On the heels of 2023’s Barbie movie comes Let’s Call Her Barbie, which takes a fictionalized look at Ruth Handler’s complicated rise to the top of and fall from the toymaking world, as well as the creation of the iconic doll. The novel is a fascinating and mainly factual story of the inner workings of Mattel during the mid-20th century.

The narrative is split between Handler, her children – Ken and Barbara, who enter into immortality thanks to their mother naming her dolls after them – wardrobe designers Charlotte Johnson and (the fictional) Stevie Klein, and head engineer Jack Ryan. We follow Ruth from the moment she brings a Bild Lili (a fashion doll launched in Germany in 1955) home, decides to create an American version, until she is squeezed out of her own company in the 1980s. The book spans decades during which Jack and Ruth collide over Barbie’s future and future earnings.

The book’s strongest parts belong to Ruth, a gutsy, go-get-‘em dame who sees a novelty doll being sold in Germany and realizes that girls out there might want to have more than baby dolls to model a future of motherhood on. She is imperfect but tough and uncompromising and one hell of a woman; her repeated cancer battles are handled with grace and aplomb. As the company’s fortunes grow, Ken and Barbara suffer for her lack of attention – Barbara, feeling forgotten and teased by Barbie’s existence, tries traditional motherhood and Ken, fearing his own bisexuality, marries at 19.

The other characters, though not as mesmerizing as Ruth, are interesting as well. Jack leads a wild Mad Men-like existence of sex and partying in his swinging pad. Though married to Zsa Zsa Gabor, he sleeps with almost any woman that moves. Charlotte and Stevie attain purpose while making their way through the 1950s and 1960s; Stevie must learn to resist Jack after a love affair between them goes kaput. Another excellent original confection of Rosenberg’s is Ginger, who tries to make herself over in the hope of winning Jack’s attention, only to put herself on a path to ruin. It’s hard to make original characters like these fit into such settings, but Rosenberg does it. 

The book grapples beautifully with Barbie’s history as a cultural figure, pointing out some notorious triumphs and bombs in the line’s sale history. It critiques and celebrates the doll’s place in American pop culture in compelling ways. Love her or hate her, this book makes you realize Barbie matters. 

All in all, this is a strong, eminently readable work. If you like Barbie, strong women, Mad Men, stories about complicated feminism, and/or the business of being plastic, you’ll like this.