As a parent, I'm more guilty than most of forcing the toys and activities of my childhood onto my daughter. As a daughter, she has shown a remarkable degree of resistance. She has grown up in a different world than I did, surrounded by electronic stimulation I only dreamt of, and since she's only six she has no appreciation of the retro-coolness of Slinkies or Operation. To complicate matters, she has embraced the aspects of girliness a marketer could hope for: princesses, makeup, cute fuzzy animals, blah blah blah. And I'm not exactly the person I was when I was that age either; my patience for the games and toys she likes to play with is tested daily by my own roaming attention.But there's one thing we both agree upon. LEGOs.
LEGOs are the perfect toy. Colorful, sturdy, infinitely creative, and utterly immersive. She and I spend hours recreating everything in the instructions and on the box, then exploring every permutation of houses, cars, and living things we can imagine. When dinner is called, I'm just as likely to be the one who calls, "in a second!" as she is.
We are members of the Cult of LEGO. And we are not alone.
Nowhere is this more clear than in a new book, the aptly titled The Cult Of LEGO (John Baichtal and Joe Meno), which explores the myriad ways in which LEGO has permeated our culture and become an obsession for brick lovers around the globe. Packed with articles, interviews, and images of some of the most eye-opening uses for LEGOs you've ever seen, it's at once both a fascinating exploration of how a simple little brick, properly assembled, can offer endless possibilities, and a testament to the diversity and ingenuity of the human imagination.
