Review of Perfection by Vincenzo Latronico

Vincenzo Latronico’s Perfection, translated from Italian by Sophie Hughes and published by Europa Editions (2024) and Head of Zeus (2025), is a razor-sharp satirical novel shortlisted for the 2025 International Booker Prize. A rising Italian novelist, critic, and translator, Latronico dissects the seductive artifice of digital culture through Anna and Tom, a millennial couple curating flawless online personas in Berlin’s gentrified milieu. Lauded as “a brilliant skewering of our image-obsessed age” (International Booker Prize Judges, 2025), the novel probes the tension between authenticity and performance in a social media-driven world.

For Indian readers, Perfection resonates with the introspective depth of Hindi poets like Sumitranandan Pant, the social critiques of Mahadevi Varma, and the emotional resonance of Punjabi poets like Amrita Pritam and Shiv Kumar Batalvi. Its exploration of identity, modernity, and societal pressure mirrors India’s tech-driven transformation and cultural dialogues on truth versus illusion, aligning with the critical perspectives of Punjabi writers like Gurdial Singh. This review argues that Perfection is essential reading for its incisive prose, satirical wit, and urgent reflection on digital existence, offering Indian readers a profound lens to navigate selfhood in a hyper-connected, image-conscious society.

Perfection follows Anna and Tom, a photogenic couple in their late twenties who relocate from London to Berlin to pursue creative careers—Anna as a freelance illustrator, Tom as a photographer. Their lives are meticulously curated for social media, projecting an enviable bohemian aesthetic: “They’d made their life together look like something you’d want” (Latronico, 2024, p. 11). Set in Berlin’s trendy Prenzlauer Berg, the novel captures their immersion in a world of artisanal coffee shops, minimalist decor, and carefully staged posts that mask their inner turmoil.

The third-person narrative, laced with ironic detachment, traces their growing obsession with online validation. Anna’s illustrations gain traction through curated feeds: “Her drawings were like her feed: bright, clean, aspirational” (Latronico, 2024, p. 34). Tom’s photography thrives on capturing their “perfect” life, yet he grapples with its artifice: “He’d frame her in doorways, in sunlight, as if she were always just arriving somewhere better” (Latronico, 2024, p. 52). Their relationship frays under the pressure to maintain this facade, with Anna confessing, “We’re not living, we’re staging” (Latronico, 2024, p. 87). Their curated posts, like a breakfast scene, betray their disconnect: “The avocado toast was flawless, but they barely spoke” (Latronico, 2024, p. 101).

As their follower counts soar, alienation deepens. Anna’s collaboration with a wellness influencer amplifies her reach but erodes her sense of self: “She felt like a product, not a person” (Latronico, 2024, p. 113). Tom’s encounter with a disillusioned artist forces him to confront his complicity: “You’re selling a dream you don’t even believe in” (Latronico, 2024, p. 142). The novel’s climax reveals the hollowness of their pursuit, as Anna reflects, “Perfection wasn’t a place you arrived at; it was a trap you built” (Latronico, 2024, p. 176). A late scene captures their unraveling, with Tom scrolling through old posts: “Every photo was a lie, but it was their lie” (Latronico, 2024, p. 189). Through their descent, Latronico critiques the commodification of identity and the emotional cost of living for likes, urging readers to question authenticity in a digital age.

Perfection is a literary triumph, blending biting satire with psychological nuance, making it a compelling read for Indian readers. Sophie Hughes’ translation captures Latronico’s crisp, ironic tone, as seen in the couple’s curated existence: “They’d made their life together look like something you’d want” (Latronico, 2024, p. 11). This incisive prose resonates with the social critiques of Mahadevi Varma’s Yama, where societal expectations shape personal lives, captivating readers in Lucknow’s literary salons or Chandigarh’s bookstores.

