Perfection
Vincezo Latronica
Translated by Sophie Hughes
Narrated by Sophie Roberts
Short-listed for the International Booker in 2025, this slim book (136 pages, 3 hours audiobook) was discussed at my monthly bookclub in Singapore a few months ago. Known for avoiding large tomes and preferring healing fiction (mostly Korean or Japanese) and short books, this appealed to me right away. However, I finally got around to reading it only in the first week of 2026.
Featuring Anna and Tom, a millennial couple living the dream life of “digital creatives” in the early 2010’s in Berlin, the narrative follows their impeccable, perfectly curated lives showcased on Instragram over the years. A novel devoid of dialogue, there are descriptions, descriptions and more descriptions.
Imagine a carefully shot image of a beautiful home, with plants, paintings, artifacts arranged expressly for creating desire in the minds of the observer. Now read a detailed description of each item of furniture, the type of plant, the brand of the appliance, the angle of the light and the overall effect. And keep on going with more such descriptions. Of their life as a couple. Their move to Berlin from an unnamed Southern European country. Their weekdays and weekends. Their travels. Their friends. Their parties. Their work. Their sex life.
The third person narrator knows the ins and outs of their lives. Their motivations. Their frustrations. Their aspirations. And after a while, it starts feeling dispassionate. And heavy. You care about what happens with an indirect curiosity. But not really about them as people. They are caricatures of a generation that came of age with the internet and social media and were able to leverage their artistic talents and ease with emerging technology to create a freelance lifestyle that allows them the freedom to live away from their native country.
At first their life appears dreamy. Then the layers are peeled to show how their work life and home life which happen in the same place and side by side, doesn’t feel as wonderful as it seemed when they first arrived in Berlin. Over time the city morphs and their friendships fade. Their work suffers and they try to dig deeper to fit in and find purpose by dabbling into activism. Despite growing fluency with the language and their efforts to integrate, they feel like outsiders and decide to move elsewhere to greener pastures.
Their foray into Portugal doesn’t go as planned and when they return to Berlin, even more of the familiar has changed. Where should they go next? Where do they truly belong? What is the long term future that is guaranteed to them? The book takes us for a ride without bringing us smoothly to a final destination.
While there are plenty of words used to describe the couple and their journey, there seems to be a large distance that seems impossible to bridge and therefore feel anything for them. There is no invitation to join them in their exploration and you feel like a voyeur. And perhaps that is the intent of this book. To show the unattainableness (if there is such a word) of a carefully curated online life.
My opinion: A brilliant satire about the seductive glamour of the digital nomad life that shines brightly for a while before its shallow and empty side is cleverly revealed.
The Anthropologists
Ayesegul Savas
Narrated by Kathryn Aboya
Asya, a documentary film maker and her husband, Manu, live in an unnamed city in an unnamed country. They moved to this country as immigrant students from different countries and have been together for many years. The book narrates the small details of their days juxtaposed against their search for buying their first home, something they feel marks a turning point in their lives as a gesture of commitment to their adopted city/country.
The novel has the feel of a languid documentary film that follows an unremarkable couple through simple observations about their daily routines that include each other but also their families located far away. Asya’s mother and grandmother are supportive of her ambitions and share their lives through video calls. Manu deals with the demands of his family separately. They host each other’s parents on their respective visits. Although they are close friends with Ravi, with whom they hang out on weekends, they also strive to fit in. Making friends with locals is something they both aspire towards but most of these interactions feel awkward.
When does one feel truly home in a foreign country? This is a question all immigrants face at some point in their journey. Do you need to be known by your given name at your neighborhood stores and haunts? Should you be invited into the homes of the locals for barbecues and celebrations? What is the point at which you feel you truly belong? These are the questions tackled in this insightful novel as Asya and Manu visit many apartments in different neighborhoods including those with a large proportion of people from their respective countries.
Their sense of unease, both among those like them and the majority that has different rites of kinship are juxtaposed delicately, like a carefully constructed photograph.
While Asya spends several mornings a week interviewing people at the neighborhood park for her recently funded documentary, Manu soldiers through his regular job. Together they spend time with their elderly neighbor, Tereza, whose deteriorating health but stubborn refusal to move in with her family enables them to have a close familial relationship with an elder, something both Asya and Manu are unable to have with their own aging kin located in far away places.
Without being judgmental or overtly sarcastic, the tone of the book is a gentle exploration of the slow maturing of two individuals and their couplehood amidst their environment. The ebb and flow of their lives, their friendships, the things that interest them, the people that occupy their attention and effort feel like personal friends. There is wonderful visual quality to the writing that invites you to feel for the young couple.
My opinion: A soft focus literary documentary about young people coming of age in a foreign country. An easy read for those who like slice of life narratives.
Photo by Joel Muniz on Unsplash






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