ALL UNDER ONE ROOF [468]

I remember the feeling of “I beg your pardon?” upon seeing, in March 2024, a poster in the window of WHSmith in Oxford of Geoffrey the Giraffe, proclaiming “Toys “R” Us In Store Now”. 

I knew the toy store brand was re-establishing itself following its bankruptcy in 2018, and its concessions in Macy’s department stores in the United States, alongside slowly opening smaller retail stores, was a formula that could work in the UK – their higher-end FAO Schwarz brand, they of the giant piano keyboard, is already found in Selfridges here.

But making a deal to open Toys “R” Us concessions exclusively in WHSmith, in 76 stores by the end of 2024, was perplexing. Known as a combined newsagent, bookseller and stationers – a conglomeration that my sister, when buying magazines and art supplies, described as being both too specific and too generic to be useful – over two hundred branches have already incorporated Post Offices into them, franchises replacing former “Crown” Post Offices closed by the Government-owned group. It wasn’t an obvious choice for a toy shop to open, even if WHSmith did sell some board games along with children’s art and stationery supplies.

Entering the Oxford WHSmith required me to walk past the regular store, making sure you saw what they had to offer first, to reach the mezzanine hosted by, or guarded by, a fibreglass model of Geoffrey on a park bench. I didn’t look through it – I think I just needed to know it existed.

WHSmith has chopped and changed its product range over the years: the 1980s saw it as a major seller of microcomputers and games from Sinclair, Acorn, Amstrad and so on, and it regularly sold music and films too. During the 1980s and 90s, it owned Do-It-All, a chain of DIY stores, and ran the cable TV channels Lifestyle and Screensport. 

But today, its current image is either as a convenience store in airports, train stations and hospitals, once found selling toothpaste for £10, or as a network of tired and cluttered High Street stores. Giving up floor space to Post Offices and Toys “R” Us, then dual- and triple-branding the signs above the front door, suggests WHSmith is diminishing its own presence to adapt to changing tastes. It may operate Smiths News, the largest wholesale supplier of newspapers and magazines, but print sales of both have been in decline for years, and while its reputation as a bookseller caused its inventory system to be adopted worldwide as the ISBN number, stores rarely offer more than a narrow selection of books in comparison to Waterstones or other independent bookshops.

I still make a point of visiting WHSmith: my family’s birthdays and Christmas are punctuated by their greeting cards; it is the only place I have bought “The New Yorker” magazine outside of New York itself; and it is very good if you want one of something particular: one pen, one pencil, one notebook. Supermarkets may offer multipacks of these for less per unit, but only if you are willing to compromise on exactly what you wanted. It has already sold toys and games under their own brands like The Gadget Shop and Past Times, and giving over that part of the store, like in Selfridges and in Tesco (with rival toy shop The Entertainer) makes some business sense.

What is WHSmith meant to be? Whatever it needs to be to keep going.

YOU ARE EVERYTHING, AND EVERYTHING IS YOU [440]

The Pitt Rivers Museum is the most overwhelming I have experienced to date. Holding around seven hundred thousand objects, most of which are on display, it is a museum of archaeology, anthropology and ethnology: devoted to the study of humanity through its objects, it is the closest I have encountered to a museum of “everything”. It naturally also becomes a museum of museum displays, charting how the acknowledgement and understanding of our past has developed.

Publicly accessed via a single arched doorway at the back of the Oxford University Museum of Natural History, despite being of a similar scale, the Pitt Rivers is a grotto of glass cases, more specifically a gigantic room with a hive of cabinets spread through the ground floor, with two mezzanines looking over it. Deciding to start at the top, the lift opened at a display of handguns and rifles, itself facing a wall of rudimentary clubs – spears and harpoons were at the other end of the walkway.

Among the pictures I took while at the museum were a helmet made from the skin of a porcupine fish; packs of various playing cards, displaying the link to the original tarot cards; American Indian headdresses; “a string of Chinese cash”; sword sheaths; boomerangs; Samurai armour; a box of the original table tennis game for which the name “Ping Pong” was trademarked; and various wooden shields, including four painted with depictions of the comic book hero The Phantom. 

