Seamus Heaney Mossbawn Sunlight Free Essays
The bullfighting supporters in the bullfight audience have an unhealthy attitude to matters of 'cowardice' as well as courage. Here, I concentrate on their attitude to the 'cowardice' of many bulls, not their criticism of bullfighters who show cowardice in the ring. When bullfighting supporters, almost in unison, whistle to show their disapproval and contempt as a 'cowardly' bull is dragged out of the arena, then surely this amounts to hypocrisy, lack of self-awareness, lack of self-criticism, a whole range of glaring, undesirable, diseased faults.
Seamus Heaneys Poem, Digging Essay examples - …
I've written far more about the poet Seamus Heaney than about bullfighting (and Alexander Fiske-Harrison) and I've had cause to mention Seamus Heaney's name far more often than his. It isn't 'weird' to mention Seamus Heaney's name in discussions of the poet and his poetry. I've mentioned the names 'Rilke' and 'Kafka' very often in my page on Rilke and Kafka, the name 'Nietzsche' very often in my page on Nietzsche and the name 'Jared Carter' very often in my page on Jared Carter's poetry. Further examples would be superfluous, I'm sure.
'That bullfighting should become a thing of the past in separatist Barcelona is less important than that public apathy is taking hold in Madrid, Valencia and Andalusia, Spain's bastions of bullfighting. "Before, you put up a poster and the people came," says Juan Carlos Beca Belmonte, the manager of Madrid's Las Ventas bullring, Spain's most prestigious plaza de toros. "Now we are the ones who have to chase after the crowd." Luis Corrales, president of the Platform in Defence of the Bull Festival, says: "There used to be only bullfighting or soccer, or maybe a movie. But now there are so many other leisure choices." Spanish state television, mindful of the corrida's diminishing appeal, has also cut by almost one-third the air time it devotes to bullfighting, and many private channels no longer broadcast from the ring. The concomitant fall in advertising revenues is exacerbating the financial crisis confronting bullring operators, who must pay up to $50,000 for a full quota of bulls and as much as $575,000 for a top matador and his entourage for a single corrida. To break even for each fight, promoters must sell at least 75 per cent of seats. At one level, rumours of bullfighting's demise are premature, for this remains a multimillion-dollar industry that employs 150,000 Spaniards. Every year, Spain's 60 major bullrings draw about 20 million spectators who pay $1.35 billion into the industry's coffers. The mid-May Fiesta de San Isidro in Madrid, which heralds the start of Spain's most important bullfighting season, is a major social event where the great and good of Spain gather to be seen in illustrious company. Matadors, defined by their statuesque grace, dazzling traje de luces (suit of lights) and glamorous lifestyles, are national celebrities whose private lives are dissected by Spain's scandalised and scandalous prensa rosa (pink press). But the fact that the average Spaniard is now more likely to know a bullfighter's face from the pages of a magazine than they are to have seen him in the bullring reinforces the widely held view that bullfighting's glory days have passed. The figures that attest to the size of the industry also conceal the serious financial difficulties that confront almost every major bullring. Even members of the bullfighting fraternity admit that they no longer stand at the centre of Spanish life. "My goal is for bullfighting to form a part of today's society, instead of remaining on the margins," says Alejandro Seaz, a Spanish businessman and bullfighting promoter. Of far greater concern for supporters of bullfighting are two simple, telling statistics: the average spectator at Las Ventas bullring in Madrid is a fiftysomething male and just 17 per cent of Spaniards younger than 24 say that they are at least "somewhat interested" in bullfighting. In an attempt to attract a younger generation of bullfighting aficionados, and in order to pay the bills, promoters have been forced to transform the amphitheatre-style bullrings into multipurpose arenas. Bullfights now share the stage with rock concerts, and sanitised performances akin to circuses (where the bulls are not killed and acrobats leap over the bulls' horns) have begun to replace the traditional battle to the death between man and beast. In Valencia, ticket prices, which for keynote bullfights can run as high as $200, have been slashed, cocktail bars installed and free glossy magazines handed out so as to widen the corrida's appeal. In the largely conservative world of bullfighting, however, resistance remains to the idea that the tradition must reinvent itself. The corrida is an essential pillar of Spanish cultural identity, their argument runs, and something quintessentially Spanish would be forever lost were bullfighting forced to change. According to Jose Maria Garcia-Lujan, a lawyer involved in the running of Las Ventas: "They don't like to touch anything, lest the magic wear off". There are nonetheless signs that the magic may have already worn off for an industry showing the unmistakeable signs of permanent decline. Increasingly abandoned by younger Spaniards, tarnished by sordid kiss-and-tell scandals and suddenly peripheral in the country of its birth, bullfighting is being forced to ask whether it can survive as a viable tradition beyond the current generation of aficionados. The question has been asked before, not least by Hemingway, one of bullfighting's most trenchant defenders, who wrote in the 1930s: "How long the bullfight survives as a lynchpin of Spanish life probably depends on whether the majority of the population thinks it makes them feel good." Whether because bullfighting no longer makes Spaniards feel good or simply because they have better things to do with their time, the answer has never been less certain.'