A NEW DEMON FOR EACH GENERATION
sang Bob Dylan in 1963, in post-Bay of Pigs euphoria last time the world was forced to consider mortality as closely as it’s been doing over recent months. It was certainly the rallying cry for my generation, when we grew our hair long, poured bleach on our jeans, and generally thought if we put flowers in our hair and lay in the long grass staring at Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, we might change the world for the
