Perfection by Vincenzo Latronico , Sophie Hughes

The novel opens on a situation that looks like success. Anna and Tom, a couple from an unnamed southern European country, have settled in Berlin, where they work as freelance graphic designers for clients they largely reach online. Their flat, their possessions, their leisure and their friendships are all carefully assembled, and much of it is photographed and shared. Latronico describes this world in precise, almost inventory-like detail, which lets the reader see how every choice, from furniture to food to politics, doubles as a signal of identity.

The book's main movement is erosion rather than plot. Work that once felt flexible turns repetitive. Friends drift away, often back to their home countries or into family life, which exposes how provisional the community around the couple really was. Their sense that they ought to be doing something meaningful leads to an attempt at political engagement, but their principles turn out to be mostly lifestyle preferences, and the effort goes nowhere. Anna and Tom are never villains and rarely fools. The novel's irony comes from the fact that they have done what their milieu told them a good life consists of, and the formula has not delivered what it implied.

Latronico's method matters as much as his subject. The narration observes the pair from a slight remove, summarising years at a time and letting small domestic details carry emotional weight, such as the way a showpiece apartment is shadowed by dust, wear and routine. This distance has a double effect. It is satirical, since the reader sees patterns the characters cannot, but it is also sympathetic, since the same patterns are plainly common to a whole cohort. Perfection becomes less a story about two people than a portrait of a social type shaped by the internet, cheap travel, the gig economy and the cultural capital of cities like Berlin.

The story eventually moves beyond Berlin, and the shift of setting, including a later stay in Lisbon, tests whether dissatisfaction belongs to a place or to the way of living the couple carry with them. The novel resists a tidy answer. It suggests that the search for a more authentic life can itself become another curated product, and that nostalgia, restlessness and envy of others' images are built into the system.

The book is short and designed to be read quickly, but its structure rewards a slower second look. Its power lies in accumulation: lists of objects, habits and compromises that slowly add up to a diagnosis of a generation's unease. Readers who know Perec's Things will recognise the debt, while newer readers can take the book as a standalone, contemporary social novel about aspiration and its limits.

Curated identity: the novel shows how taste, travel, food and home décor become a public performance as much as a private pleasure.

The gap between image and experience: the couple's online presentation of an ideal life contrasts with fatigue, routine and doubt.

Consumer politics: Anna and Tom's ethics are largely expressed through purchases and small lifestyle rules, which the book treats as an inadequate substitute for collective action.

Precarious creative work: freelance, screen-based labour offers freedom and mobility but also repetition, insecurity and diminishing meaning.

Generational drift: friendships and communities proved more temporary than they seemed, as peers change their lives, move away or take on family responsibilities.

Migration without displacement: the couple are expatriates by choice and privilege, and the novel explores how a cosmopolitan life can become strangely insulated.

The pursuit of authenticity: the desire to find something more real is shown to be shaped by the same market forces that produced the dissatisfaction.

Perfection is set largely in the 2010s and after, a period when Berlin had a reputation among young Europeans as an affordable, creative and nightlife-rich city, and when smartphones, social media and remote freelance work made it possible to live almost anywhere. Anna and Tom belong to the early wave of what is often called digital nomadism, and the novel observes both the optimism of that moment and its aftermath.

Literarily, the book stands in a tradition of novels that analyse consumer society through a couple's possessions and aspirations. Its closest ancestor is Georges Perec's Things: A Story of the Sixties (1965), which depicted young Parisians shaped by advertising and affluence. Latronico transposes that critique to a world in which the advertisements are partly their own photographs.

The novel appeared in Italian in 2022 and in English in 2025, after the pandemic had changed attitudes to remote work, housing and travel. Latronico's own background as a Rome-born, Milan-based critic and translator, and as the author of a memoir about Berlin, informs the setting, though the book is a novel and not an autobiography.

This book suits readers who enjoy short literary novels with a strong conceptual spine, especially those drawn to social satire, urban life and questions about work and consumption. Readers of Perec, Annie Ernaux, Sally Rooney or Houellebecq may find points of contact, although the tone is distinct from each.

It is also a good fit for people who are interested in translated fiction but want a brief, contemporary starting point, and for reading groups that like a text they can finish in one or two sittings and then argue about.

It may be less satisfying for readers who want a plot-driven story, extended dialogue, or deep emotional access to the characters. Those who find detached, observational narration cold may also struggle.

The sentences are clear and the vocabulary is accessible, and the book is short enough to finish quickly. The difficulty lies elsewhere. The narration works through patterns, summaries and accumulated detail rather than scenes, so readers expecting conventional drama may find the pace unusual. Because the characters are seen from a distance, the emotional payoff comes from noticing implications rather than being told what to feel.

No specialist knowledge is needed. Familiarity with contemporary cultural references, such as design trends, online platforms and freelancing, helps in catching the satire. The UK paperback is a compact edition. Page counts vary across retailers, so readers should not rely on a specific number when planning their time.

None is required, but some context enriches the experience. A general sense of Berlin's place in the 2010s European imagination, as a cheap, permissive and creative city, helps explain why Anna and Tom go there. Some awareness of how social media encourages people to present idealised versions of their lives is also useful.

Readers curious about the literary lineage may wish to skim a summary of Georges Perec's Things, since Latronico is in conversation with it. It also helps to know that the book is a translation. Sophie Hughes rendered it from Italian, and the original title, Le perfezioni, is plural, which hints at the book's interest in many small versions of the ideal rather than a single one.

