Nicola Andrews (Ngāti Paoa; Pākehā) grew up in Waitakere City and currently lives in San Francisco. They are an alum of writing communities including Tin House, Kenyon Review, and VONA. A librarian by day, they were recently named a Library Journal Mover & Shaker, and awarded the GOLD Alumni Impact Award by the University of Washington.

Nicola is the author of four chapbooks. Their debut full-length poetry collection Overseas Experience was recently published by Āporo Press. It’s described as ‘deeply referential and rewardingly funny; a collection resonant with anyone who’s made a new home across the sea.’

Kete caught up with Nicola to ask them some questions about Overseas Experience, their recent reading, and what’s up next.

What’s been the best part of writing and releasing Overseas Experience? Can you tell us more about it?

Overseas Experience began as a compilation of two poetry chapbooks previously published in the United States: Māori Maid Difficult and Hinting at Decolonization. Last year, Damien Levi from Āporo Press approached me about publishing a full-length collection and I was thrilled to be able to put together a manuscript knowing the result would specifically be available for an Aotearoa audience. What followed was months of writing and reflecting on what I wanted to put forth as a mixed-race, queer, urban Māori who tries very hard to engage in te ao Māori while living overseas. The finished book explores identity formation and reformation, whānau losses, cultural appropriation, te reo, news headlines, and more. 

Being able to talk through ideas with Damien, ideate cover design with Kaan Hiini, and square away typesetting with Ruby Leonard was fantastic, and I felt listened to and supported at each step. I’m proud of the work we did together! Releasing this book from abroad is a bit of a trust-fall into the Aotearoa literary community - I don’t have any expectations, but I hope Overseas Experience resonates with readers, and I look forward to further deepening my craft. 

Who is your ideal reader for this book? Who needs to read it?

I wrote this book for diasporatanga (or as I sometimes say, tangata kuaka), and their whānau; and I hope it makes its way to anyone who needs a little validation in their journey. Making your way away from home and whānau is not easy, particularly as people move through different phases of life and their interests, responsibilities, and priorities evolve.

I hope that readers of this book can appreciate both the “letter to the editor” aspects, and the many puns and pop culture references in my work. I am honoured to share this pukapuka with you.

Tell us what inspires you? An author, a book, a place, or whatever you like…

Lately, I’ve been inspired by concepts of deliberation, slow librarianship, sustainability and analogue life. I’ve recently been reading Jenny Odell’s works - Saving Time and How to do Nothing - although it’s hard to implement some of these concepts under political and institutional power structures! I’m always switching between duties at work and I’d love to be able to sustain a deep writing practice. Perhaps a residency is in order!

What Aotearoa New Zealand book do you wish you’d written?

Two books spring to mind immediately - Ruin and Other Stories by Emma Hislop; and Always Italicise: How to Write While Colonised by Alice Te Punga Somerville. Both are brilliant, iconic works in their respective genres. 

In particular, I hope I can write as powerfully as Alice does, someday. The first time I read her piece Kupu rere kē, I gasped. At work a couple of months ago, I read An Indigenous woman scholar’s prayer and Firsts during the university graduation ceremony for our Pacific Island students - professors and students alike loved both pieces, and saw themselves and our futures in them.

What’s been your best read this year so far?

I recently read Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar and was blown away. Akbar explores so much in this novel, including life/death, addiction/sobriety, and identity. Along with the multiple character arcs, there are strands of history, theology, poetry, and art threaded in which keeps things very interesting, at least for nerdy types like myself.

Becky Manawatu’s Kataraina is getting a US release later this year and I’m very much looking forward to reading it, having successfully dodged spoilers so far. 

And last, but definitely not least, what are you writing next?

I work in academia and in the very near future I need to crack on with a draft for a peer-reviewed article I have in the works. Creatively, I want to take my time before putting forth a new manuscript - I’ve written, pitched, and published four chapbooks and a full-length collection in the last two years - surely that’s enough to have hung out a shingle as an indie author! I have an idea for a poetry collection exploring whakapapa, and perhaps venturing into short stories with some pieces about Y2K Internet shenanigans. Having said that, I’d love a chance to submit to Aotearoa-anthologies and present work alongside my peers, particularly works with a Māori or Pacific focus.

Nicola and Āporo Press have very kindly given Kete permission to publish this poem from Overseas Experience, published June 2025, RRP $30

Te Toi Uku

I’m looking to score, scrolling eBay again
as dusk rolls around, Sunday silvering slip
cast into yearning for tūī, and Temuka too.

Scrutinising the listings, I transform from
Antiques Roadshow enthusiast to curator,
family historian. That’s Nan’s cup, our plates.

One minute you’re a kid in Henderson, turning
your nose up at powdered milk in Ironstone.
Then you’re thrown into a cyberwar, bidding 

against those Herne Bay hobbyists, who
adorn their mantels with rows of chalky vases
in matte and monochrome. No longer cradling

armfuls of tulips, the tea rooms have closed.
Funny, how luxury chips away at domesticity, 
and the rich sport the veneer of the everyday.

I watched a doco about the factory once, and 
spotted my whanaunga, the one whose painted
sign still decorates our marae. She, a steady fire:

Honey-glazed and smiling, painting ashtrays while
jostling bub on her hip. Workers thrust their hands
into the Whau, dodging tūnā, dredging clods of clay

that yield under careful fingertips, before blooming 
above the wheel’s circumference. I’d be happy spinning
teacups and going on smoko, too. Open up, I’ll be there.

Funny, such tender refinement in porcelain, and at odds
with our Westie rep—but everyone wants us, our radiant 
kauri gum, wild magnetic beaches. Our wine and velocity.

I bid on a blue butter dish, and consider my whanaunga,
carving corridors through the sky, the flightpath perhaps
resembling the gently curved neck of a white swan.

Living abroad, in a city of earthquakes, collecting
vintage breakables is my biggest flex. It’s an absurd
love, knowing that any day could bring shattering.