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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


Alvaro Barrington, Garvey: Sex Love Nurturing Famalay

Art Review

October 2019

Kevin Brazil

Art Review

October 2019

The unofficial anthem of this year’s London Carnival was ‘Famalay’, a bouyon-influenced soca song that won the Road March in Trinidad & Tobago’s Carnival...

Essay

October 2018

The Uses of Queer Art

Kevin Brazil

Essay

October 2018

In June 2018 a crowd assembled in Tate Britain to ask: ‘What does a queer museum look like?’ Surrounded...

A lot of people tell me my voice is similar to that of the actor Christopher Walken I don’t believe them And I would prefer it if you did not imagine him reading this to you now   There’s this guy – an old guy – who lives in the house next door to mine Our homes, from the outside, are the same The same windows, the same driveway and the same lawn The same aluminium front door and the same stylish-ten-years-ago uplighting   I’m not sure how long this neighbour – let’s call him Billy Crystal – has lived next door to me I only got to meet him very recently You might think that this would make one of us – myself or Billy – a recluse or a shut-in Well, you would be wrong We just didn’t cross paths In my corner of Richmond, Virginia this is not unusual   The series of events which led to my neighbour and I meeting were as follows It was a Tuesday It was late Let’s say eleven If I can swing it, I like to be in bed by ten as it takes me around two-and-a-half hours to fall asleep I had just got back from shooting a rock and roll concert and needed to take out the trash I opened up my pedal-activated chrome trash-can and lifted out the bag, placing it inside another bag After spraying the inside of the can with disinfectant I looped the inner bag’s handles under the outer-bag’s and secured the whole thing with a knot Tight   At the front of my drive there’s a sort-of-box in which trash is put I was on my way to this box when I noticed I was walking step-for-step in time with another man, also taking out his garbage, over the fence to my left He looked a little like me A bit older and looser I stopped and, feeling chipper, yelled a greeting of ‘Hello neighbour!’   This startled the other guy and he dropped his garbage bag It hit the ground and split open, red chunks of meat and liquid sliding out across

Contributor

July 2018

Kevin Brazil

Contributor

July 2018

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

Nora Ikstena's ‘Soviet Milk’

Book Review

August 2018

Kevin Brazil

Book Review

August 2018

Soviet Milk by Nora Ikstena opens with two women who cannot remember. ‘I don’t remember 15 October 1969,’ says the first. ‘I don’t remember...

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Art

June 2012

'The Freedom of Speech Itself', or the betrayal of the voice

Lorena Muñoz-Alonso

Art

June 2012

‘The instability of an accent, its borrowed and hybridised phonetic form, is testimony not to someone’s origins but only...

feature

Issue No. 7

Comment is Fraught: A Polemic

Mr Guardianista

feature

Issue No. 7

When not listening to the phone messages of recently deceased children or smearing those killed in stadium disasters, journalists...

fiction

Issue No. 9

Pulitzer Prize-Winning Author James Murphy's Notes on Nicola Morelli Berengo

Francesco Pacifico

TR. Livia Franchini

fiction

Issue No. 9

Biography | Cattolicissimo trio composed of mother father beloved son. God, why doesn’t the English language have an equivalent...

 

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