Chris Andrews was born in Newcastle (Australia) in 1962. He grew up in Melbourne. After completing a Ph.D at the University of Melbourne, he taught there, in the French department, from 1995 to 2008. In 2009 he took up a position at the University of Western Sydney, where he is a member of the Writing and Society Research Centre. His first book of poems was Cut Lunch (Indigo, 2002). He has translated books of fiction by Latin American authors, including Roberto Bolaño’s By Night in Chile (Harvill / New Directions, 2003) and César Aira’s Varamo (New Directions, 2012), and was a recipient of the Vallé-Inclan Prize for Literary Translation from Spanish (British Society of Authors) (2005).

Books by Chris Andrews:

Other poems on the web by Chris Andrews:
"Sonic Age"
Three poems

Chris Andrews According to Wikipedia.

About Lime Green Chair:

"Throughout these poems one senses the ghostly presence of the uncanny, moments of implication, and the discontinuous, troubling character of experience. Precision and strangeness play off one another to great effect ... The pressure that time exerts on our selves no matter what, wearing us and our world down, is a constant in Andrews’ poetry. The message is dark, as it tends to be in most lyric poetry, but here, in Chris Andrews’ second book of poems, it is beautifully, memorably articulated."
—Mark Strand

"I read Chris Andrews’s Lime Green Chair with enormous pleasure. It’s a gorgeous, enthralling collection that captures the ‘surrealism of everyday life’, to use a phrase of Elizabeth Bishop’s, with elegance, wit, and supreme sophistication. These supple, eloquent poems coalesce to create a kaleidoscopic elegy to the mournful scandal of time’s passing."
—Mark Ford

"Alert and sparkling, my fellow-poet Chris Andrews has an eye for every small thing in our modern cities: and the words for it. Andrews drinks language with sheer delight, all the way from ‘daft pyjamas’ through ‘plughole’ to ‘guttural haruspication’. His humanism also offers rich intuitions into the dailiness of ageing; his syntax of perception is needle-sharp. Not least, he keeps us diverted with a thirteen-eight stanza form which mockingly subverts centuries of the sonnet in English."
—Chris Wallace-Crabbe