Armed with the knowledge of what a Colt .45 looks like, you get a hang of how the museum is organised ethnologically by type of object, aiding comparisons between cultures, rather than simply by time – it feels more like browsing an encyclopaedia, or searching Wikipedia, than reading a history book. Augustus Pitt Rivers, the retired Army officer and archaeologist whose collection formed the basis of the museum, to which others’ expeditions and donations have since contributed, was among the first to insist upon all discovered artefacts being methodically catalogued and preserved for study, rather than just looking for treasure. At the same time, having such a repository for examples of many types of objects that matched when I have bought examples of physical media, like a laser disc or a Sony U-Matic tape, so I could experience them by touch – reading about something is often not enough.

This record-taking developed over time: an ivory harpoon head has its origin and catalogue number written directly on it: “W. Eskimo / P.R. Coll / 1884.20.30”, although a caption under it also specifies its North American origin and leaf-shaped stone blade along with correcting itself to “Inuit” – sometimes the catalogue details is all we know about the item. Knotted tags of handwritten text, and tiny captions of densely-packed text in Times New Roman, eventually gives way to numbered pointers to clearer captions to the side in larger sans-serif fonts like Helvetica and Gill Sans. 

With the density of objects on show, it was inevitable that, unless I sat down for a while, I would start looking past them, or through them, to the construction of their displays – if they had not removed their display of shrunken heads during the pandemic-enforced closure in 2020, part of the efforts in decoloniality that further enhance the understanding of the museum’s objects, I doubt I would have noticed.

My main takeaway from the Pitt Rivers Museum was that I don’t know of anywhere else like it – all that is missing are objects from the present day. There is a feeling of clutter, which was also felt sixty years ago: a proposed new building, designed by Pier Luigi Nervi, would have arranged its categories circularly around a glass dome, spreading outwards through time. It looked not unlike the future pavilions at Disney’s Epcot Center, but fundraising efforts petered out by 1970. A new building, with more space to think about the objects, should be considered again, or at least build its own entrance from outside. 

BUT WHAT A FOOL BELIEVES, HE SEES [80]

I had already decided it was time to talk about “fake news” when dictionary publishers Collins yesterday proclaimed the term as their word of the year, just as Oxford Dictionaries had done with “post-truth” last year. The use of “fake news” had, according to Collins, increased by 365 per cent in comparison to last year, confirming not only an increased awareness among the general public awareness of what it I, and how to identify it, but of an increasing boldness in using the term – we all know who is responsible for that, but I will return to that later.

I am pretty sure anyone encounters a website named “Leigh Spence Is Dancing with the Gatekeepers” knows what they are to expect. Each article is presented from the point of view of a particular person, i.e. me, and that person may have a particular axe to grind. At the same time, I expect that you know that without me telling you because, from Wikipedia to Facebook to Twitter to Snapchat, anyone can say whatever they want online, and the more respectable you appear, the more seriously you will be taken. Your CV may be watertight, but the interview is what gets you the job – plus, using your own .com address, and pink and white text on an International Klein Blue background also helps. I know I am writing in a more anecdotal style than an academic one, and sources are not listed like an essay, but if I know that someone wants to look something up, either because they are interested, or want to check it is correct, my work is done.

However, the Collins dictionary definition of the noun “fake news” will be: “false, often sensational, information disseminated under the guise of news reporting.” Interestingly, when you go to collinsdictionary.com, and enter the word “false,” the first example of the adjective “false” is: “It was quite clear the President was being given false information by those around him.” Oh well – there is no mention about separate objective and subjective uses of the word “false,” or of “fake news,” because to do so would be to fall down the proverbial rabbit hole.

It is no surprise that Donald Trump could take credit for popularising the term “fake news” – in an interview with Mike Huckabee, he said, “the media is really, the word, one of the greatest of all [the] terms I’ve come up with, is ‘fake’ … I guess other people have used it perhaps over the years, but I’ve never noticed it.” For someone who is also quoted as saying, “I am more humble than you could ever understand,” claiming to have invented words that have existed for decades is about as hubristic as you can get.

The accumulated use of “fake news,” already used to describe “The Daily Show with Jon Stewart” and “The Onion,” has grown because of Trump, but his use of it – “the Fake News is at it again” – is different from the Collins definition, because it is the same as his abbreviation “MSM” (mainstream media), in that it is anything he personally doesn’t like. Donald Trump uses “fake news” like the main character of J.D. Salinger’s “The Catcher in the Rye,” Holden Caulfield, calls everyone “goddam phoneys.” That we can now argue the meanings of words is par for the course these days, and that we can do it with “fake news” is even worse.