This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here.

In the early 1950s, “Hi-Proteen” powder, one of the first modern protein supplements, hit the market. Initially, it tasted awful. But after its creator, Bob Hoffman, added in Hershey’s chocolate, the flavor improved. (He used a canoe paddle to stir his mixture in a giant vat.) Protein products have come a long way since then. Perhaps, they have come too far: Last weekend, at the gym, I was offered a can of lemon-flavored “protein ice tea.

This is an edition of the Books Briefing, our editors’ weekly guide to the best in books. Sign up for it here.
For many people in their early 20s, graduating from college is both a significant milestone—perhaps the most important of their young life—and a rupture that leaves them utterly unmoored. (It has been this way for a long time; just ask Dustin Hoffman on that pool float.

Modern dating, experts have lamented, has become a numbers game; the more matches you make, the more likely you are to land a mate. But in the new film Materialists, the only number that really matters is a suitor’s net worth. Take Harry (played by Pedro Pascal), for example: He’s a partner in a private-equity firm and the owner of a $12 million penthouse apartment in Manhattan.

The often-cited statistic that 50 percent of American marriages end in divorce has long been overstated: The divorce rate started sliding from its historical peak way back in 1980. But the myth of the modern marriage being doomed to fail endures because it was seared into the cultural consciousness—like so much else—by Baby Boomers.