Martha's Vineyard Holly Nadler

A Room of Their Own, Vineyard Retreats Helps Writers Develop

Holly Nadler | Thursday, May 9 2013 - 2:21pm

They come from all over the country, staying for one or two weeks or up to a full month. They explore Edgartown from their home base at the former Point Way Inn. Some of them work in their rooms, others find a nesting spot in one of the many elegant downstairs parlors. For dinner they might bring home scallops from the Net Result, ingredients for a pasta Siciliana, and share the meal pot-luck style in the formal dining room, which is two stories high and lit up like a stage set.

Noepe Center for Literary Arts

Canine Consigliere Tom Shelby Does Search and Rescue Service

Holly Nadler

Mark Twain once said, “If dogs could talk, no one would own one.” Tom Shelby, a lifelong dog trainer with a specialty in search and rescue dogs, chuckles at Mr. Twain’s quote. Mr. Shelby understands canine thinking better than anyone, and still loves them.

“If we could even grasp a dog’s sense of smell, we would realize how dramatically different they are from us,” Mr. Shelby explained. With the exception of the crushed-faced breeds such as pugs, most dogs are able to sniff a cadaver located 90 feet under water.

Larry Mollin 02568: The Story So Far

Holly Nadler

By HOLLY NADLER

A trademark of the boomer generation is that we never follow a straight line for a career path. It looks more like a privet hedge labyrinth in old English country gardens.

Vineyard House Tests the Waters

Holly Nadler

It’s arguably the loveliest event in the summer season. For 14 years now, Vineyard House, the only substance abuse safe haven on the Island, holds a fundraiser consisting of “designer” waters to sip and sumptuous food to eat provided by Tea Lane Caterers. The venue is always breathtaking, but this one may be the topper — the Allen Farm in Chilmark, where sweeping views over sheep-shorn fields give over to the sparkling expanse of the Atlantic Ocean.

Before Streetcar Came These Desires

Holly Nadler

Tennessee Williams (1911-1983) was born in Columbus, Mississippi, with all the proper psychological accoutrements to become a great writer. His family was abysmally dysfunctional, his mother a narcissist with a streak of snobbery, denial and grandiosity (much like the mother in The Glass Menagerie), and his father an often-absent, smalltime businessman with a temper, active fists and an aversion to his delicate son, who, as we all know, was destined to grow up to be a homosexual, a tough row to hoe in the deep South.