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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.

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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...

Sometimes he would emerge from his bedroom around midday and the sun would be more or less bright, or else the sun wouldn’t be out at all, it being a grey day And maybe that was good, standing half-asleep in the dimness of the hallway, unsure of how the day would ultimately reveal itself   Mondays, without a job or anything else to go to, he could stare out at the city with a cup of tea going cold and try to think things through On Monday mornings, he believed, there were always questions In the distance, with a sort of great yawn, the city would begin to pick up from where it left off In these moments he felt the most sympathy for this strange thing, which breathed over him whilst he slept   Planes would fly overhead Big machines put into the sky, trailing patterns that, with time, became clouds Carrying people and things He listened to the crying of the planes in bed, looking up at the dark ceiling and imagining all of the unseen passengers who were going places, turning over on his side to hear the faint din of them reaching the edge of the night-sky, alive with impatient determination   He took a sip from his tea He still had a small bit of money left It was, he figured, enough to see him through the week   *** They had told her that a busy period was approaching so she took half of the day off, hoping to get back to the office just after lunchtime What had been cool and quiet in the early morning had become almost unbearably warm The streets, in the full sun, were now brash and bothered, jostling her on the way to the doctors Only now, hours since she had woken up, did she feel awake for the first time that day, surrounded by the sudden almighty hubbub of the city She reflected that this was life, more or less Life in all its offhand givings and takings But it was just a small thought and as she carried on walking her

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 2013

Flatlands

Saskia Hamilton

poetry

May 2013

Horses and geese in a sodden field. Solitaries with luggage on a wet platform. Postage-stamp house on a bit...

Interview

September 2013

Interview with László Krasznahorkai

George Szirtes

Interview

September 2013

László Krasznahorkai was born in Gyula, Hungary, in 1954, and has written five novels and several collections of essays...

Interview

February 2013

Interview with Wayne Koestenbaum

Charlie Fox

Interview

February 2013

Perhaps what’s gathered here is not an interview at all. Precisely what it is, we’ll think about in a...

 

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