Dedicated to the memory of Andy

Andrew Brown, who has died aged 63 of cancer, was one of the leading academic publishers of his generation. Having joined Cambridge University Press as a graduate trainee in 1976, he went on to shape its English and American literature lists before being promoted to senior management roles that took him around the world.

Andy's love of literature was nurtured at Magdalene College, Cambridge, He taught in the US before returning to Magdalene to write his doctoral thesis on the novels of Edward Bulwer Lytton, author of The Last Days of Pompeii, then a greatly underestimated figure. Later he produced an outstanding edition of George Eliot's Romola for Oxford University Press, while working for CUP in his day job, clearly relishing the challenge of annotating that most learned of novels and minutely comparing different versions of the text. It was this personal engagement in scholarship, combined with an eclectic interest in world literature and a passionate interest in classical music, film and Liverpool FC that made him such an effective professional and convivial friend.

Andy was born in London, the son of Edgar Brown, a captain in the Fleet Air Arm, and his wife Odette (nee Ekserdjian), who served in the SOE during the second world war. He was educated at Cranleigh school, Surrey, and won an exhibition in English at Magdalene in 1967. He married Lorna Williams in 1990.

At CUP Andy worked initially for Michael Black as a junior editor in the humanities, becoming senior editor for literature in 1983, after he had established the company's significant presence in American literary studies. He later took on managerial positions, culminating in his appointment as managing director, academic and professional publishing, in 2002. While having responsibility for the publication of more than 1,500 titles a year, he carefully preserved the high standards of the oldest press in the world.

His quickness of wit and generosity of spirit made an immediate impression upon colleagues and authors alike, and were the key to his success as a publisher. He had a direct and effective business style, and was a master of the outrageous comment that puts the other person, or a meeting, at ease. A deeply loyal man, he became a fellow commoner of Magdalene.

When a trustee was sought for the Murray Bequest, supporting activities in the history of art department at Birkbeck, the University of London's provider of evening courses, he was a natural choice. A wide circle of friends knew him as a man of fierce intelligence and deep humanity, famed for his sense of humour, and a keen golfer and cricketer.

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Andy is irreplaceable, as a publisher and as a friend. His unique combination of a wickedly funny cynicism about academia and a deep and lasting value for scholarship informed almost everything I learned about publishing in my early days at the Press, from 1988. Who else could have been at home discussing the minutiae of textual bibliography alongside the Carry On films? Or maintained such an outrageous degree of maverick irreverence in positions of great responsibility, and in contexts which appeared to demand a degree of solemnity? Andy’s death has unleashed so many fond and funny memories that he now seems more present than ever, and I can hear his voice at every turn. To lose one who appeared – in the words of a colleague – so indestructible has been a mortality check indeed. His resilience in the last months was amazing, and it was entirely characteristic of Andy to have maintained complete sang froid (‘dinna fash my dear, there’s nothing you can do’) while allowing glimpses of great tenderness for the family he has left behind. His influence has been profound, and I will miss him terribly.
Josie Dixon
7th June 2019
Thank you for setting up this memorial to Andy. We hope that you find it a positive experience developing the site and that it becomes a place of comfort and inspiration for you to visit whenever you want or need to.
Sent by Addenbrooke's Charitable Trust (ACT) on 07/06/2019
I am I and you are you, whatever we were to each other that we still are. Speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? Life means all that it ever meant, it is the same as it ever was.
Extract from a poem by Henry Scott Holland

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