Though she no longer calls D.C. home, writer Marissa Higgins knows her way around the District, where she lived in various Northwest neighborhoods from 2014 to 2020. The city even celebrated her work in 2020 with a grant for her nonfiction writing, which has appeared in numerous publications including The Atlantic, Salon, and Slate. Unfortunately, D.C. won’t get a starring role in Higgins’ fictional work until next year’s Sweetener, but her debut novel, A Good Happy Girl, published by Catapult in April, puts Higgins’ talents as a writer on full display. With its dynamically crafted plot, distinctive narrative arc, and unique characters, Higgins succeeds at accomplishing every author’s goal: projecting a clear image and propulsive story for her readers.
The protagonist and unreliable narrator is Helen, a self-destructive young professional who goes through life in a cough syrup-induced haze staving off anxiety and malaise—detritus left over from her childhood. Although Helen’s emotional state is unsteady, three things are clear: She is a lesbian who enjoys hooking up with couples, her brother died mysteriously, and she can make money and garner attention through her side hustle: livestreaming her feet.
Higgins quickly engages readers by giving us direct access to Helen’s frame of mind as she prepares for her first date with the married Catherine and Katrina: “I loaded up on decongestants to save my mind. I brushed my teeth, which, in bad spells, I only did a few nights a week.”
The foundation of A Good Happy Girl, set in Boston, is built around these dates. After the trio meet up at a cafe, where Katrina was “bundled in a white coat with fur at its collar,” they move to the couple’s home for another date. During each rendezvous the sexual exploration advances and the emotional attachment intensifies. Higgins conveys the throuple’s closeness and Helen’s insecure nature through a road trip to Katrina’s mother’s house in Maine. They also convene in Vermont, which provides the setting for an important development un the trio’s relationship and a defining moment for Helen.
The narrative turns darker through a series of phone calls and meetings with Helen’s imprisoned father, incarcerated for elder abuse of his mother: “He left his own mother alone for so long that her skin stuck to her reclining chair, her urine and feces forming a connective layer of rot,” Higgins writes. She creates a monstrous man who does not exhibit any love for his family—let alone his daughter. The only thing he desires is a character statement from Helen for the parole board. Her mother is an accomplice, but it is Helen’s father on whom Higgins focuses.
Higgins continuously projects flawless images of her defective characters and her masterfully crafted sentences provide readers with a clear vision of A Good Happy Girl’s various settings. In describing a prison visit, Helen notes, “The visitor’s room was all cream walls and plastic folding tables and chairs. My father thumbed the circles under his eyes. His fatigue, like mine, grows purple. Mauve in the noon light.” Before a spontaneous visit with the wives, Higgins describes Helen’s mood: “Feeling disgusted with myself, ashamed of my dirtiness, I clipped my nails in the car. I was ovulating and my skin spurned grease.”
Helen’s self-disgust is threaded throughout the novel: “I was getting the slam I really wanted, or close to it—confirmation I was meaningless, dismissible, impermanent. I was crying and I was feeling happy. Why don’t I matter?”
Higgins’ protagonist might remind some readers of Ottessa Moshfegh’s unnamed narrator in My Year of Rest and Relaxation who escapes life with a diet of sedatives and sleep. In Helen, Higgins has created a relatable character deeply traumatized by her parents. What sets both writer and character apart is the way in which Helen’s self-destructive nature and her desire for love and approval are depicted. It draws the reader in, making you wonder if Helen will find a way to stop hating herself.
With A Good Happy Girl, Higgins’ has established her extreme talent as a writer who understands the pain of a wounded soul.