The Unprofessionals by Julie Hecht

I had to learn that men were a kind of non-human species; they were like beings from outer space who needed a form of simple communication.
-- Julie Hecht, The Unprofessionals (Random House, 2003).

I've followed Hecht in Harper's and The New Yorker since her stories started appearing in the 1970's.  There is no question that she is a unique voice, observant and funny, sometimes cynical and misanthropic, often at odds with the modern world.  A little bit of her can go a long way, so it has taken me a while to read her novel, which turns out to be chapters that can stand on their own as short stories, tied together by the narrator's long relationship with a heroin addict.

Hecht's narrator seems to put more emphasis on what she doesn't like than what she does like, but I found in reading her novel that there is a great deal her narrator likes, even if much of it is disappearing, for reasons ranging from death to unprofessionalism, She seems to like Xanax, David Letterman (Hecht wrote a moving tribute to him when he retired from his late-night show), Elvis Presley, classical film (especially The Stranger, Shadow of a Doubt and The Red Shoes), some literature (especially Joseph Heller and Bruce Jay Friedman), Dr. Andrew Weil (the narrator is vegan), Armani jackets, buckwheat-hull pillows, et al.

The narrator's dislikes seem to be stronger than her likes, however, possibly because there is so much that is accepted uncritically in the contemporary world, including CNN, barking dogs, talc, filthy supermarkets, cable TV (the required box is ugly), the subway (for the noise alone), cordless phones, socializing (people all say the same thing), book clubs, marble rye, et al.

The Unprofessionals is sometimes quite funny but also rather tragic, as her addicted friend, who shared many of her cynical views, kills himself after numerous attempts at rehab. Only with this tragic end does the narrator realize how kind her friend had been, even if he had always remained a stranger.