Lots of us havetastesin music, movies, stories, or art—and we generally know what they are. I really enjoy depressive Britishsadcoms. One friend enjoys almost all political dramas. Another enjoys genuinely absurd, surreal horror films. A family member won’t watch anything that uses cartoon animation, and another can’t stand romantic comedies.

These groups of things we like tend to fall into genres: groups of movies, music, or other arts that have readily identifiable descriptive features in common. (This may not be accidental; maybe the reason we label the genre groups we do is that people who really like some members of one genre group tend to like other members of it as well.) This is partly what makes it useful to figure out which genres of movies, music, etc. you tend to enjoy. Knowing what you like in genre terms allows you to search through a relatively homogeneous category with some confidence that you’ll find something in that category to enjoy.

In a certain light, though, the fact that our tastes tend to fall along genre lines can look really remarkable. Is there really anythinginherentlybetter about sadcoms than the optimistic, colorful American comedies that I love to hate? (Sorry,Parks and Recreation, I’ll never get it.) The answer is probably ‘no.’ But then what explains my liking sadcoms so much? At best, my liking can look like a merely subjective reaction to something I recognize or identify with; at worst, it can look like an absurd fetishization of a certain kind of irony.

这两种解释的共同点在于，我喜欢的某一类型的某些成员具有纯粹的主观内容。It’s either just blank, inexplicable joy in sadcom misery (which others may or may not share) or it’s a recognition of sadcom features as something that scratch a particular itch ofmine—or both. It’s become a truism that there’s no explaining—and no disputing—these tastes. It would be just as silly to try andjustifythem as it would to justify my preference for chocolate ice cream over vanilla.

This basic thought has led a lot of philosophers to ignore genre-tracking tastes in studies of Aesthetic Value. Aesthetic Value (which I capitalize here in order to express its Very Serious Weightiness) is often thought to have aspirations beyond merely subjective likings. When you talk about “beautiful” or “great” works of art, you seem to be implying that they have such Aesthetic Value. And in doing that, you aren’tjustsaying that you like them. It seems like you are saying they havesomething in themto be appreciated. You are suggesting that othersshouldappreciate them as you do. In more extreme cases, you might even suggest that others whodon’tappreciate them as you do are mistaken or even defective in their faculties. (The classic source of this point is Immanuel Kant’sCritique of Judgment.) There’s having taste, you might think, and then there’s Having Taste. The first is merely subjective, the latter of Great Weight (and perhaps even Genuine Objectivity).

Now, I think it is true that when you就像many members of a genre you don’tnecessarilythink they have any real Aesthetic Value. But I do think philosophers are too quick to draw a sharp distinction between taste and Taste. There are all sorts of ways in whichliking有些东西，和认为它具有真正的审美价值，可能是相关的。Here are just a few ways of thinking of the connection between subjective liking and judgments of Aesthetic Value:

(A) Perhaps there is afeelingin common between cases in which you just simply like something, and cases in which you find something to have real Aesthetic Value. In this case, the common feeling might lead you tomistakesome things you merely like for things with Aesthetic Value.

(B) Perhaps liking something in a merely subjective way is a way of attributingsomeform of Value to an object—but not necessarily Aesthetic Value, whatever that is. If so, what is this other kind of Value? It might be a special sort of value for each of the genres we care about; perhaps there is a standard of excellence inherent to period mysteries, and an entirely different standard of excellence inherent to experimental film noir.

(C) Perhaps liking something in a merely subjective wayisto attributeAesthetic在某种程度上，它是有价值的。In this case, you mightovervalue那些属于你喜欢的类型的东西。这可能是一种持久的感知错觉;you can’thelpmaking this attribution of Aesthetic Value, but you can learn when to discount it, and to avoid recommending (e.g.) psychological thrillers to those who don’t themselves enjoy them.

(D) Perhaps there is an essential relationship betweenlikingthe works of art of a genre and theabilityto judge their Aesthetic Value accurately. Liking (e.g.) British sadcoms revs up your attention, motivates a lot of consumption and comparison, and puts you in the position to draw subtle distinctions in form within exemplars of a genre. These abilities, it is often noted, are abilities that are themselves central to recognizing genuine Aesthetic Value. We often rely on expert testimony of critics to judge whether or not to go see a movie—perhaps we should also understand each of us as experts of limited kinds about specific genres of art. Far from overvaluing works in the genre you like best, then, you might be best placed to judge their Aesthetic Value.

It’s not obvious to me which of these views is most nearly right. Nor is it clear that these are the only options. But I think it’s worth teasing apart the options available to us when we think about the relationship between taste and Taste.