The Worst Astrologer in the World

A recently divorced freelance writer is asked to help shut down the practice of an astrologer who has had a stroke. Instead of cancelling the remaining clients, he finds he can't bring himself to cancel a grieving widow mid-transit — and gradually, mentored over the phone from a rehab facility, starts reading charts himself. What follows is a novel that teaches real, professional-level Western tropical astrology through the story of someone learning it: badly, then less badly, then well enough to be dangerous.

Every technique in the book is accurate. Every client is a composite. The protagonist's hit rate is logged at the end, unedited, and the results are interesting enough to include and ambiguous enough to guarantee that neither he nor his data-scientist best friend won the argument.