This is how it is in America, where half of all marriages end in divorce. Not that long ago, there was a shame about divorce, but now it's just something that happens usually. People talk of starter marriages, and it's common practice, ala Donald Trump, for young couples about to get married to sign pre-nups," that is, prenuptial agreements, where it is spelled out precisely who gets what after the divorce.

Maybe a big turning point in the culture of divorce was when Ronald Reagan, the champion of "family values," became the first divorced man to become president. In any event, it certainly is a sign of the times that Bill and Hillary Clinton, with their troubled marriage, are cast by their critics as immoral, enemies of traditional American family values.

This seems to me odd, because while it is clear that their marriage is far from perfect, they have simply done what ministers everywhere tell married couples to do: they have stayed together through good times and bad (in the process raising a well-adjusted and intelligent daughter). Meanwhile, a surprising number of their more prominent critics, who claim the moral high ground, have been married two or three times.

We now have specialists in "divorce planning," and magazines and news shows routinely dispense advice about "divorcing smart" and the financial implications of divorce. And there are even magazines with names like "Bride Again," that focus on fashion and tasteful ceremony and party plan ning for women on their second or third time around.

New York has always been ahead of the rest of the country in many ways, and in divorce it is no different. Divorce in the city is up in recent years, a trend that experts attribute both to the new, relaxed attitudes to divorce and to the recent prosperity: People are more likely to divorce when they can afford it. Divorce lawyers advertise their services prominently, and following celebrity divorces is a city-wide pastime, providing a lot of tabloid fodder.

A few days ago a well-known female author wrote a piece in the New York Times that praised di vorce, saying that it was liberating countless people from years and years of unhappiness. There was an avalanche of letters in response, most in agreement, but the one that left the biggest impression on me declared that people who divorce may be saving themselves from unhappiness, but they do this by putting their own happiness ahead of their children's.

One of my best friends still speaks of the divorce, which happened when he was six, and which is why, at age 40, he still sees a psychotherapist weekly. He has spent his entire life blaming his parents for their divorce, but just the other day, he told me, "You know, it's taken me this long to realize that if they hadn't divorced, I probably would have been even more miserable."

A couple weeks back I ran into my friend Lucy. Lucy was waiting for the bus, and I stopped to chat. Our kids had gone to nursery school together, and more than once I went to Lucy's house for parties that she and her husband Larry threw. We realized that we hadn't seen each other for a while, and then she said, quite cheerfully, "You know, Larry and I have separated."

"Oh no," I said, and then I asked, "What about the kids?"

"We're sharing them." And then she told me how Larry had the old apartment, and she had an apartment in northern Manhattan, and how wonderfully spacious it was.

The bus was coming, so it was time to put an end to our conversation. Lucy and Larry, to be sure, had been a mismatched couple. In retrospect, it's not surprising that they would get divorced, but still, when I heard the news, it sounded shocking. Was this happy news? Was it sad? I couldn't help noticing that Lucy, who always had had a put-upon look, looked happy and radiant, and as she moved to board the bus, I found myself calling out to her, "Congratulations? I guess."

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