Some more Sagittarian writers of interest

I noticed a while back that a few writers of interest were born at the end of November.  

I found some good connections while I was looking to see what these astrological Sagittarians had in common.

A few more writers whose work I like or at least am familiar with and/or who are of interest for other reasons were born under the sign of Sagittarius – some before the end of November and some in December.

Most of them have been featured or at least mentioned in articles in the past; there may be more to say about a few of them in the future. There may also be some new names to add to the list.

Jane Austen was born on December 16th 1775.
Although her books don't inspire commentary, she has been mentioned on here in a few articles in connection with suspicious deaths. She also appears in articles about tangled webs of connections.

She mentions a witch on one occasion:

“Ah, Mother! How do you do?” said he, giving her a hearty shake of the hand. “Where did you get that quiz of a hat? It makes you look like an old witch...”

From Northanger Abbey

The Reverend Richard Harris Barham was born on December 6th 1788. 
His Ingoldsby Legends, which contain some stories about witches, are praised by Allan Quatermain in Sir Henry Rider Haggard's King Solomon's Mines and its sequel.

Lucy M. Boston was born on December 10th 1892.
She lived to the age of 97. One of her Green Knowe books features the witch Dr. Melanie Powers, who is mentioned in a few places on here, and her autobiography is the subject of an article.

Flying horses, which were mentioned in connection with writers born in late November, appear in The River at Green Knowe.

Frances Hodgson Burnett was born on November 24th 1849.
Her children's classics A Little Princess, The Secret Garden and Little Lord Fauntleroy are her most famous works. They are rather dated but still selling well. She was involved with metaphysical matters; I will investigate this once the people and topics of current interest are finished with.

Rudyard Kipling and the House of Desolation: Part III

Part I describes the abandonment of Rudyard Kipling and his younger sister by their parents. Part II continues the story and ends with his release from what seemed to him like a prison sentence with torture thrown in.

There are still a few questions outstanding and points to be made.

Did Kipling lie about or exaggerate his suffering?

I remember reading somewhere that when Kipling's parents first read the account of his time in Southsea, they tried to get his sister Trix to say that it hadn't been as bad as he said it was. This is what happens in many such cases; people said the same thing to Charlotte Brontë, when actually she had toned down her account of life at the dreadful school.

There is a lot that could be and has been said on this subject. Writers certainly use their imagination to create good stories. For many, what happens in their imagination seems real to them, more real even than what really happened. Some use what happened in real life as just the starting point for building a whole edifice of fiction. Some present occasional incidents as happening frequently and such things as minor criticisms as vicious attacks. This may seem like lying and exaggeration to some people.

However, it is not only a case of what actually happened, but the kind of person it happened to and what the effects were. Some collective-minded, grounded people might be resilient and recover quickly; they might let it all go, put it behind them, forgive and forget and get on with their lives. Others, perhaps more imaginative and sensitive and wide open to subtle energies, may have little insulation or resistance and be permanently affected in the core of their beings. Some people feel everything on an archetypal level; some get bad feelings in overwhelming and concentrated doses, enough for one hundred normal people.

I believe that Rudyard Kipling told the truth about what happened and did not exaggerate the effect it had on him. I also believe that a very different type of boy might have been much less affected and even been treated better. Jane Eyre said much the same thing about herself.