Did the 1960s Really Happen? (Part One)
Last year I read three books that challenged the mainstream view of the 1960s.
(Herewith I'm employing the folk definition of "The Sixties" as that stretch between the Kennedy assassination in November 1963 and the May 1975 fall of Saigon.)
I say "mainstream" because I haven't entertained many illusions about what really happened during that overlong Baby Boomer idyl since I was a kid.
In the first place, I grew up "soaking in it," in the dishwashing liquid commercial catchphrase of the era, and I hated almost every minute.
In the second, as an adult, I discerned certain disruptions in the official "peace and love" narrative.
Being a bratty pest by temperament, I've made a minor career out of helping debunking the myth of the selfless hippie, the noble white liberal, the enlightened radical, the powerless housewife and the era's other stock characters.
(I'm also rather fond of rehabilitating the laughingstocks of the age.)
This year, I read three books that, to various degrees, reinforced my view that what we call The Sixties -- an allegedly Edenic era that canny progressives continue to evoke when crafting 21st century policy -- was a Potemkin village of the imagination, or, in the words of the narrator below, "a mass hallucination":