Hobson's Choice
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Castle-Mania
The pink one has entered our home. In the form of a pink and blue Barbie castle, brought to us by loving grandparents. No big-boobed dolls, hallelujah.
Eleanor has fallen in love with castles, and her grandmother happened to have this Barbie castle. So now we have it, and I'm grateful. I've spent the last few weeks looking at different toy castles, and the castle cultural assumptions by different toy makers is fascinating.
The Fisher-Price Castle is clearly located in some out of the way realm where the inhabitants rarely have to think about the ambitions of their neighbors. It's a land where no one's really all that focused on the leadership qualities of their king or on the vassality of the serfs. There's some dragons and unicorns and probably tons of Morris Dancing. I'm amazed the little people don't come with little leg bells. But nothing so vulgar as bloodshed or typhoid. And of course , in the new Fischer Price Little People world, everyone's obese, no worries about food.
The Imaginext Castle for the slightly older child is all about battles. No dragons here; the magical creatures of choice are large bludgeoning trolls. This castle is built to try out that battering ram, those boiling cauldrons. Knights abound. The Playmobil castle is similar, but you can imagine the little blocky people having an inner life and maybe questioning all the bloodshed.
And the Barbie castle? Well, Louis XIV would be at home. Very French, very Renaissance, very courtly. I can imagine a lot of the poetry I studied as an undergrad being written here; I picture Castiglione pulling out the delightful bluebird drawer pulls while discoursing on the roles of the courtier. Lots of time to think about Rococo details, and there's a bathtub. You look at the Barbie castle, and you think, these people are aching for the guillotine.
I suppose that I ought to go take a look at the Disney castle for further comparison since they do own this market. But I can only thank god that Eleanor has thus far shown absolutely no interest in Disney and its workings. Animation holds no thrills for her; only puppets will do. This preference perhaps ought to inspire other worries about her future, based on _Being John Malkovich_ and on rumors I've heard that puppeteers are the wackiest, most perverse artists out there. Instead, I'll just be thankful that I do not yet have to spend my days discussing Belle and Jasmin and Mulan and Pocahantas, Sleeping Beauty and Snow White and Cinderella.
1:43 p.m. - 2004-10-24
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