Symbolized by the wavy lines of static across a black-and-white closed-circuit spy camera, the Aquarius Writer is ruled by the planet Uranus, or as ancient Romans knew him: Caelus, God of the embellished biography, Umpire of the unconventional, and Sire of stream-of-consciousness bathroom stall graffiti. These writers are prone to pain in the shins and calves, likely due to wildly leaping from one plot point to the next.

Aquarians are drawn to underworlds: the invisible machinations permeating and manipulating polite society. We can see this in Lewis Carroll’s (January 27, 1832) Alice in Wonderland, when titular Alice chases a white rabbit down a hole to discover a secret kingdom of absurdity. Or, in Jules Verne’s (February 8, 1828) Journey to the Center of the Earth, as Professor Lidenbrock and trusty companion Axel discover a hidden world of dinosaurs and monstrous cryptids deep within an Icelandic volcano. Even in John Grisham’s (February 8, 1955) The Firm, where green-thumbed lawyer Mitch McDeere uncovers the Mafia’s secretly in control of his prestigious law firm. For the Aquarian Writer, great treasures and hideous monsters lurk just beyond the natural world.

As resident weirdos of the literary zodiac, these writers bravely take artistic liberties with reality. In Gertrude Stein’s (February 3, 1874) The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, Stein explores her own life from the imagined perspective of her lifelong partner. While in Gordon Lish’s (February 11, 1934) Dear Mr. Capote, an anonymous serial killer referred to as “Yours Truly” solicits Truman Capote to write his biography, proffering they split proceeds.

Even children’s literature isn’t safe around the Water-Bearers. Whether in Judy Blume’s (February 12, 1938) Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret, as teenage Margaret walks us through anxieties of religion, puberty, and dating, or in Laura Ingalls Wilder’s (February 7, 1867) Little House on the Prairie, where the Ingalls clan faces threats of malaria and political tensions.

Associated with the Eleventh house of the Zodiac, Aquarians are most defined by their social circles: a trait that makes them natural politicians.

In Ayn Rand’s (February 2, 1905) Atlas Shrugged, enigmatic John Galt is gathering the best and brightest minds toward a new civilization where they won’t be constrained by government bureaucracy. Or Sinclair Lewis’s (February 7, 1885) It Can’t Happen Here, a satirical warning about President “Buzz” Windrip conning his way to the Whitehouse and quickly consolidating power and establishing himself as America’s Mussolini. While in Alice Walker’s (February 9, 1944) The Color Purple, Celie works to reclaim her destiny and empower her loved ones after being born into oppressive systems of race, gender and sexuality.

Ultimately, these writers are concerned with revolutions, social restructuring, and disruptions in conventional thinking. They are constantly reinventing the way in which we read.

In Virginia Woolf’s (January 25, 1882) The Waves, where six characters cryptically revisit their whole lives, their connections and their impact on public life. Or, in James Joyce’s (February 2, 1882) Finnegan’s Wake, as titular Finnegan dies, resurrects, and is then politely buried alive by his mourners, not wanting to waste a perfectly good casket. While in William S. Burroughs’s (February 5, 1914) Naked Lunch, Will Lee undermines the Liquefactionists, a group determined to meld society into one amorphous, entity, effectively neutering their individualism.

These three Aquarian novels just so happen to be some of the so-called hardest books to read due to their experimental prose.

These airy writers naturally know which way the wind blows. As harbingers of a dark future yet to come, Aquarian fears naturally manifest as ghosts. Whether in Charles Dickens’ (February 7, 1812) A Christmas Carol, where Ebenezer Scrooge is haunted by the spirits of his former colleagues who attempt to steer him from damnation, or, in Toni Morrison’s (February 18, 1931) Beloved, as Sethe and her daughter Denver deal with a malevolent ghost in their Cincinnati home, and the specter of their former plantation lives.

The Aquarius Writer has all the arcane symbolism and obfuscations to pen the next great tale of underground existentialism, if only they can drop out of that senate race, stop chasing white rabbits, and quit making space for grudgeful spirits, they’ll perhaps find the treasures hiding just out of reach of the waking world.

Notable Mentions
Francis Bacon, January 22, 1561
Horace Greeley, February 3, 1811
Frederick Douglass, February 14, 1818
Kate Chopin, February 8, 1851
Anton Chekov, January 29, 1860
Edith Wharton, January 24, 1862
Zane Grey, January 31, 1872
Somerset Maugham, January 25, 1874
Langston Hughes, February 1, 1902
Norman Mailer, January 31, 1923
Gay Talese, February 7, 1932
Audre Lorde, February 18, 1934
Jane Yolen, February 9, 1939
J.M. Coetzee, February 9, 1940
Joy Williams, February 11, 1944
Carl Bernstein, February 14, 1944

By F R Oliver