Charles Murray’s ‘Coming Apart’ doesn’t hold together
Ah, the ’50s. Squeaky-clean, patriotic American men came home to find their pipe and slippers set out by their dutiful and doting wives. Their 2.5 children would be in the “parlor” working hard on today’s batch of homework and making themselves some Ovaltine, labels out. Monday morning brought the grind and Sunday morning brought church. We were, in short, a country made up of Cleavers.