Some literature lovers are obsessed with author’s graves. The Dutch author Cees Nooteboom published a book about author’s graves titled Graves of Poets and Thinkers. It consists of text by Nooteboom and photos by his significant other, Simone Sassen. I recommend this book, especially to fellow authors. If you’ve ever had the feeling that you’re writing for posterity, this book will give you a healthy sense of modesty.

It’s not so much author’s graves I like, but their museums. Two of my favorites are the Svevo Museum in Trieste and the Maison de Balzac in Paris.

I have to add that I will never forget my guide to the Hemingway Home and Museum in Key West. He walked a thin line between public drunkenness and a great love for the subject of his talk. It wasn’t about the author, but rather the author’s cat and the descendants of this cat.

Then I made it to Agrigento, a small city on the southern coast of Sicily. The novelist and playwright Luigi Pirandello, the 1934 Nobel Laureate in Literature, was born in Agrigento. The house where he grew up has been transformed into a museum.

The museum is a few miles outside the city. At the ticket office a woman, well into her forties, explained to us in highly effective Italian that we should visit Mr. Pirandello’s grave first. It was in the backyard.

There were no other visitors than the two of us that day, neither at his grave nor in the museum.

It was hard to detect the name of Pirandello on the gravestone. We stood there for five minutes in a slight drizzle, enjoying the silence, the view, and even the drizzle.

I’m not an expert on Pirandello, far from it, but I’m an admirer of at least one his novels, One, No One & One Hundred Thousand, about a man who one day is alerted by his wife that his nose tilts: “And my wife said, serenely, ‘Of course, dear. Take a good look. It tilts to the right.”

From that day on, his life will never be the same. He sees the world through his tilted nose.

The Pirandello museum consists of a few paintings by a family member of Mr. Pirandello, a few of Pirandello’s letters behind glass, and some photographs of him.

While looking at his picture on the first floor of the museum, my travel companion said, “Look, his nose tilts to the right.”

“Stop it,” I said. “The next thing you’re going to tell me is that my nose tilts to the right.”

Hastily we left the museum.

Despite this small incident, the Pirandello Museum in Agrigento makes it into my top three author’s museums.