Mailing List


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...

The automatic rifle fire was followed by an unnerving whistle at Ti’s ear He gripped the shopping bags, grabbed Lo Ling’s arm and pulled her into a sprint Together they made for the alleys with the rest of the crowd   He could not believe it – the troops were shooting again His shock endured even as a line of wet red spattered up his shirtsleeve A man spun and fell Any thought of helping was gone before it was fully considered The pulpy mess was soon out of sight   Lo Ling was screaming, struggling to keep up Ti held firm at her elbow He dared not slow down His grandfather’s sìhéyuàn was close by and would be safe   There was another crack of gunfire More whistles Panic stretched across his belly, bound tighter and tighter by the footfall of everyone running The relentless stomp-stomp-stomp alarmed him most, over the barging and stumbling; the regular cries of ‘They’re coming! They’re coming!’   Not for the first time, he cursed the students in the square His anger was personal, far from any political point of view More than anything he wished for a return to normality   If the students dispersed, the army would leave and order could be restored, which was best for all People could get on with their lives He could get on with courting Lo Ling in peace   ‘I need to stop,’ she called behind   ‘Not far to Wài Gōng’s,’ he answered and hauled her into another side lane of the hútòng   They ran on, as fast as his heavying legs and scorching lungs could carry them His grandfather’s courtyard residence was at the end of the next passage, less than ten minutes’ away   ‘Please’ Lo Ling pulled harder against him ‘I’m going to be ill,’ she sobbed   Hesitantly, he stopped to let her catch her breath She bent double and panted at a wall Despite a searing thud to his own chest, he fought the urge to join her   Their fellow citizens rushed by They warned Ti not to stay out of doors It was not safe tonight He nodded at them politely, a whir in his ears causing

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...

READ NEXT

fiction

July 2013

univers, univers

Régis Jauffret

TR. Jeffrey Zuckerman

fiction

July 2013

I. You remember your childhood. Your tow-headed, reddish-tinged mother, who yelled after you all day like a Paraguayan peasant...

poetry

May 2012

Monopoly (after Ashbery)

Sarah Howe

poetry

May 2012

I keep everything until the moment it’s needed. I am the glint in your bank manager’s eye. I never...

fiction

November 2015

Wolves

Jeon Sungtae

TR. Sora Kim-Russell

fiction

November 2015

The Chief   The sound of the bell for the closing of the temple gate reaches my ears. I...

 

Get our newsletter

 

* indicates required