While exploring the archives of Mr. Beller’s Neighborhood, I stumbled upon three lovely stories all written before I was even conceived. 

In the first story, The Doormen Watching Over Me, the writer Meredith Boylan describes her relationship with her doormen in Tudor City. 

When I was younger and fantasized about one day living in New York, I had a specific image of a place like Tudor City, chock full of large old buildings surrounded by parks and waves of sophistication. And certainly, doormen fit into my vision. My family now lives in a walk-up in New York, and every day I can see how those of us who lack common sense and independence could use a doorman in their building. 

Boylan’s story is about the search for authority and the dangers of free choice. You want someone to guide you and tell you where you are going wrong, even if the figure is “just” your doorman. The story reads like it could be a plotline of a great “Sex and The City” episode.

The second story is really two connected ones, aptly titled New York Orientation Part 1 and New York Orientation Part 2. Writer Greg Purcell documents his adjustment to New York City, including his failure to find employment. Sometimes I think that if personal essayists were totally honest, their essays should all be released as part of a single series because each one builds, in one way or another, on those that came before to construct a narrative of the writer’s life. In Greg Purcell’s case, I wish that he didn’t stop at Part 2 and that he had a narrative that spanned thousands of parts. His voice is vivid and hilarious and relatable. He takes the odd topics of conversation that I find the most interesting and uses them for his own brilliant purposes (for example, how the motion of Mars affects our dreams). 

In Part 2, he dissects that awful occurrence of when you find a job that is perfect for you, but you aren’t perfect for the job. This summer, I am hitting new numbers on getting rejected from various minimum wage jobs across the city. Considering it’s been nearly a quarter century since these stories by Purcell were published, I hope that he has found some work by now. However, on the off chance that he hasn’t, and you want to hire him, he’s got that covered too by including his email at the bottom of the second (and for now final) part in his job-hunting saga. 

The third story is short and magical and by a writer whose name you might recognize, Sam Lipsyte. In The Fracas at Washington Square Park, Lipsyte participates in a protest against the Iraq War. Incredibly, Lipsyte avoids getting sucked into it all. Throughout the piece, he dissects different aspects of the protest. For example, he questions the chant “you work for us.”  It’s something I’d never thought to question in my life, but in just five sentences Lipsyte gets me to not just care about the phrase but to actively dislike it. This final piece feels particularly pertinent as people are protesting now. Be Sam Lipsyte. Take political action but be on guard. Do not let anything questionable slip through just because people happen to largely agree with you politically. Also, in case my description of the piece has led you to think that it’s didactic: it isn’t. It is just as funny as the others I have mentioned. Lipsyte’s dry humor shines through in all the right cracks, and by the right cracks, I mean pretty much every other word. The piece’s final line in particular really got to me, and I’ll be thinking about it for a while. 

I have much more to say, but I don’t want to spoil these pieces for you. Read them and enjoy them. Afterwards, I think you’ll agree that my walk through Mr. Beller’s Neighborhood proved fruitful, and it might inspire you to take a stroll of your own.

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Henry Kaplan is a student at Wesleyan University and writes for the student newspaper, The Argus, which is published twice a week during the school year. This summer he is living in New York.