Doubleday, 336 pp., $27.50
Toward the end of the Second World War a young British officer was posted to Washington where he rented a room in the house of a maiden lady. The lady was an astrologer and she obligingly cast not only his horoscope but that of his brother. 'Don't blame me,' he wrote his brother, 'if you are frightened by its uncanny accuracy.' The horoscope read as follows:
Review, 5126 words
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