Welcome to the Archives

This way. You think: he keeps saying, this way. Would you follow me otherwise?

Make a study of that, sir.

Interesting procedures here. We don’t bring the files to you, we bring you to the files. That may have been the first director’s dictate or the second’s. All part of the experience. Like visiting a tomb. We let the dead rest. The living do all the work.

The tomb is an illusion. Just different floors and a multitude of aisles. The coolness is necessary, of course. The rest, I’m sure, might have been structured any number of ways. People get the sense of traveling underground, of a passage through that other world.

Adds to the experience I’d say. Especially for you, with your interest in Kafka’s younger brother.

Brothers. Yes.

Light the color of parchment. Not an accident. Not an accident at all.

This way.

You’re not the first, as I’m sure you know. Quite a history. George and Heinrich. People want to know.

You are familiar with Bestenbostel’s 1951? I apologize for asking. Of course.

Simms, 1958. I liked the Simms.

But the Strasse, 1978. The definitive.

But you. Redefining the definitive. Pushing the envelope, as they say. I suppose we must. I wish you the best of luck.

Isn’t it marvelous? The narrowness of the aisles. The closeness. Not exactly catacombic. But boxes stacked on shelves, like bricks in a wall. Almost suffocating, if not for the temperature. The coolness a necessity, of course.

Light the color of parchment. A stroke of genius to my mind.

I’m going to take the liberty — if it’s forward, then it’s forward — but I’m going to take the liberty of, well, hopefully piquing your interest. Not far beyond, a little beyond since Ks consume three floors, but not too far beyond, I was hoping I could interest you in Kierkegaard’s younger brother.

Well, well. Well, of course. I see the look. And yes, yes, yes, I’m quite aware. Kierkegaard didn’t have a younger brother.

Doesn’t mean there haven’t been studies, that there doesn’t exist a significant amount of material concerning him. Kierkegaard’s younger brother.

You’d be surprised. No, impressed. Quite a bit of study. But none of it groomed into a work. A lot of research. But always dropped. Never goes far.

You see, I bring a visitor to the Kafka section every other day. And at least once a week or so, someone is brought to paw through the records on his younger brothers. No reflection on you and your endeavors, of course. But they were just babies; they died so young. So much devotion to the two lads and so little to Kierkegaard’s baby sibling.

No, I disagree. I don’t believe it matters that he never existed. What if he had? You see? What if he had?

Naturally, it doesn’t lend itself to normal scholarly work. The objective approach would fail you. No, a good dose of faith would be required.

You look doubtful. Of course. But I wonder. I do.

Here we are. We’ll have to fetch you a ladder. Everything you’ll want is here. George and Heinrich. All the way down to…well, you’ll see.

Are you certain about the Kierkegaard? I shouldn’t press you, as you are a guest; but, you see, it’s something I’ve always wondered about.

I’ve always tried to imagine.

What it would have been like, how it would have felt.

It’s the question I want to ask everyone.

How would you like to be Kierkegaard’s younger brother?