Marisa Walz’s debut Good Intentions is a gripping tale that lingers in the uneasy space between love, loss, and the moral blur of “helping” someone too much.
Cady, an event planner with a seemingly perfect life, loses her twin sister, Dana, in a sudden accident. While grieving she meets a grieving mother in the hospital, Morgan. Cady convinces herself that helping this stranger will somehow heal them both. What follows is a quiet, unnerving unraveling of identity and obsession. Walz pens this mystery-thriller with emotional precision, crafting the somewhat perfect unreliable narrator who we cannot help but be sympathetic towards. She captures grief’s claustrophobic effect, and the lengths people are willing to go to in order to make sense of loss.
This isn’t a fast-paced thriller; it’s a psychological portrait that poses uncomfortable questions about boundaries, intention, and the things we tell ourselves about being “good" and having "good intentions". It’s haunting, humane, and deeply unsettling in a pretty good way.
If this novel was a perfume it would be either Imaginary Authors - A City on Fire for its smoky sweetness and emotional unease or Le Labo – Iris 39 for its elegant, intimate, but unsettlingly detached feel.
If this novel was a perfume it would be either Imaginary Authors - A City on Fire for its smoky sweetness and emotional unease or Le Labo – Iris 39 for its elegant, intimate, but unsettlingly detached feel.
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