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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...

Moments ago, the woman with the lovely dimples had been shivering, utterly ravaged by the evening, but now her face was plastered with a smile, her dimples deepening as she gathered up her clothes A moment ago she had been a newlywed, teeth chattering, pale and in agony Now she was a happy young divorcee   The man had already dissolved their union He had emphatically recited his three talaq: I divorce you, I divorce you, I divorce you Their first night together was also their last Sitting on the bed’s golden sheets with the scent of jasmine floating in the air, Dimples had taken stock of the situation Sweat still clung to her skin and her long hair fell across her back onto the pillow She was still half-naked but she had to leave immediately, because she was no longer the mistress of the house   There was the sound of the man’s impatient steps behind the door, keplak-keplak She recalled him stripping her naked and then undressing himself, just a short while ago Dimples had frozen like ice while that man was on fire, leaping upon her and thrusting ferociously Then he stopped for a moment, his forehead wrinkled Not for very long, but long enough for Dimples to ask silently, What’s wrong? Am I too young for you, Master? The man’s reply was to make the bed rattle like a palm tree branch being thrashed by a hurricane as he hurriedly finished his lovemaking Then they both lay back for a moment, flooded with sweat and gasping for breath   But the man was still on fire – not with desire, but with rage He threw a blanket over Dimples, jumped up from the bed and pulled on his shorts Without even looking in her direction, he cursed her before severing the ties between them, slamming the door of their wedding chamber with a final shout: ‘You whore!’   *   The woman with the two snot-nosed kids had watched stonily as the headman had bound Dimples and her destiny to that man Dimples didn’t have the strength to return her malicious stare – drowning in

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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Interview

August 2017

Interview with Ottessa Moshfegh

Yen Pham

Interview

August 2017

Ottessa Moshfegh’s first two books are, as she tells me, very different from one another. But despite the contrast...

poetry

January 2015

dear angélica

Angélica Freitas

TR. Hilary Kaplan

poetry

January 2015

dear angélica   dear angélica I can’t make it I got stuck in the elevator between the ninth and...

Prize Entry

April 2015

Posman

Nick Mulgrew

Prize Entry

April 2015

After a while you memorise the steps. You read the addresses and your calves just know, hey. They just...

 

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