It’s been said that if there are raised letters on the jacket cover and the pages have a ragged, hand-cut look, the book’s important. Of course, that doesn’t mean it is, but in the case of Anita Shreve’s new novel, The Stars are Fire , her 18th, the signaling design proves correct. Shreve, who came to fame with The Weight of Water and an Oprah selection, The Pilot’s Wife , both made into movies, has crafted in The Stars are Fire a moving, suspenseful, delicately erotic, landscape-harsh tale of endurance and love in the wake of a natural catastrophe. The catastrophe was real. In October 1947, “The Year Maine Burned,” the papers called it, a quarter of a million acres of forest and nine entire towns of homes and seasonal cottages were wiped out, leaving thousands of people homeless, many of them injured psychologically as well as physically. Shreve, who once taught high school English, takes the title of her book from a line in Hamlet about doubting the strength of love. Hamlet has