It would be hard to write a literary history of the postwar decades without the name of Geoffrey Dutton turning up, certainly. He was one of the forces that made Writers’ Week of the Adelaide Festival the major success it was, and the first real gathering-place where so many writers, all geographically isolated, began to meet up and get to know one another (apart from sparring in the letter-to-the-editor pages of the Bulletin). From its outset in 1960, Writers’ Week grew and grew, and for just about every Adelaide Festival into the 1980s Geoff Dutton was the urbane host and mentor.

He was an energetic committee man (his last chairmanship was with the Executive Council of the Australian Society of Authors in the early 1990s) as well as a behind-the-scenes supporter of new and young talent. He was generous and ardent in encouraging others, in resurrecting forgotten authors and unduly neglected books (which is what made Sun Books a treasure trove), and in seeking the cross-fertilisation of artistic stimulus he drew upon an enormous range of contacts. The ‘Poets & Artists’ series in Australian Letters, in the 1960s, was only one of such acclaimed initiatives.

He was an astute editor who talked the powers-that-be into introducing regular literary supplements in The Australian and the once-vital-but-subsequently-languishing Bulletin. These helped give focus to the 80s. His editing, for Penguin, of The Literature of Australia (1964, revised 1974, 1978) was a landmark that shames the much later (1988) Penguin history.

And Geoffrey Dutton was, of course, a poet, novelist, biographer, translator (his Bella Akhmodulina translation was published in New York), travel writer, essayist, author of memoirs – including the candid autobiography Out in the Open (UQP, 1994). His publishing list covers many other things besides.

Some of his poems, like ‘The Smallest Sprout’, ‘The Stranded Whales’ and ‘Night Fishing’ have become part of our accepted literary heritage and are included in overseas anthologies as well as local ones. His last published novel, Flying Low (UQP, 1992) was a thorough reworking of his first one, Andy (London, 1968) though he is probably best remembered in this field for Queen Emma of the South Seas.

Geoffrey Dutton’s background was in the old squattocracy in South Australia, but what he gained from that heritage was an easy affability and self-confidence, a geniality towards others rather than any pompous self-inflation or preening. One always felt Geoff could set to with the sheep and the pig-pens as easily as he might entertain visiting royalty or international celebrities in the library of Anlaby, the family property. One of the most memorable of Geoffrey Dutton stories still is the account of how he was drummed out of the Adelaide Club because of his ardent republicanism, at a time when to be a republican in Australia almost called for the intervention of ASIO. To be a republican in 1960s Adelaide clearly was completely beyond the pale, even in the premises that had been largely furbished by his father. The RSL at the time also nearly fainted. But Geoff Dutton stood to his beliefs, and these now make him an even more endearing personality. His mop of white hair, his wide welcoming smile, and his tall, slightly stooped figure, elegant and informal, will be missed. His ghost will beam encouragingly upon us for a while yet.