The Logic of Snobbery

Until 2001, Jonathan Franzen was an emerging American novelist with two books to his name. Following the release of his best-selling novel, The Corrections, Franzen became a famous American novelist with renewed intellectual and cultural clout. The Corrections won critical acclaim, earning its author the National Book Award and a seat in the pantheon of postmodern American literature. Then, in October of that year, Franzen unwittingly courted notoriety by snubbing Oprah Winfrey. After The Corrections had been selected to appear in Oprah’s Book Club – a dubious honor, but one which would surely have expanded his readership – Franzen rejected the offer, fearing the aesthetic integrity of the book would be jeopardized by a corporate imprimatur. Humiliated, Oprah publicly withdrew her offer, and Franzen was subjected to criticism for his apparent snobbery, pretension, and lack of gratitude. One thing was certain: no one snubs Oprah and gets away with it. However, the controversy brought Franzen instant publicity, and his novel saw a dramatic boost in sales.

What seemed like mere arrogance on Franzen’s part, Sean Latham would likely attribute to the more complicated logic of snobbery. According to Latham, snobbery is a byproduct of the commodification of culture, and was exemplified by modernist writers, as well as consumers, in an attitude of arch contempt. In his book, “Am I a Snob?” (2003) Latham claims, “Snobbery evolved in the late nineteenth and early twentieth-century as a historical and narrative strategy for negotiating literature’s place in a mass-mediated and highly segmented cultural marketplace.” Amid the decline of aristocratic hierarchies and the growth of middle-class power, the literary market was deluged with large numbers of new readers. Before long, cultural goods were transformed into icons of social prestige and economic success. Anyone could be an aristocrat with the proper learning; anyone could counterfeit sophistication. For intellectuals, however, the thought that the entire artistic enterprise could be commercialized, that the signs of authentic and artificial cultural capital could become nearly indistinguishable, was unnerving. In response, writers became more obscure and more élitist, contributing ultimately to Modernism’s defining gesture: to isolate aesthetic value and innovation from the broader marketplace.

Latham’s book is a careful examination of the figure of the snob as it appears in literary and historical contexts from the mid-nineteenth century to around 1930. As originally conceived, the word “snob” referred to a lowly social climber who rather poorly mimicked the tastes and fashions of the upper classes. It was not until 1848, however, with the publication of William Thackeray’s The Book of Snobs, that this figure would pose a threat to the Victorian moral universe. Using social masquerade to his advantage, the snob became a master of taste, a refined bourgeoisie able to interpret and manipulate the signs of social distinction. With this new-found acumen, the snob could circulate freely among the British upper classes, challenging the ancient aristocratic codes of bloodline and tradition. Alas, how was one to distinguish a true gentleman from a poseur? What Thackeray revealed was that “in a mass-mediated cultural marketplace, modern social power derives neither from the ideologically structured interiority of the gentleman nor the snobbish preservation of class boundaries,” but from a command of the fluid signs of social and cultural distinction. In short, the aristocracy was becoming an open institution.