Has your computer stopped working? It’s probably Mercury retrograde’s fault. Is it going wrong with your partner? Surely it is because you are incompatible signs. Do people around you complain about your bad character? Blame your ascendant. Liv Strömquist, one of the most popular and revered comic book authors, is back with another of her sharp and funny graphic essays, this time dedicated to astrology. I have no doubt that the Swedish author has greatly enjoyed making this comic, because the subject is very sweet, but the result, although undoubtedly entertaining, is far from the scathing depth of the works that have preceded it, “I do not feel anything” (Reservoir Books, 19) y “The hall of mirrors” (Reservoir Books, 22).
Strömquist has dedicated most of the book to dissecting the twelve zodiac signs, recreating himself in each of them and dressing everything with a lot of sauce, thanks to that miscellany of such disparate and diverse characters that parade through its pages, from historical figures to influencers, going through artists, intellectuals and the occasional athlete. Thus, we find ourselves with Tolkien, a first-class rigid Capricorn, or with Beyoncé, an indisputable example of a bored Virgo, or with the poet Hölderin, paradigm of the lovesick Pisces. Strömquist makes use of each one of them to exemplify each sign and justify their behavior, which on countless occasions borders on eccentricity and absurdity, leaving little room for free will. If the stars guide your destiny, why bother? Obviously, Strömquist has not missed the opportunity to dedicate an entire chapter to love relationships, the crux of the matter, the main reason why many people secretly consult their horoscope, explaining which signs are compatible and which, NEVER, should even touch.
It is in the final stretch of the book where Strömquist pulls out the heavy artillery and tries to explain the reasons why astrology, lacking any scientific basis, continues to generate interest today. And for that he invokes a heavyweight, Adorno, who from sociology raised very interesting questions about how astrology is located in today’s society. Strömquist finally presents various explanations and leaves us to draw our own conclusions, leaving his position on the subject ambiguous and inviting us to choose our own.
Despite the fact that Strömquist has not achieved the result of his previous titles, in “light astrology” there is no lack of that intelligent, acid and humorous look that has elevated her as one of the most original authors on the current scene. I think the translation of the original title is very accurate, achieving a curious play on words with the adjective “light”, which refers both to the author’s first name, Liv, and to something inconstant, light, of little weight. It is evident that Strömquist has had a great time acting as our private astrologer and that, in the end, is what matters.