The Heritage

In the grand theatre of literature, some books stand as monumental pillars while others are more akin to the forgotten stage props left to gather dust in the corner. Enter Frances Parkinson Keyes’ The Heritage, a tome that is both a nostalgic nod to the past and a whimsical quest through the murky waters of family legacy. First published in 1970 by the illustrious Corgi Books—because a dogged approach to publishing was all the rage back then—this book is a delightful conundrum wrapped in an enigmatic cover, yet lacking an ISBN. How very avant-garde!

Contains vintage bookmark from Georges bookshop in Park Street, Bristol, which alone is probably worth £5,000,000.

As you flip through the pages, you may find yourself wondering whether the ‘heritage’ in question refers to the author’s penchant for crafting intricate family dramas or the somewhat dubious literary legacy she has left behind. Perhaps it’s a mix of both, an inheritance of quirks and oddities that only a writer of Keyes’ calibre could muster. With each chapter, you are likely to feel the weight of a family tree that’s more tangled than your grandmother’s yarn basket, hinting at secrets and scandals that could make even the most stoic of relatives squirm during a Sunday roast.

Set against the backdrop of the 1970s, a decade not known for its subtlety, The Heritage promises an exploration of values, virtues, and the occasional vice that one simply cannot escape when wading through the murky waters of familial obligations. Keyes, with her penchant for flamboyant prose and dramatic flair, takes readers on a roller coaster ride that is less about the high-speed thrills and more about the slow, steady climb of familial tension. Expect the unexpected, but do ensure you pack a sense of irony—it’s the only way to navigate the labyrinthine twists and turns of this book.

Readers will likely encounter a cast of characters as colourful and layered as a vintage patchwork quilt, each with their own quirks and proclivities. From the neurotic aunt who hoards lavender-scented sachets to the enigmatic cousin who claims to communicate with spirits via a Ouija board, the pages teem with life, chaos, and a dash of the absurd. The delightful irony is that while these characters are steeped in their own histories, they’re also utterly oblivious to the fact that they are mere figments of Keyes’ imagination, crafted to navigate the intricate web of what it means to belong.

As you meander through the plot—if one can call it that—expect to ponder deep questions like: What is heritage, really? Is it merely the sum of one’s ancestors or does it involve a more intricate web of choice, whimsy, and the occasional off-putting family reunion? Spoiler alert: the answer is as elusive as the last biscuit in the tin. It’s here where Keyes shines, crafting a narrative that straddles the line between earnest exploration and tongue-in-cheek commentary on the absurdities of lineage.

Condition: Good. This second-hand marvel has survived the test of time remarkably well, though it bears the marks of a life well-lived: a few creases, the occasional smudge, and a slight musty scent reminiscent of a bygone era. It is, in short, the literary equivalent of a well-worn armchair that’s seen far too many cups of tea spilled on it but still beckons you to sit down and stay awhile.

So, if you fancy navigating the zeitgeist of the 1970s while engaging with a family drama that cleverly mocks itself, The Heritage is your ticket to a peculiar ride. Just remember to keep your irony meter calibrated, as one never knows when a familial revelation may strike. For those inclined to explore the more eccentric corners of literature, look no further than Crappy Old Books, where curious finds like this await those brave enough to sift through the stacks.

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