When I was little I used to beg my older brother and sister to let me play with them. They had a huge collection of miniature vehicles ranging from Matchbox Model-Ts and race cars to a car-shaped eraser someone got at the dentist (“Putt-Putt”), and they all had names and personalities.
Sometimes they’d let me sit in the family’s vintage green armchair and watch them. “You’re the queen!” they’d assure me. “You get to sit on the throne!”
“But I want to play,” I’d whine.
“You are playing!” they’d insist. “You’re the queen! You’re the most important person in the whole game!”
Is it petulant, having so graciously been extended a title and regalia, to wonder whether the game even needs a queen?
- 23 March 2013