The novel’s linear yet introspective structure mirrors the fragmented nature of digital life, akin to the episodic reflections in Sumitranandan Pant’s Chidambara. Anna’s disillusionment—“We’re not living, we’re staging” (Latronico, 2024, p. 87)—captures the universal struggle for authenticity, echoing Nirala’s Apsara, where inner truth battles external pressures. The satire of digital culture is razor-sharp, as seen in Anna’s influencer collaboration: “She felt like a product, not a person” (Latronico, 2024, p. 113), resonating with India’s social media boom, where influencers shape youth culture in Bengaluru or Hyderabad. The psychological depth, particularly Tom’s crisis—“You’re selling a dream you don’t even believe in” (Latronico, 2024, p. 142)—aligns with the introspective resonance of Gurdial Singh’s Marhi Da Deeva, deepening its appeal for readers seeking emotional insight.

The novel’s vivid imagery, like the hollow breakfast scene—“The avocado toast was flawless, but they barely spoke” (Latronico, 2024, p. 101)—and Tom’s nostalgic scrolling—“Every photo was a lie, but it was their lie” (Latronico, 2024, p. 189)—evokes the poetic visuals of Punjabi literature, such as Amrita Pritam’s Pinjar. Its brevity—192 pages—ensures accessibility, while its Berlin setting reflects India’s globalized aspirations, from Gurugram’s startup hubs to Mumbai’s urban lifestyles. The critique of performative perfection—“Perfection wasn’t a place you arrived at; it was a trap” (Latronico, 2024, p. 176)—connects with India’s dialogues on balancing tradition and modernity, making it a vital text for diverse audiences.

Despite its brilliance, Perfection has limitations for Indian readers. The detached narrative voice, while stylistically effective, can feel emotionally distant, as seen in the clinical description of Anna’s art: “Her drawings were like her feed: bright, clean, aspirational” (Latronico, 2024, p. 34). This may alienate readers accustomed to the emotional warmth of Mahadevi Varma’s Neerja or Shiv Kumar Batalvi’s Loona, particularly in rural Uttar Pradesh or Punjab, where heartfelt storytelling is prized.

The novel’s Western setting and focus on millennial urbanites limit engagement with India’s specific social issues, such as caste or rural-urban divides. Unlike Small Boat, which addresses migration, Perfection feels less tied to local concerns like farmer protests or Adivasi displacement, potentially reducing its relevance for readers in Patna or Amritsar. The privileged Berlin backdrop may feel unrelatable to readers in smaller towns like Jalandhar, where economic realities differ starkly.

The lack of a traditional plot arc, emphasizing internal unraveling over external events, may frustrate readers who prefer the narrative drive of Premchand’s Godan or Kartar Singh Duggal’s Naukar di Mout. Tom’s late confrontation—“You’re selling a dream you don’t even believe in” (Latronico, 2024, p. 142)—lacks sufficient buildup, which some critics note as a pacing flaw (The Guardian, 2025). The heavy reliance on digital culture tropes, like influencer collaborations, may feel niche for older readers or those in less tech-saturated regions like rural Bihar, reducing its universal appeal compared to more grounded Indian narratives.

Why Indian Readers Must Read This Book

Perfection is a must-read for Indian readers because its incisive satire of digital culture, profound exploration of identity, and emotional resonance align with India’s rich literary heritage and contemporary challenges, offering a transformative lens to navigate authenticity in a hyper-connected, image-conscious world. For readers in tech-driven cities like Bengaluru or cultural hubs like Amritsar, the novel’s portrayal of Anna and Tom’s curated lives—“They’d made their life together look like something you’d want” (Latronico, 2024, p. 11)—mirrors India’s social media explosion, where Instagram, YouTube, and TikTok shape youth aspirations in urban centers like Mumbai and rural areas with growing digital access, such as Punjab’s villages. This echoes the societal pressures critiqued in Mahadevi Varma’s Yama, where external expectations distort personal truth, resonating with readers balancing tradition and modernity across India’s diverse landscape.

