Preserving the work of a dear friend: Making Hilary Sloin’s acquaintance on the page

Hilary Sloin was a creative juggernaut who struggled with psychological, economic, and other difficulties, yet created a treasure trove of short stories and essays. Following her 2019 death by suicide, some of Sloin’s work was collated by close friends and recently published as “The Cure for Unhappiness.”

Hilary Sloin was a creative juggernaut who struggled with psychological, economic, and other difficulties, yet created a treasure trove of short stories and essays. Following her 2019 death by suicide, some of Sloin’s work was collated by close friends and recently published as “The Cure for Unhappiness.” Courtesy Revan Schendler

By EVELINE MACDOUGALL

For the Recorder

Published: 05-16-2025 9:07 AM

(This is part two of a two-part series about the literary work and life of Ashfield resident Hilary Sloin, who died in 2019.)

Hilary Sloin, considered by many to be a creative juggernaut, lived in Northampton and Ashfield over several decades. Sloin died by suicide in 2019 after struggling with psychological, economic, and other challenges. This week’s column takes a deeper dive into Sloin’s literary gifts, her attempts to heal, and three close friends who collaborated to preserve her work, posthumously.

The Stray Dog Collective – which took its name from Sloin’s antique business – is made up of women who did not want Sloin’s brilliance to be forgotten. RevanSchendler, Meredith Rose, and Barb Hadden collaborated to publish “The Cure for Unhappiness,” a collection of Sloin’s short stories and essays, a several-year project that culminated in recent publication.

A writer herself, RevanSchendler noted the junctures of writing and mental illness: “It’s a topic of devastation,” she said. “Hilary wrote about hard realities. Many of her characters struggle with mental illness and other difficulties, yet they’re capable of great compassion, wit, and insight.” Schendler said that “[Sloin’s] stories may not be for everyone, but they’re likely to resonate with readers who experience life as complex and contradictory. That’s many more of us than may be apparent.”

Schendler described Sloin as “bi-polar, with manic periods. She had creative bursts, and then she’d crash. She was immensely charismatic, dynamic, and attractive, all of which could disguise her day-to-day suffering.” For Schendler, “there’s something comforting about the precision of Hilary’s language, her imagery, and the brilliant way she embodied a character and gave them their own unique lexicon.” Although Sloin identified as a lesbian, Schendler found that the way Sloin saw people, as well as her sense of humor, led to the creation of literature that was broad, open, and accepting. “Hilary’s hilarious nature led to her brilliance as a playwright. She wasn’t in a box; she didn’t experience others as straight or gay or bisexual. Hilary was pure of heart and open to peoples’ contradictions. She was also interested in silence.”

To illustrate Sloin’s willingness to honor silence, Schendler referenced “Appealing,” a story in which a regular guy named Joe takes a job in a hardware store run by Blaze and Amy, women who were partners both professionally and romantically. Schendler appreciates the silences Sloin allows between the lovers, the kind that invariably builds into tension. “Tension can happen in any relationship,” said Schendler. “Hilary knew that. The sexual orientation of the people involved doesn’t matter.”

In another story, “The Cure for Unhappiness,” a woman named Kathleen routinely minimizes herself to accommodate her rude and clueless boyfriend, Randall. Kathleen’s sister, Allison, visits and hits it off with a woman who lives nearby. Allison is a lesbian, highly intelligent, and once attempted suicide after a break-up. Parallels between Sloin’s life and those of her characters dart in and among the stories, yet according to Stray Dog Collective members, the stories are meant to be fictional, despite the fact that they draw strongly on Sloin’s experiences and impressions.

Sloin’s stories tend to be pretty depressing, yet the book is absolutely worth a read, because her cynicism is intermittently exposed as perhaps unintentional posturing. She often seems convinced that life, relationships, and survival are futile, yet her pessimism regularly breaks open, exposing a deeper, vulnerable belief that people are inevitably compassionate and astoundingly noble despite their many flaws.

In “Weighted Blankets,” two sisters – both of whom struggle in their sad lives – end up caring for young twin brothers who’ve been abandoned, first, by their mother, then by their father, then by their father’s ex-girlfriend, and finally by the ex-girlfriend’s ex-girlfriend. It can be tricky to map the tangled relationships, yet after much heartbreaking pathos laced with humor, the reader might arrive at a phrase or sentence that feels like fresh air rushing into a fetid room, as happens at the end of “Weighted Blankets.” After ricocheting around loss, betrayal, abandonment, alcohol abuse, poverty, and fear, the story concludes with a startling one-liner: “But neither of them had ever felt so happy.”

The redemptive qualities in Sloin’s stories begs the question of whether she might have found reasons to hope and to survive, rather than choosing her final exit at the age of 55. “I suspect we’re all traumatized by living in the world at this time,” said Schendler. “Some people are more sensitive than others, and have had worse things happen to them.” Schendler’s work with incarcerated people showed her that “in some populations, the prevalence of trauma is a given.” Yet Schendler’s experience as a gardener makes her “basically optimistic. With plants, if you have good soil, water, light, and nutrients, things are likely to turn out well. With people, even if they’ve experienced terrible trauma, they can thrive if they have community support, as well as the will. Hilary certainly made many efforts.”

Schendler said Sloin attempted suicide several times, and found the strength to volunteer with groups that seek to provide alternatives to suicide. “Hilary was in and out of [psychiatric] hospitals. Toward the end, she found that shock treatments made it impossible for her to write or to think. When she couldn’t function any longer, I think that’s when she reached for the last resort.”

Sloin “wanted to write about mental illness,” said Schendler, “to publicize what it’s like. Unfortunately, she began forcing friends away, cutting people off. She became isolated. Every suicide is different, there’s a confluence of events that contributes to that outcome. In Hilary’s case, she lost a longstanding job when a magazine folded. She wanted to make a living as a writer, but pivoted to antiques to pay the bills. Poverty became a constricting influence. Her cabin started to fall apart; it was actually never intended as a year-round place. Things just got too hard.”

Barb Hadden, whose artwork graces the cover of “The Cure for Unhappiness,” said Sloin “could really see our world and its people. On the one hand, it was scary to her, but she remained remarkably open and perceptive. She could communicate simple things so deeply. Hilary’s heart was broken every day, and it became too much.” Reading “The Cure for Unhappiness” may leave the reader feeling crestfallen that they’ll never have a chance to meet the insightful, hilarious western Mass author, but thanks to the Stray Dog Collective, we all have a chance to make Hilary Sloin’s acquaintance on the page.

To order “The Cure for Unhappiness”, visit www.levellerspress.com/product/the-cure-for-unhappiness-hilary-sloin/.

For bulk orders, email revanschendler@gmail.com

Eveline MacDougall is the author of “Fiery Hope.” To contact: eveline@amandlachorus.org.