Mrs. March by Virginia Feito

When a new author like Virginia Done is compared to Patricia Highsmith responsibility hangs like a sword of Damocles waiting for the general criticism of the readers to end up sentencing the matter. Ratifying the correct comparison, as the idea is pointing out as this work spreads, supposes a very opportune discovery.

More than anything because the police genre (currently devoured by a noir that points more to derivative criminal narratives), always has a point of greater narrative substance where the author of the day points to greater heights. Aspects that can go from the invitation to the deduction at the same time as an approach to the protagonists from unsuspected edges.

One never knows where the murderer is, the secret, the discovery of hidden realities that underlie everyday life as final revelations that break in the ingenious twist. Everything can start randomly, and almost better that way so that the matter breaks like that ocean of circumstances that first breaks reality and then leaves with its hangover those remains to be recovered to discover incredible shipwrecks with which everything finally fits.

George March's latest novel is a huge success. No one is more proud of it than his devoted wife, Mrs. March, who leads an exquisitely controlled life on the Upper East Side. One morning, while she is about to buy olive bread at her favorite bakery, the shop assistant insinuates that the protagonist of George's new book seems to be inspired by her. This casual comment robs her of the certainty that she knows everything about her husband—and about herself. Thus begins a hallucinatory and hallucinatory journey that may reveal a murder and secrets buried for too long.

You can now buy the novel “La Señora March”, by Virginia Feito, here:

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