Why should a poet who grew up in rural Northern Ireland and a Catholic family be seen as embodying the white British establishment? Only ignorance, I would argue, can lead to such a conclusion. Ultimately, what matters to those who love Feeney is not his identity; it is his expert manipulation of language. The beauty of great literature is its universal quality: that quality resides not in the identity of a poet but in the merit of his or her art.

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