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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...

1 российский захватчик, забывший о воинской чести, бойся женского заговора и женской мести, бойся украинских девочек с бутылками зажигательной смеси, бойся наших женщин, особенно в чужом незнакомом месте тебя не звали, не приглашали, не ждали, танчикам твоим допотопным открутят педали, сорвут твою маску, расцарапают тебе морду, наши длинные ногти давно уже вошли в моду наши тонкие пальцы привыкли к технике кухни, она сложнее твоих тупых машин, чтоб твои вены вспухли, чтоб тебя кондрашка хватила у чужого жилого дома, чтоб ты остался под обломками взорванного аэродрома, чтоб ты не вышел из танка, чтоб тебе на шею шина, у украинской женщины работает посудомоечная машина, на столе паровой утюг, в кухне – духовка, электроварка, а тебя кроме стрелять ничему не научили припарка наши женщины бинтуют раны, плетут маскировочные сети, против тебя дурака, в чужой стране ты один на свете чтоб твоя немытая жизнь стала вечной мукой позора, мы не слушали соловьева, мы читали Кафку и Кьеркегора, мы не простим тебя любого, запомни, паскуда мы уже красим ногти и, пока не поздно, вали отсюда     Russian invader, forget all about chivalry, Fear female revenge and female conspiracy, Fear Ukrainian girls, Molotov cocktails in hand, Fear our women, above all in this strange foreign land They didn’t call or invite you, they weren’t waiting for you Keep an eye on your obsolete tank—they’ll unscrew The pedals, rip off your mask, scratch off your face Our long nails are the latest in fashion and grace, Our slender fingers accustomed to kitchen complexity— That’s harder than your dumb vehicles To give you apoplexy, To strike you dead in the house that is someone else’s home, To keep you under the rubble of the bombed-out airdrome, To stop you getting out of the tank, put you in a cervical collar— In a Ukrainian woman’s home, there’s a working dishwasher, An iron on the table, a slow cooker with a steam valve But you know nothing but shooting, nothing of salve Our women bind up wounds, their camouflage nets unfurl To fight you, you fool— in a foreign country, alone in the world To turn your uncleansed life into an eternal torment of shame We ignored Solovyov and read—Kafka and Kierkegaard, by name Remember, we’ll forgive nothing, you scumbags, so flee your fate We’re painting our nails now Get out of here–before it’s too late     2 Сегодня другая война Не та, что была вчера Сегодняшняя тяжелее

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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Prize Entry

April 2017

The Bad Thing

Annie Julia Wyman

Prize Entry

April 2017

1.   It must have been around the same time she decided that she really was using all the...

fiction

January 2015

Shishosetsu...

Minae Mizumura

TR. Juliet Winters Carpenter

fiction

January 2015

This is an excerpt from the novel published in Japanese as Shishosetsu from left to right (私小説 from left...

feature

September 2016

The Rights Of Nerves

Masha Tupitsyn

feature

September 2016

‘I transform “Work” in its analytic meaning (the Work of Mourning, the Dream-Work) into the real “Work” — of...

 

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