Perfection manages something many novels about online life do not: it captures digital-era dissatisfaction without relying on screens, hashtags or technology plot devices. The social media dimension is felt through behaviour and habit rather than explained. Its modest length lets one idea be pursued with discipline, and the writing is controlled enough that the repetition becomes meaningful.

It is also a revealing example of how a mid-twentieth-century French experiment can be reworked for the present. Reading it alongside Perec, or simply as a novel of its moment, shows how the question of what we want, and whether we want it freely, remains open. Its recognition on the International Booker Prize 2025 shortlist signals strong critical interest, and Hughes's translation is a significant part of that story.

A careful reader may come away noticing how often lifestyle choices are presented as personal expression when they follow shared patterns. The book encourages reconsidering the difference between ethical living and ethical action, and between a community and an audience.

It also invites attention to how narration shapes sympathy: the same flat, descriptive voice can be read as mockery or as tenderness. Readers may find themselves reflecting on their own routines, spaces and digital habits, and on what would count as a good life if it could not be shown to anyone.

The book is tightly organised and economical, with an argument carried by accumulation rather than speeches. Its portrait of a specific social milieu is detailed and recognisable without being a lecture. The tone balances irony and compassion, avoiding easy contempt for its characters. Its dialogue with Perec's earlier novel gives it intellectual depth for those who notice it, while remaining enjoyable without that knowledge. Critics have also noted the quality of Sophie Hughes's English rendering, which keeps the cool, precise register of the narration.

The same detachment that gives the book its clarity can leave readers feeling distant from Anna and Tom, who remain types as much as individuals. Reviewers have disagreed about aspects of the style; some found the satire sharp and thought-provoking, while others had reservations about the manner of the writing. The social world it depicts is narrow, centred on relatively privileged creative professionals, so readers seeking a broader view of migration, labour or class in Europe will need other books. Some references to digital culture may date quickly. Those wanting resolution or a dramatic arc may find the ending understated.

Anna and Tom: the unnamed-country, Berlin-based couple of freelance designers who serve as the book's central figures and as representatives of a generation.

Vincenzo Latronico: the Italian author, born in Rome in 1984, also an art critic and translator, whose earlier novels include Ginnastica e rivoluzione and La cospirazione delle colombe.

Sophie Hughes: the translator of the English edition, whose work on the novel was recognised through the 2025 International Booker Prize shortlist.

Georges Perec and Things: the French writer and his 1965 novel, which the book is widely seen as paying tribute to and updating.

Berlin: the city where the couple settle, and which the book treats as a symbol of 2010s creative and cosmopolitan promise.

Lisbon: a later setting, relevant to the question of whether a change of place resolves dissatisfaction.

Digital nomadism and the creative gig economy: the working conditions that define the couple's mobility, income and insecurity.

The International Booker Prize: the award for fiction translated into English, for which the book was shortlisted in 2025.

Fitzcarraldo Editions and Bompiani: the UK and Italian publishers of the English and original editions.

What does it mean to have everything one was told to want and still feel something is missing? How far can personal consumer choices stand in for political commitment? When a life is documented and shared, which parts are lived and which are produced for an audience? Is a community of peers who are all in transit a real community? Can the search for authenticity escape the market that shapes it? Does moving to a new city change a person's circumstances, or only their surroundings? And how much responsibility do individuals bear for a pattern that is clearly collective?

Because the book is short, a group can comfortably read it in one session and use the meeting for discussion. A useful approach is to begin with first impressions of the narrative voice, then move to the couple's relationship with work, then to the politics of the book.

Group members might compare how closely they recognise themselves or people they know in Anna and Tom, and whether that recognition feels flattering, uncomfortable or both. If anyone has read Perec's Things, they could briefly compare the two. It may also be worthwhile to talk about the experience of reading in translation and what the group notices about tone and register. Bring along any views on the ending, since it tends to divide readers.

1. How does the narrator's distance from Anna and Tom shape your sympathy for them? Is the book mocking them, understanding them, or both?

2. Which details of the couple's home and routines struck you as most revealing, and why?

3. The novel suggests that the couple's political efforts are limited by their way of life. Do you agree with that assessment?

4. What role do their friends play, and what does the group's gradual dispersal say about the kind of community they had?

5. Does moving away from Berlin offer any real change? What does the book imply about place and dissatisfaction?

6. How does the novel treat the relationship between online image and daily life, without relying on much explicit talk of technology?

7. To what extent is the couple's situation a generational one, and to what extent a matter of class and privilege?

8. What do you gain or lose by reading the novel as a response to Perec's Things?

9. Is the title ironic, sincere, or something else? What might the plural of the original Italian title add?

10. How satisfying did you find the ending, and what would a more conclusive ending have changed?

This profile draws on the Booker Prize Foundation's book page and reading guide, the Italian publisher Bompiani's author page, the Australian publisher Text Publishing, the New York Review of Books announcement, reference entries for the novel and its author, and a small number of critical reviews. Edition details such as ISBN, format and publication date were cross-checked against bookseller and bibliographic listings, which are used only for those details. Retail listings give conflicting page counts, so none is stated here. The analysis and wording are original, and interpretations of the book are the editors' own readings, informed by published criticism. Some points of critical reception come from reviews summarised in reference works rather than read in full.