Abstract
I met Tom in his favourite café in Manly. Our conversation was punctuated by effusive greetings to and from passers by, with chat about the last bookshop talk and the fortunes of the local rugby league team. Afterwards, we visited his new apartment on the grounds of the Catholic seminary he had left fifty years before, and walked through the old cemetery near Sydneyâs quarantine station, where Tom regaled me with the stories of some of the people interred there with as much enthusiasm as if they were current news, or new material for his volumes of tales of all the colourful figures who make up our national history. His comments on his career were peppered with peopleâs names and anecdotes about his connections with them. A life in books has clearly been as much a life with people.
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