I didn’t expect to be impressed by Budapest when I visited after visiting my dream destination Vienna. But I was stunned by the Hungarian capital, a city famous for its grand architecture, neo-Gothic spires, Art nouveau façades and stately expanses of the Danube, as well as its many thermal baths.
But what stayed with me was to see a different Budapest away from the obvious sights, an underrated European capital tied to a fierce literary tradition built quietly in libraries, cafés and independent bookstores.
Unlike Paris or Edinburgh, which showcase their literary wealth, the city’s literary wealth comes to light gradually. There is no “must see” list here, just a slow exploration of a metropolis where literature has influenced national identity, defied governments, and offered security during turbulent times.
A literary tour through Budapest begins with its independent bookstores, many of which have survived political changes, censorship battles, and economic turmoil. Massolit Books & Café, a warm, unpretentious spot, is located on a quiet street in the Jewish Quarter. The name refers to the fictional literary organization in Mikhail Bulgakov’s novel, master and margaritaA reminder that literature has always flourished amidst humor and subversion in Budapest.
The collection ranges widely from pulp fiction and biographies to histories, classics, and English translations of Hungarian literary greats, including Ferenc Molnár, Sándor Marai, Magda Szabó, Peter Nadas, and László Krasznahorkai. In the warmer months, a simple outdoor section opens up at the back of the shop, extending the browsing experience into the sunshine.
Inside Massolit, there is plenty of conversation among the tables where students, travelers and retirees learn about Hungarian fiction, Central European history and contemporary poetry. “People don’t come here just to buy books,” says Andras, a longtime bookseller. “They come for the sense of community. Literature feels alive when people talk about it.”
The shop’s book corner leaning to the left, its generous section of translated Hungarian writings, and its courtyard surrounded by plants give it the feeling of a refuge. Rebecca Davies, visiting from London, puts it simply as Magda Szabo reads Door: “Budapest’s bookshops remind you to slow down.”
Lira is a short walk away by tram. It may be one of Hungary’s leading bookselling chains, but its flagship stores retain the charm of neighborhood bookstores. Lira features articles from both Hungarian and international authors as well as a useful English section, a boon for travelers trying to navigate names like Marai and Krasznahorkai. The staff is ready with recommendations: contemporary fiction, obscure Eastern European translations, or children’s titles based on the folkloric foundation of Hungarian fantasy.
As well as being retail shops, bookstores in Budapest are storehouses of conversation. In a city where writers have historically been public figures, shaping debate and at times opposing governments, it is not surprising that bookshops still feel full of purpose.
If bookstores reveal Budapest’s vibrant literary culture, its libraries reveal its depth. The best expression of this is the Széchenyi National Library, located inside Buda Castle. Established in 1802, it houses millions of documents, including valuable codices, maps, rare manuscripts and early Hungarian prints.
The handsome, old-world reading room features high ceilings, arched windows and dark wood tables. Scholars are often seen drawing on materials from Hungary’s turbulent past: the Ottoman occupation, the Habsburg Empire, the Revolution of 1848, the wartime resistance movement. Indeed, the library shows how deeply literature and nationalism are linked in the Hungarian consciousness.
The Erwin Szabo Metropolitan Library, hidden inside a former neo-Baroque palace once owned by the Wickenheim aristocrats, is equally fascinating. This statuesque building, with ornate ceilings, carved fireplaces, grand staircase and glittering chandeliers, is a modern public library inside. Students relax on antique furniture; Tourists come in quietly, stunned by the opulence; Book clubs gather in golden rooms that seem more like museum salons than communal reading spaces. Despite being stately and grand, the Erwin Szabo Library is distinctly democratic because it makes literature accessible to all.
Over the next few days, I learned that cafes in Budapest are not just places to have a cup of coffee; They perform double duty as cultural institutions. Before World War II, the city was home to hundreds of people, buzzing with playwrights, journalists, editors, and political thinkers. Some smoky and bohemian, others elegant and heavy chandeliers; All crucibles of conversation.
Today, the most famous survivor of this golden age is the New York Café, widely known as “the most beautiful café in the world”. Located inside the Anantara New York Palace Hotel, the New York Café welcomes approximately 2,500 visitors daily. I find queues well in advance of opening time, snaking past gleaming marble columns and gold-leaf arches beneath frescoed ceilings. Instagram may have made it a global hotspot, but it was the heartbeat of Budapest’s literary scene long before it became a backdrop for influencers.
“The New York Café is much more than a coffeehouse,” says Gábor Folds, the hotel’s PR and marketing manager. “This is the starting point of Hungarian modern literature.”
This is not an exaggeration. It was here, on a table under a sky of painted metaphors, that the influential literary magazine Neugat was born. The magazine gave rise to a modernist movement that redefined Hungarian literature in the early 20th century. Writers such as Ferenc Molnár and Dzszko Kosztolany were regulars, and a famous legend has it that on the night of the opening, Molnár and his friends were so charmed by the café’s beauty that they threw the key into the Danube to ensure that the café would never close.
Foldes and his team now see their role as custodians of that legacy. “We make a conscious effort to keep the artistic and literary spirit of the café alive by welcoming school groups to literature lessons held here in the historic space. This allows students to step into a period they would normally only read about.”
The café’s high ceilings, velvet curtains and gleaming brass lamps mesmerize visitors. The grandeur may be overwhelming but it shows me the cultural history of this gorgeous place, reminding me that ideas were once debated and shaped over cups of strong Hungarian coffee.
Part of the charm of Budapest is its walkability. A literary tour can begin in the Jewish Quarter, where Massolit anchors a neighborhood filled with bars, synagogues and small art galleries, and continue toward the grand Andrássy Avenue. Along the way, you pass plaques dedicated to writers, antiquarian bookshops and lively cafés,
The pace of the city changes upon crossing the Danube and entering Buda. The Castle District, with its cobbled streets and pastel facades, has quiet squares, small stationery shops and stunning panoramas. The view of the Fisherman’s Bastion in the evening and the Parliament standing across the river is a setting that forces even ordinary readers to think metaphorically.
Landmark lovers will enjoy visiting the Petofi Literary Museum, which offers information about the revolutionary poet Sándor Petofi, whose verses helped ignite the Uprising of 1848; And pay homage to the statue of Attila József, one of Hungary’s greatest poets, who can be found sitting contemplative on the banks of the Danube.
Landmarks are ubiquitous if you look for them, but the most memorable literary experiences in Budapest are often found unexpectedly: in a courtyard where writers once met in secret, in a stunning café where the views were as grand as a Belle Epoque design, or in the sad notes of a folk musician on a bridge.
M. John Harrison, the English writer of fantasy and science fiction, certainly knows what he’s talking about: “Budapest is a prime site for dreams: the East’s exuberant vision of the West, the West’s uneasy hallucination of the East. It is a dream city; a city almost entirely fake; a city invented out of other cities, out of Paris by way of Vienna.”
Teja Lele is a freelance editor and writes on books, travel and lifestyle.
