Kafka is not exactly known for writing light-hearted fiction, and this superb little museum is built to match that mood. Visitors walk through lengthy, dark corridors with exhibits of letters, photos, and other documents (it is clearly stated that they are facsimiles, so, no, they are not originals, and no attempt is made to convince visitors otherwise) that serve to contextualizing Kafka. In a city that seems to encourage entrepreneurs to open up shady, overpriced, and disappointing museums in any spare room they may have available in their apartments, this experience came as a most welcome surprise. We were, however, initially suspicious about the place due to the fact that we were “greeted” by a rather unpleasant employee at the reception desk; we prefer to assume that her vacant and disagreeable manner was an act to make our visit more Kafkaesque.