At the Atlantic, Alexis Hauk examines the graves of several American writers:
Writers’ graves can be surprising places to visit. Unlike the luminaries housed at more elegant cemeteries, like Pere Lachaise in Paris (Victor Hugo, Marcel Proust, Oscar Wilde, Gertrude Stein, Richard Wright), many literary stars lie for eternity in simpler, plainer spots around this country, with traditions around how to commemorate them as widely varied as the genres they comprise.
This is of particular interest to me given an essay I am working on now, dealing with a topic on death and writers. (Dorothy Parker’s unsurprisingly witty epitaph is the best: “Excuse my dust.”)