This book covers twenty aspects of “Gothic” in this wide-ranging study. But what is meant by “Gothic”? You won’t find a straightforward definition here. As Luckhurst puts it:

“I prefer to see [Gothic] as a collection of ‘travelling tropes’ that, while they originate in a narrow set of European cultures with distinct meanings, have embarked on a journey in which they are both transmitted and utterly transformed as they move across different cultures. Sometimes the Gothic keeps a recognisable shape, but more often it merges with local folklore or beliefs in the supernatural to become a weird, wonderful new hybrid.”

If this makes little sense at the before you start reading the book, it will come to make sense as you roam through the various chapters and sections. My own interpretation is borrowed from the economist’s definition of money: money is what money does. In other words, if it behaves like or is used as money, then it is money. For me, the Gothic is similar: Gothic is as Gothic does. In other words, if watching a film in a cinema makes you wish you’d brought a friend along to walk home with, or reading a story makes you leave all the lights on when you go to bed, then there’s a good chance the film or the story was gothic.

At times the designation of something as Gothic seems to be stretching the definition somewhat, but the author usually has a convincing explanation. For example, how is Godzilla Gothic? One could see it as representing scale, as anything of an unnatural size tends to be frightening in itself. Another approach is to see it as an example of “EcoGothic”, in which nature takes revenge on humankind, whether in the form of a botanical disaster or a giant gorilla. Yet another viewpoint is that films such as Godzilla are allegorical, reflecting the current political or ecological situation.

This book has far more breadth than depth. It covers such a huge range of topics that in a spec of a single paragraph you may find several examples of what the author is talking about. That makes the book a wonderful introduction or starting point for anyone wishing to embark on a literary journey that will scare them half to death. Nevertheless, given that labyrinths are an obvious feature of the Gothic, and is the subject of a section in the book, I’m surprised that there appears to be no mention of the Argentinian writer Borges, in whose stories labyrinths are frequently featured. Perhaps Borges is considered more ludic that Gothic.

Another section features villages, so I was disappointed that an episode of the tv series The Avengers does not appear. Called Murdersville, the story is about a village that will happily bump off anyone for you – all you have to do is get them there. It’s scary in its own way because one does not normally associate sleepy English villages with Murder Incorporated. Still, given that the programme was made nearly sixty years ago, perhaps its omission is not all that surprising.

But these are mere quibbles. This sumptuous feast of a book can be read from beginning to end, or dipped into at random. You will find something – several things – to delight you on every page.

Just don’t read it before going to sleep for the night.

This review first appeared in Terry Freedman’s Books Bulletin.