Mrs. March has always lived in her husband’s shadow. It was inevitable, really, because George March soared to fame with his blockbuster novels. He writes bestsellers that are smash hits, and she plans, manages and hosts stunning parties in his honor. This is how their lives work.

However, George’s latest novel triggers a visceral response inside Mrs. March when someone happens to mention how much she resembles the book’s main character --- a disgusting woman no self-respecting wife would want to have patterned after herself. She now sees George in an entirely new light, and her sights turn inward to try to learn what on earth would compel him to do this to her. What has she done to deserve such embarrassment? Mrs. March vows to discover the reason behind his motives. To this point, she hasn’t read the book, so she figures it’s time to change that.

"MRS. MARCH raises as many questions as it answers. But by the last sentence, it answers one very big one. It’s a doozy, too."

While George is out one day, Mrs. March sneaks into his study and steals a copy. As she’s doing this, she finds a newspaper clipping about a missing woman. Why did he save this? Taking a closer look, she realizes the story is about a town near where he frequently goes to hunt. When had he last been there? She searches her memory and, to her dawning horror, believes she already knows the answer. Just to be sure, though, maybe she ought to engage in some sleuthing. However, sleuthing is not something for which she is terribly qualified. No matter, she heads off to find out whatever she can unearth. After all, she must have some proof before contacting the police.

Meanwhile, George continues his publicity tours, conferences and whatever sort of business it is that his books require of him. Their young son, Jonathan, is herded around to the neighbor’s, off to school, camp or over to Grandma’s house. Mrs. March enjoys him when he’s home, which is quite rare actually. At least she thinks she enjoys him. But it’s better when he’s off playing with friends, isn’t it? Of course it is. Jonathan does seem to like Martha, their housekeeper, but the woman has been acting odd lately. Judgmental. Maybe it’s that dreadful book and horrible main character. Mrs. March thinks it must be.

Most of her troubles began with the novel’s release. Everywhere she goes, people are reading it. And now even her housekeeper is smirking at her. She can’t show her face in her favorite bake shop anymore, and women on the streets and in stores point at her. She sees them whispering, laughing and glancing around furtively. Is it the book, or do they know something more sinister about George? Or about her?

It’s difficult to put Virginia Feito’s debut novel into a literary category. It’s fiction, for certain, but it skirts the thriller genre too. As a character, Mrs. March herself might confuse the reader as she spirals into a deep paranoia of her own making. Becoming more and more disturbed by others’ comments and actions, her reactions grow ever more outrageous. Can anyone relate to Mrs. March’s thoughts? How did she get to this place? And what’s her breaking point? MRS. MARCH raises as many questions as it answers. But by the last sentence, it answers one very big one. It’s a doozy, too.