Cirrus@Austlit

'I had the privilege—the bitter privilege, but the privilege nonetheless—of being one of Barry Spurr’s very last students. The University of Sydney was then as it is now an ocean of courses on gender in Shakespeare, Marxist themes in The Oresteia and so forth. Professor Spurr’s class on English poetry was to me like an ivory tower rising imperially above the tide. I remember shuffling up the stairs of the decrepit Woolley Building and plopping into some ancient wooden chair-desk. Professor Spurr sat at the head of the room—tall, head shaved clean, dressed in a sober grey suit as always—counting down the seconds till class began.' (Introduction)