The novel’s exploration of authenticity versus performance aligns with Indian philosophical concepts like satya (truth) and maya (illusion), inviting reflection on selfhood in a world of curated facades. Anna’s confession—“We’re not living, we’re staging” (Latronico, 2024, p. 87)—evokes the introspective depth of Sumitranandan Pant’s Chidambara, where inner truth prevails over external illusions, appealing to readers in Varanasi or Lucknow who value spiritual inquiry. The emotional toll of digital validation—“She felt like a product, not a person” (Latronico, 2024, p. 113)—parallels the yearning in Nirala’s Apsara, where personal authenticity battles societal expectations, making it relatable to readers in Hindi heartlands like Allahabad or urban youth in Delhi.

Latronico’s critique of commodified identity resonates with India’s digital youth culture, where influencers and startups drive trends in cities like Hyderabad or Chandigarh. Tom’s crisis—“You’re selling a dream you don’t even believe in” (Latronico, 2024, p. 142)—echoes the disillusionment in Gurdial Singh’s Marhi Da Deeva, where societal pressures erode personal integrity, encouraging readers to question performative success in India’s competitive academic and professional spheres, from IIT aspirants in Kanpur to entrepreneurs in Gurugram. The novel’s reflection on perfection as a trap—“Perfection wasn’t a place you arrived at; it was a trap” (Latronico, 2024, p. 176)—speaks to readers facing societal pressures, from academic excellence in Patna to social media clout in Amritsar, aligning with Amrita Pritam’s Pinjar, where external facades mask inner struggles.

The novel’s vivid imagery, like Tom framing Anna “in doorways, in sunlight” (Latronico, 2024, p. 52) or the hollow breakfast scene—“The avocado toast was flawless, but they barely spoke” (Latronico, 2024, p. 101)—evokes the poetic visuals of Shiv Kumar Batalvi’s Loona, where everyday moments carry profound meaning. The poignant realization—“Every photo was a lie, but it was their lie” (Latronico, 2024, p. 189)—resonates with the emotional depth of Kartar Singh Duggal’s Naukar di Mout, capturing the bittersweet nature of personal narratives, relatable to readers in Punjab’s literary communities or urban Kolkata. The novel’s subtle nod to mental health, as Anna grapples with alienation, aligns with India’s growing awareness of psychological well-being, inspiring readers to prioritize authenticity over curated perfection.

The novel’s brevity—192 pages—makes it accessible for readers balancing busy lives, from students in Bhopal to professionals in Chennai. Its globalized Berlin setting reflects India’s urban aspirations, while its critique of digital culture encourages reflection on India’s tech-driven transformation, from social media pressures in Mumbai to the digital divide in rural Bihar. The novel’s resonance with Punjabi critics like Gurdial Singh, whose works explore societal facades, and Surjit Patar’s Hawa Vich Likhe Harf, which laments lost authenticity, deepens its appeal for readers seeking introspective fiction. For those navigating India’s cultural ethos of truth and resilience, as seen in festivals like Diwali or Kabir’s teachings of honest living, Perfection offers a clarion call to reclaim genuine connections, urging readers to reflect on their roles in a world where curated images often overshadow reality.

Perfection by Vincenzo Latronico is a masterful, satirical novel that earns its place on the 2025 International Booker Prize shortlist. Its incisive prose, captured in quotes like “They’d made their life together look like something you’d want” (Latronico, 2024, p. 11) and “Perfection wasn’t a place you arrived at; it was a trap” (Latronico, 2024, p. 176), dissects the hollowness of digital culture with wit and poignancy. For Indian readers, the novel’s resonance with Hindi poets like Sumitranandan Pant, Mahadevi Varma, and Nirala, alongside Punjabi writers like Amrita Pritam, Shiv Kumar Batalvi, Gurdial Singh, and Kartar Singh Duggal, and its critique of performative identity, make it an essential read, despite minor challenges with its detached tone and Western focus. Enhanced by vivid examples like “The avocado toast was flawless, but they barely spoke” (Latronico, 2024, p. 101), it inspires reflection on India’s tech-driven society and cultural values. Highly recommended, Perfection is a powerful invitation for Indian readers to reclaim truth and connection in an image-obsessed world.