archaic, gloomy, superstitious, and sinister. It's interesting background to be sure, but arguably not all that relevant in probing the tropes and enduring themes of the literature itself. After all, as Groom himself notes glancingly, the term didn't even become synonymous with the literary genre until the 1920s.
Groom sees it differently. For him, understanding "the Gothic" means understanding every individual context in which the word itself has been used from antiquity to the modern day, and then trying to find the common thread. "Histories of literary Gothic," he bemoans in his introduction, ". . . usually begin in 1764 with the publication of Horace Walpole's Castle of Otranto and ignore the rich semantic history of the term in the centuries preceding Walpole's novel." In reaction, Groom himself spends six and a half or so of his thirteen chapters discussing the pre-literary uses of the term, finally arriving at Walpole on page 69 and even then devoting more page-space to the author's Gothic Revival estate than his seminal novel, which wasn't—per Groom—the first Gothic novel anyway. (That honor he awards to Thomas Leland's Longsword, published two years earlier.)
The general sweep of Groom's argument is that, from Rome on down to today, the concept of "the Gothic" has existed mainly to pose a rustic, rugged contrast to the controlled elegance of "the Classical." Therefore we have the Visigoths vs. the Romans, Gothic Revival architecture vs. Neoclassical architecture, and of course Gothic literature itself as a counterpoint to the self-assured rationalism of the Enlightenment. Groom is especially interested in the way the concept of the Gothic (or "Gothick") was historically wielded in the English political sphere, where—contrary to our more familiar associations with gloom and barbarism—it was often used to point to an idealized, democratized Anglo-Saxon past.
I should say here that Groom actually makes these points pretty convincingly, and this would no doubt be an illuminating topic for a scholarly monograph or journal article. But I still don't think this primarily linguistic approach is an appropriate angle for an entry in this particular book series, marketed as an introductory overview for people who will, as I said earlier, almost certainly be looking for information on "the Gothic" as a specific literary and artistic aesthetic rather than a millennia-spanning sociocultural ethos. Groom laments in the introduction that, due to overzealous academics eager to apply the term to everything, "the Gothic now risks being emptied or nullified as a meaningful term—indeed, one critic has claimed that 'In the twentieth century Gothic is everywhere and nowhere.'" But rather than countering that trend, Groom only intensifies it; a newcomer to this topic would finish this book with their head full of ancient European tribal migrations, innovations in medieval church-building, Elizabethan revenge dramas, Jacobean ballads, the English Civil War, Whig politics, 18th-century decorating fads, Reformation and Victorian religious disputes, German Expressionist film, the music of Bauhaus, and maybe even a little bit of Bram Stoker and Edgar Allan Poe, but would be none the wiser about Byronic heroes, the madwoman in the attic, or the uses of horror vs. terror.
Even when Groom does finally get around to discussing Gothic literature, he's too concerned with supporting his larger argument to do the books and authors he mentions any real justice. He willfully rejects many of the most popular critical frameworks for interpreting Gothic texts (psychoanalysis, feminist and queer theory), I suppose because they don't play very well into his particular sociopolitical reading, which in turn leads him to such bizarre conclusions as the claim that Carmilla and Dracula don't have a sexual subtext. Needless to say the so-called "female Gothic" tradition, and indeed most women writers of Gothic novels post-Anne Radcliffe, are barely mentioned. But then again, there's a lot he doesn't mention; I'd estimate that maybe 15% of this book is actually given over to literary discussion. (Gothic buildings, I'd say, get at least 25%.) It's so cursory that I genuinely believe Oxford University Press could, and probably should, release another VSI entry specifically on Gothic literature to make up the deficit.
(As sort of a last, standalone critique I also feel the need to flag up Groom's distasteful final paragraph, which tries to turn the 2007 murder of English teenager Sophie Lancaster—who was publicly beaten to death for wearing goth or "mosher" clothes—into some kind of rallying cry for the Gothic spirit. Who the hell let him keep that in there?)
Given these glaring flaws and offenses, even my three stars probably seem generous. I certainly found Groom an off-putting authorial presence, and I think this would be pretty useless as an introduction to "the Gothic" in the sense that most people understand that term. But coming to this text with a fair amount of prior reading on the subject, I admit I did learn quite a bit about the more obscure prehistory of the genre, and found at least parts of the book to be an interesting and well-sourced—if also frequently frustrating—exploration of a complicated term and the ideas it has evoked through the centuries. So definitely not recommended for most readers, but maybe not totally devoid of value either.