Is disdain for Céline Dion innate or learned? Is our love or hatred of My Heart Will Go On the result of a universal, disinterested instinct for beauty-assessment? Or is it something less exalted? Carl Wilson tends to side with the French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu, who argues that taste is never disinterested: It’s a form of social currency, or “cultural capital,†that we use to stockpile prestige. Hating Céline is therefore not just an aesthetic choice, but an ethical one, a way to elevate yourself above her fans—who, according to market research, tend to be disproportionately poor adult women living in flyover states and shopping at big-box stores.
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