Witty and self-mocking poet, obsessed with humanity

D.J. Enright, who has died of cancer aged 82, is seen by many as the unsung hero of post-war British poetry.

D.J. Enright, who has died of cancer aged 82, is seen by many as the unsung hero of post-war British poetry.

An outside bet - and reluctant candidate - as poet laureate in 1984, he was in most respects a deeply unBritish poet, one whose best-known poems are set in the distant parts where he worked much of his life. It is hard to think of a poet whom other poets held in more affection.

That affection was stirred by the intelligence and integrity he brought to a range of writing: his novel Academic Year (1955), his Memoirs Of A Mendicant Professor (1969), his essays, reviews, anthologies and children's books. But the real affection was for the man: gentle-mannered but uncompromising, tough-minded but humane, above all funny.

Enright was born in Leamington. His father was Irish and a postman, his mother Welsh and a chapel-goer. In his 50s, he wrote about his working-class, Black Country upbringing, in the anecdotal The Terrible Shears (1973). Even when recounting social snobbery, he remains affectionate, wry: "How docile the lower orders were/ In those days! Having done/ Unexpectedly well in the School Cert,/ I was advised by the headmaster to leave school/ At once and get a job before they found/ A mistake in the examination results."

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Enright was taught at Downing College, Cambridge, by F.R. Leavis and contributed to the magazine Scrutiny. His tutor's idea that literature can and should enlarge our moral universe was one that never left him.

He taught overseas - mainly in south Asian universities from 1947 to 1970 - by default: as a disciple of Leavis he could not get a job in British universities. But in Alexandria (1947-50) - where he met his French wife, Madeleine - he found life a good deal more attractive than in ration-book Britain.

Stubbornly independent, and thus an object of mistrust to the British embassy and foreign governments, Enright twice provoked diplomatic incidents. The first was in Bangkok, where he was British Council professor at Chulalongkorn University (1957-59). Driving home late, he found his route blocked by a police car whose occupants were visiting a brothel: gently closing the car door to pass, he was set upon by 15 policemen who, as he described it in his autobiography, were obliged "to beat me up in self-defence". A night in a prison cell followed. The embassy told him he was "a disgrace". Though innocent, he lost his contract.

Enright remained in Singapore for 10 years. By then he was well-established as a writer, having published four novels and six collections of poems. He had also earned himself a footnote in literary history by being the first person to anthologise the poets who became known as the Movement: Philip Larkin, Kingsley Amis and Enright himself among them.

A 1950s trip to Hiroshima left its mark. So did his experience of Berlin, where he lectured at the Free University (1956-57). This forced him to confront his Leavisite assumptions about the civilising powers of high art.

But playfulness was Enright's more customary method for dealing with sombre themes. His poems are never more punning than when faced with the unpalatable realities of the age: "In this vale of teargas/ Should one enter a caveat/ Or a monastery?"

Part of his strength was that he went on worrying away at the morality of poetry. Poet Wondering What He Is Up To is the title of one of his best poems, but he could find no simple answer, except that there is none.

Back in England, Enright co-edited Encounter magazine (1970-72). Chatto & Windus's managing director, Norah Smallwood, made him an editor and gave him a place on the board (1974-82).

It is for the wit, compassion and self-mockery of his poetry that he will be remembered. Some critics, like the late Donald Davie, used to argue that, though admirable, these qualities so inhibited Enright that he lacked the amoral ferocity which great poetry requires.

Tant pis, he would surely have replied: if great artists are not humane, then he did not want to be one. When asked once if he had ever seen the phrase "obsessive humanity" applied to his work, he replied that he had not: "But I wouldn't object to it. What else is there to be obsessed with?"

He is survived by his wife Madeleine, their daughter, and three grandchildren.

Dennis Joseph Enright: born March 11th, 1920; died December 31st, 2002.