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Kevin Brazil
Kevin Brazil is a writer and critic who lives in London. His writing has appeared in Granta, The White Review, the London Review of Books, the Times Literary Supplement, Art Review, art-agenda, Studio International, and elsewhere. He is writing a book about queer happiness.

Articles Available Online


Interview with Sianne Ngai

Interview

October 2020

Kevin Brazil

Interview

October 2020

Over the past fifteen years, Sianne Ngai has created a taxonomy of the aesthetic features of contemporary capitalism: the emotions it provokes, the judgements...

Essay

Issue No. 28

Fear of a Gay Planet

Kevin Brazil

Essay

Issue No. 28

In Robert Ferro’s 1988 novel Second Son, Mark Valerian suffers from an unnamed illness afflicting gay men, spread by...

The White Review · Cecilia Knapp – ‘All My Ex Boyfriends Are Having A Dinner Party’ all my ex boyfriends are having a dinner party   comparing their tight obliques how red their meat hattricks for their grassroots teams saying they once had me in a car how I can never keep my mouth shut I always wanted to stay the night I’m dieting again burning my hands sipping low cal miso on a moving train I smile at other joggers like I’m enjoying this the dentist says I have yellow teeth his hands holding my tongue mum said there is nothing you can’t do so long as you’re wearing washing up gloves a purple leaflet in the waiting room asks me if life has worked out a) better b) worse or c) the same for one thousand pounds I can fix my teeth mum used to ballroom dance a wooden spoon weeping with the radio I’ve been keeping my fallen eye lashes in a bag I spit pink foam into the sink decide this week I will eat only eggs until the days smudge do the fat burn challenge pain is a man in a blue suit I see people eating crisps in public on Mondays like they have no guilt     The White Review · Cecilia Knapp – ‘We Girls Our Names’ We girls our names   on pink keyrings, him gargling a shadow outside dad’s house He can’t come in At the petrol station he buys a bottle, a cigarette between us Christmas stink swings from the rear-view, I lean to kiss the blond grit on his chin, my neck sliced by the seatbelt Our scents quickening, the Lynx hiding faith, tongues bleached mint At 14 I’m all worship, small knowing, a seal pup in waiting legs newly slick from dad’s razor Later

Contributor

March 2018

Kevin Brazil

Contributor

March 2018

Kevin Brazil is a writer and critic who lives in London. His writing has appeared in Granta, The White Review, the London...

Interview with Terre Thaemlitz

Interview

March 2018

Kevin Brazil

Interview

March 2018

In the first room of Terre Thaemlitz’s 2017 exhibition ‘INTERSTICES’, at Auto Italia in London, columns of white text ran across one wall. Thaemlitz...

READ NEXT

poetry

October 2013

Steam

Jon Stone

poetry

October 2013

Steam in the changing rooms, stripping off after the race, breathes like an engine. The air is filled up...

feature

September 2014

Missing Footage

Raphael Rubinstein

feature

September 2014

The discovery of absences (lacks, lacunae) and their definition must in turn lead the filmmaker as composer to the...

feature

January 2013

A Black Hat, Silence and Bombshells : Michael Hofmann at Cambridge & After

Stephen Romer

feature

January 2013

The black hat and the black coat I was familiar with, before I knew their owner. It was Cambridge,...

 

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