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by Tilak A. Gunawardhana

For quite some time, Ian was not in the best of health, and his wife's death about two and a half years ago made things worse, but he did not show it. When my wife and I visited him a couple of months ago, he was still witty as usual, interested in other people, and displaying his remarkable skills as a raconteur, and showing no signs of leaving us without a warning. Then, suddenly, I read an appreciation - I could not believe my eyes - the inimitable Ian had died.

Either by cruel accident, or unfortunate circumstance, there was no obituary notice in the newspapers. For a number of people who knew him closely and over a long period, it was the most intimidating loss. He was almost part of our own personal lives, and every meeting bound us even closer together, and made our lives richer in one way or another.

To write something like a column or two in a well-known newspaper, is paying a grossly insufficient tribute to a sterling character, and his formidable achievement in the shape of his multi-volume bibliography of which already much has been written, and about his style which enabled it to be classed as one of the best, if not the best in the field of bibliography in English. He brought to bear on his discussion, and exposition of the material a rare terseness and depth of understanding, that it is difficult to imagine anyone else continuing it in the same grandeur of manner.

His international reputation was the highest tribute the intellectual world paid him while he was still alive, and till his last days he continued to extend it in the seclusion of his quiet home sheltered and kept comfortable well away from the 'sturm und drang' of the world beyond.

In addition, he was a well-known art critic, especially documenting and discussing the work of the greatest painter of Sri Lanka in modern times - George Keyt. I have had the rare honour, I am proud to confess, of receiving one of the first printed copies of Keyt's 'Drawings" which Ian edited, after his other great work on the artist's paintings which contained articles by some of the most perceptive connoisseurs of Keyt's art.

Innumerable were his shorter pieces on the artist and his work in various publications, which introduced and presented to dilettante and expert various facets of his friend's 'ouvre'.

The facsimile of the first edition of Knox's 'A Historical Relation of Ceylon' with an extended discussion of the influence of that work of on English fiction, centered on voyages of adventure, was a critical placing of that work in both a historical as well as a literary context. Editions of Knox quite often did only one thing at a time, and in Sri Lanka it was the historical value of the work that attracted the readers and students most.

This was done while he was at Peradeniya, and where he had at his disposal ample volumes on both history and literature which he himself helped to extend for the benefit of all interested students, and eventually bequeathed to the nation. 'Knox' was another feather in his cap. Professionally he was not a historian, but he accomplished the task of a full fledged academic historian and an erudite litterateur.

Among his minor work, the most deserving of notice is the edition he produced of his mentor Lyn Ludowyk's 'Long Afternoons'. If not for Ian, these well culled, hauntingly described pieces on Lyn's early life in Galle during the time of the British, when the Burger community enjoyed almost aristocratic social advantages, would not have seen the light of the day. In a way it provides a rare peep into the life of that community, and about which a great deal had been written as can be gleaned from Ranjinee Obeysekera's study of 'English Literature'. It had required a lot of persuasion on Ian's part to get the old professor acquiesce to part with this manuscript and get his reluctant consent for publication. He would not have given the precious leaves to any other person, and Ian was his choice, because Ian had proved himself in no uncertain way to be a skilled editor in his thoroughness, concern for detail, absolute trustworthiness where reproduction were concerned.

Even though all this was common knowledge among those who associated with him, very few knew how much interest he took in new writing in English, both here and abroad. One could not name a contemporary poet for example, without him knowing something of his biography, or published work. He was almost a professor of English literature without the advantage of a chair in any university.

With such a formidable culture, he was still a very simple, highly accessible person, and one who was prepared to listen to anyone on any subject under the sun. Nonsense of course would be met with derisive laughter and sharp remarks meant more to amuse the ill-informed rather than hurt them. He was great fun in small company where wit was mellowed by wisdom.

He did not have a trace of academic arrogance, and probably did realise academics also parade often with masks too transparent to bear probing. Without number he had helped academics of various persuasions seeking his assistance mainly in the seclusion of his home.

The information he had would be 'down loaded' without a fee or a favour, and he would do it with unlimited generosity and pleasure. An intellectual guide in the truest sense of the term.

One important reason I could discover for this attitude of his towards the 'seekers after' of knowledge, was his great feeling for his fellow human beings. A person's background or the way he articulated his views, opinions or observations was of no concern to him. Everyone who ventured to have a 'dharshan', at home, would be extended the same hospitality.

This lover for all humanity, was also the basis of his successful marriage to Rosalyn, his wife, who predeceased him.

This resulted in a happy marriage of cultures as well, and both were conscious of each other's differences. Yet there was understanding and toleration on each other's part every minute of the day. Rosalyn dearly loved Ian and locoed at him with awe and admiration, even though she could not effectively enter his vast world of books, and varied interests. She did not speak English, and yet she moved with Ian's visitors without being self-conscious or escapist. I am sure over the years she would have had rare glimpses of the world of goodness, truth and beauty that Ian represented. Rosalyn herself was not in the best of health years before she died, but she looked after Ian as he was the only object of interest in the world for her.

I was present at Peradeniya when Ian's portrait by his friend Stanly Kirinde was unveiled in the University library in the midst of the distinguished members of the university fraternity and his erstwhile colleagues and friends of the non-academic world, on the occasion of the ceremonial conferment of the degree of Doctor of Philosophy (honoris causa) of the University of Peradeniya on him.

It was richly deserved if not for anything else, for his monumental Bibliography. Even though Rosalyn had the greatest difficulty in physically moving in and out of the house even, she was there in the assembly to savour the magnificent tribute his academic colleagues were paying her husband at least for half a century of dedicated academic work, especially for his magnum opus, the 'Bibliography', in a visible form.

That was Rosalyn's last public appearance in Ian's company, enjoying seeing the familiar old faces of those who valued and admired her husband's contribution to the life and culture of a nation.

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