Why I Love Keeping up Appearances (the TV Show)

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Keeping up Appearances is a c. 1990 British comedy series about small-town society lady, Hyacinth Bucket (pronounced “Bouquet”), a vain, egotistical busybody who fancies herself the pillar of the community but is really the most dreaded person in town. The series explores her misadventures as she terrorizes her community while inevitably having her plans thwarted by some embarrassing intrusion by her working-class family members. I have come to deeply love this show because in its light, zany, sometimes tooth-gritting way, it exemplifies what a connected, supportive community looks like. It teaches that while people may be far from perfect, we need to be there for one another all the same.*

The show is oriented around Hyacinth and her three sisters, each with an appropriate flower name. There’s Violet, who married a rich man, but who is not happy with him. (The running joke that her husband is a crossdresser may be the aspect of the show that’s aged the worst.) Ostensibly the most fortunate sister but the least connected to the community, she’s usually only present through phone calls. Then, there’s Daisy, who married working class bum, Onslow, and lives in a shabby house, along with Rose, an aging debutante whose life is procession of ill-fated romances, and their Daddy, a frail fellow about ninety who has no lines, but whose dementia does not stop him from getting about town and into trouble, especially with the ladies. The core group is rounded out with Hyacinth’s long-suffering and easy-going husband, Richard, and her terrified neighbors, Elizabeth and Emmett, and the young vicar, who does his best to run away when he spots her.

Hyacinth is an awful person to be around, and our current popular culture would probably say cut her off. (Yes, I am writing a book on cutoffs.) She’s a toxic narcissist, social media would observe, and to tolerate her would be toxic codependency. If this were real life, they’d say, the family should shun her, Richard divorce her, and nobody give her any truck. And, yes, that would be one way to shut her up. It would also be deeply destructive and tragic, fracturing core, loving relationships. Her community has chosen a different approach, and by no means a perfect one: they have chosen to tolerate her. They have chosen, more or less, to accept her as a reality of the community’s life.Read more… )

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About the author

Arwen Spicer
Arwen Spicer

Arwen Spicer is a science fiction writer and writing teacher raised in the San Fransciso Bay Area, and Northern California will hold her heart forever, even if it turns into a desert. She wrote her doctoral dissertation on ecology in utopian science fiction and is an educator on the concept of workable utopias. Her novel The Hour before Morning was hailed as “A carefully paced, rewarding sci-fi debut” by Kirkus Indie.

Arwen Spicer By Arwen Spicer

Arwen Spicer

Arwen Spicer

Arwen Spicer is a science fiction writer and writing teacher raised in the San Fransciso Bay Area, and Northern California will hold her heart forever, even if it turns into a desert. She wrote her doctoral dissertation on ecology in utopian science fiction and is an educator on the concept of workable utopias. Her novel The Hour before Morning was hailed as “A carefully paced, rewarding sci-fi debut” by Kirkus Indie.

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