Where women lead, men generally have the sense to follow. Eventually. Feminist fiction, lesbian fiction have developed ahead of gay fiction in Australia. This is one of the many ideas acknowledged or explored in Dennis Altman’s welcome addition to literature about homosexual relationships.

Central to the novel are the various ways in which the personal explodes in to the political. The time is the 1960s and Altman deftly weaves his narrative of the lives of his four protagonists through such historical moments as the 1966 Federal elections, the hanging of Ronald Ryan, the 1969 moratoriums, and the peace and women’s movements generally.

There were no winners in the first round of the Orr Case. Sydney Sparkes Orr lost his job as Professor of Philosophy at the University of Tasmania in 1955. Suzanne Kemp, who had accused him of seduction, lost her reputation. Her father, who had supported her accusations, was subjected to all manner of speculation and innuendo. Edwin Tanner, a mature-age student who had complained about Orr’s poor teaching and his requests for professional favours, had his life ruined. Dr Milanov, Orr’s colleague who had protested that Orr was harassing him professionally, found himself subjected to just the kind of persecution he had fled in his native Serbia. The chair of philosophy at the University of Tasmania was banned so that no appointment could be made for many years, and the university itself became notorious. Even Mr Justice Green, whose findings in Orr’s case against the University was both sane and balanced, as well as quite proper in law, was subjected to rumours which brought his personal life and therefore his judgement into question. Those who went to extreme lengths to support Orr, notably W.H.C. Eddy and R.D. (‘Panzee’) Wright, eventually found themselves also among Orr’s targets as they struggled to place his case before the world and to work out a settlement which would at least provide for his grotesquely mistreated wife and family.

There are some pretty ambiguous rats in this collection and most of them are male but ultimately, it’s the writer’s own unease that cumulatively gnaws away at happiness and achievement.

Take the scene in ‘Soldier of the Round Valleys’ at Grandma’s eighty-something birthday where she ‘cuts the cake and makes a wish’:

But as she cuts the cake, leaning over the table and pressing hard with the knife, some blood begins to trickle from Grandma’s nose. The blood splashes onto the icing. Grandma becomes bewildered and scarcely knows what is happening. The spare room is ready. My father calls the doctor.’

Perusing the Australia Day honours list, I was disappointed to see that Judith Wright had not been honoured with a major award. She is one of our greatest living poets, a pioneer environmentalist, and a tireless champion of Aboriginal rights. In this year, when the nation is still coming to terms with the momentous implications of the Mabo decision, it is worth remembering that Wright has been a key supporter of and advocate for the Murray Islanders land case since its inception in 1981. Wright is one white Australian who does not need an International Year of the Indigenous People to draw her attention to the outstanding worth of people such as Eddie Mabo and Mandawuy Yunupingu.

The nation may not yet have been properly honoured Judith Wright, who is an obvious candidate for a Nobel Prize. The publication of her occasional essays allows us all to gauge the considerable measure of the woman. The great pity is that there are two collections from two different publishers and this obscures the dynamic interaction and the real tensions between various aspects of her writing.