Stars and Gripes
By MARY HOLLAND
A FRIEND of mine was approached in a Hamp- stead pub recently by a Of course, Hitler consulted an astrologer and so does Mrs. Bandaranaike, and let's hope she fares better than he did. Let's hope we all do. come to that, or, rather, the growing number who compulsively turn to the stars first in any magazine we happen to pick up. There are more of us than you might think, at least to judge by a random sample of about 1 twenty of the adult population questioned over the last couple of days, only two of whom said they didn't read the stars.
The editor of one popular women's magazine told me recently that there was only one con- tributor she would tight tooth and nail to keep from going to a rival: 'the astrologer; I know what sells this mag.' And a rather down-to- earth fiend, reporting on the progress of a new job the other day, said she had been feeling just great about it until she read her stars in the Queen, which predicted that Neptune was just about to shove some obstacles in her way which 'would prove stubborn and unresolved until after the end of July.' But then, Celeste in the Queen has a view of life which can only be described as direly realistic. I'm told that my birth sign is the same as that of Celeste herself, which may explain why the news from the heavens has been so appalling lately. Sample star readings over the past few weeks have been : 'Home conditions are likely to be confused and unsettled with no remedy in sight.' After the events of last week you probably have much repair work to do. Some of these problems may be pSst repairing. Last fortnight was the most comprehensively discouraging I can remember: 'If you are travelling, you may expect delays and frustra- tions at every turn. If you are at home, the same will be more or less true, though of a different nature.'
This is unnervingly different from the star columns of my youth, which were always vague enough to fit and uniformly encouraging. These still exist, of course, mainly in the mass-circula- tion women's weeklies. For example, while Celeste was glooming on about frustrations at every turn, Leon Petulengro in Woman predicted a time 'full of promise with an easing of re- sponsibility for you. Good news for lovers. More support for plans.' But the most-sought-after star columnists now all seem to lean towards the brutal, which perhaps just reflects an increas- ingly 'cynical pessimism in their readers.
In Elle, which tends to lead where the women's magazines of most other countries sooner or later follow, Francesca Waldner charts his pre- dictions for each sign of the Zodiac under four headings: Strictly Personal, Heart, Health. Social Life. These are stuffed not only with singu- larly cheerless prognostications, but with strictly disciplinarian advice on how to cope with the pitfalls that will loom. Health is particularly full of admonition : 'Mistrust contagious people. Look to your chest.' Your nerves are going to Provoke insomnia.' Control your nerves. Lead a regular life. Smoke less.'
But the tone everywhere is pretty authori- tarian. 'Control your irritability,' he urges Sagittarius. 'If you identify with others every- thing will be easy.' Aquarius is briskly told, `Don't gossip and don't nourish rancour.' Pisces is advised that 'a good book will restore equilibrium.' Elsewhere there is implied a most damning pen portrait of a reader's character in the words, 'Your critical spirit irritates. Be more faithful and stop making promises you don't know how to keep.'
As Elle and Mr. Waldner recognise with all this advice about human relationships, at least half the reason why people read the stars is not to find out about their own behaviour patterns, which always seem predictable enough, but to get some kind of independent, irrelevant clue about the all-too-wayward reactions of their friends and lovers. Geared exclusively to this need is a new paperback, How to Win Your Man by the Stars —and Keep Him (Corgi Books, 4s.), which pro- vides a star-guided, blow-by-blow account of how to meet every situation from the man's first pass to telling him you're pregnant--by way of the altar, the honeymoon and evenings out to- gether 'slimming by the stars.' Even here, amid all the giddy chat about 'facing the challenge of your stars,' the new brutalism is evident. Sonic men are dismissed out of hand as lousy risks, others will bring poverty, or instability, or 'spiritual emptiness' to marriage. Saddest of all, the book ends with the question, 'Are You Slipping?', and seems to take it pretty much for granted that you will, and that the stars can't do much about it. Except, perhaps, give you the comfort of dealing beautifully with your children's star-ridden temperaments, always sup- posing that they don't know more about the planets than you. Like the twelve-year-old who witheringly replied to her mother's rebukes that she never finished anything she started with the words, 'Well, I'm Gemini, aren't 1? What else do you expect?'
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