Blog Review of Perfection by Vincenzo Latronico, Translated by Sophie Hughes
When I first stumbled upon Perfection, a novel by Vincenzo Latronico, translated by Sophie Hughes, I was intrigued—especially knowing it had been shortlisted for the 2025 International Booker Prize. The modern-day reimagining of Georges Perec’s Une histoire des années soixante promised to explore the intricacies of contemporary life through a lens of nostalgia and critique. As someone who often finds herself navigating the glossy surfaces of social media and consumerist culture, this felt like a book tailored for me.
The protagonists, Anna and Tom, embody the struggles of their generation: navigating creativity, social media, and the complexities of existence in a Berlin that feels vibrant yet oddly disconnected. They are creative professionals—web developers and brand strategists—caught in a whirlwind of digital life that’s both fascinating and suffocating. The duality of their existence—both in the tangible world and the curated online narrative they create—reflects a broader commentary on modern individualism, where personal value seems increasingly measured by likes, shares, and virtual interactions.
Latronico’s writing is both dispassionate and strangely compelling. The opening chapter invites us into a beautifully arranged apartment, drenched in sunlight and adorned with Instagram-worthy decor. Yet, the story doesn’t shy away from exploring the underlying messiness of their lives. The juxtaposition of life as depicted on social media versus the cluttered reality highlights a central theme: authenticity versus performance. I found myself captivated, sharing a knowing smirk with Anna and Tom as they navigated their curated world, wondering how many of us do the same.
What resonated deeply with me was the nostalgic yearning both characters express for a "simpler time" when social and political struggles felt more immediate. Their lament for the missed moments of activism during the revolutions of the past mirrors a frustration many millennials feel today—an awareness of issues like migration and inequality that often feels distant and too complex to tackle. As they navigate their privilege, it’s clear that they grapple with a mix of genuine concern and a paralyzing sense of futility.
Latronico masterfully maintains a narrative distance, an approach reminiscent of Perec, which enhances the observational quality of the storytelling. It invites readers to reflect on Anna and Tom’s lives—did I appreciate their creativity, or was I merely judging their choices? The irony of their social commitment, which translates into shallow gestures rather than meaningful action, added a biting layer of humor that resonated throughout the text. As one judge observed, the novel holds a mirror to readers, prompting us to reconsider our own lives and aspirations.
However, I must admit there were moments when the narrative’s focus on surface-level details felt tedious. While I appreciated the ambition behind Latronico’s work, it occasionally floundered in its exploration of vacuity, leaving me yearning for a deeper emotional connection with the characters. Yet even those moments spurred reflection on the nature of perception—exactly what Latronico seems to be critiquing.
Perfection is not just a book; it’s an exploration of existence in the digital age, making it a compelling read for anyone who’s ever felt the pressure of appearances. For those interested in how nostalgia, identity, and consumerism intertwine in our lives, this novel will both challenge and resonate. While I may have found parts of it tedious, it ultimately confirmed my belief in the importance of reflecting on the lives we curate and the world we live in.
If you enjoy a thoughtful exploration of modern life with a touch of nostalgia, Perfection will likely strike a chord, prompting you to question not just the lives of Anna and Tom, but your own as well.