Do the Windows Open?

the Narrator Of These Highly Original Stories, All Of Which Have Appeared In The New Yorker, Surveys The World With Deadpan Wit And Candor. She's A Photographer Who Has Been Attempting For Three Years To Photograph A World-renowned Reproductive Surgeon/comedian Who Can't Sit Still Long Enough For His Picture To Be Taken. Her Other Projects Include Photographing Anne Sexton's Childhood Home And Walden Pond. Along The Way She Keeps Searching For Some Sign Of Sanity And Order Amid The Mediocrity, Waste, Pointlessness, Vulgarity, Junk Food, And Tv Programs Of Contemporary America. She's An Astute Observer Of Modern Life's Strange Complexities - Windows That Don't Open, The Footwear Of Endodontists, And Husbands Who Don't Talk - And At The Same Time She's Hilariously And Poignantly Caught Up In Them. The Decline Of Our Culture And Everyday Decency Are Brought Into Sharp Focus By This Unique, Besieged Sensibility, As Is The Beauty Of Vegetarianism, The Use Of Mozart For Transcending Root-canal Therapy, And The Heartache Of Floor Refinishing And Fluorescent Lighting. In Do The Windows Open? Julie Hecht, With Her Distinctive Voice And Wry Humor, Has Given Us A Tragi-comedy Of Missed Connections And Opportunities, Vividly Illuminating The Way We Live Now.

publishers Weekly

it's Surprising That Hecht, A Longtime Contributor To The New Yorker And A Winner Of The O. Henry Prize, Hasn't Published A Book Before This. These Nine Stories Are All Narrated By The Same Bracingly Neurotic Heroine, A 40-ish Photographer Named Isabelle Who Has A Lot To Say On Virtually Everything From The Intricacies Of Macrobiotic Cooking To Whether Or Not Her Optician Is Or Was A Nazi, The Son Of Nazis, A Neo-nazi Or, At The Very Least, A Nazi Sympathizer. When She's Not Working On Her Idiosyncratic Photo-essays (flowers In Decline, Reproductive Surgeons And Their Dogs), Isabelle Spends An Inordinate Amount Of Time Chasing Down Objects Essential For Her Daily Life, Like Organic Vegetables And Reversible Alpaca Coats From England. Meanwhile, She Keeps Up A Barrage Of Exceedingly Manic Diatribes On Such Pressing Subjects As The Greenhouse Effect, The Passage Of Time And How Annoying Swedish People Can Be-all Expressed In Borderline Hysterical, Impeccably Crisp Diction, Like Miss Manners With The Wrong Prescription. The Best Of These Stories Are Hilariously Funny, Filled With The Horrors Of Modern Life (bad Architecture, Traffic Jams, The Smell Of Peanuts On The Bus) And Wacky Exchanges With Her Loudmouthed Reproductive Surgeon, Dr. Loquesto, Her Careless Floor Sander, The Guy At The Discount Drugs Or Her Neighbors In Nantucket And East Hampton. Some Of The Stories May Remind The Reader Of A Long Phone Conversation With A Batty, Obsessed Neighbor Who Doesn't Know When To Hang Up. You May Breathe A Little Sigh Of Relief When They're Over-but Then Again, Her Point Of View Is So Entertaining, You Can't Wait For Her To Call Back. (jan.)