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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...

#DROWNINGNOTDROWNING   to find me, plausible and aspiring in a relevant dress and full of promise oh internet, oh tumblr, at twenty your sunniest meme is a church i enter, mouth full of feigning: i will be well to find me so, industrious and suffering sweet bean or sesame, darkest soy, an oyster sauce i squeeze from me my pores are little sepulchres: my face is thick with foreign bodies my face is foreign bodies you don’t know except you do i do not know about anything, weary and sleek at three am what is it to be so heavy with lustre that you can’t even? in my vault of suspect valentines, a boy whose kiss is an absolute brat and it wants what it wants he said i had become intense he lead me not into temptation in the night, when the body is its realest zoo, couldn’t we all use a few of those flavourless mercies? and by mercy, a kind of white-people tea you drink it off hot and without sugar me, when the heart turns watertight me, at half the speed of me>> <<to find you, i won’t days of lulling wound, i know, when hands cannot comply youth is being in the world and the serpent under it: better to have not been born is the penitent subtext of all our comic fonts oh internet, oh, blog of blogs atypical silk of self cut, and a softer filter over us a squealing dream at night i’m unzipping a damsel i’m climbing in through her face to say yes and i thought if i could lay my shadow in a stranger’s lap, could stretch myself the length of my light reading, i would be sane i would drain the blank page like solemn milk i fail by theft, by thrift, by pills, by mania’s several devices to find you if anyone could if i could reach back through the rabbit for the hat paranoid, and nobody wants to fuck that thought nobody wants to deal what does it mean to go under? to become: sclerite, the spiny element in me kelps and corals, colonial forms, good sea-stalwarts all down through fleabane, limonium, and sweetest vulgare a red finger gropes for

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...

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poetry

May 2012

REGULAR BLACK

Sam Riviere

poetry

May 2012

Who wouldn’t rather be watching a film about werewolves instead of composing friends’ funeral playlists all day I’ve been...

feature

January 2017

Take Comfort

Heather Radke

feature

January 2017

I. One week after Buzz and Heather broke up, she dragged her mattress into her living room. She moved...

feature

Issue No. 5

The White Review No. 5 Editorial

The Editors

feature

Issue No. 5

One of the two editors of The White Review recently committed a faux pas by reacting with undisguised and indeed...

 

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