[2 min read] Latronico’s Perfection reveals how modern freedom, wrapped in oat milk foam and filtered aesthetics, might be just another cage.
I recently read Italian author Vincenzo Latronico’s short novel Perfection and decided to write a little about it—as well as how the protagonists’ experiences aren’t just a unique phenomenon.
Perfection follows the life of a couple, Anna and Tom, living as digital nomads in Berlin. Like many content creators today, their work isn’t bound by geography or the hours of the day. They can enjoy the Berlin summer, go clubbing and return home intoxicated at 4 a.m., wake up late, sip coffee from ceramic mugs surrounded by gorgeous houseplants, head to a café with good Wi-Fi and laptop-friendly tables, and continue working while checking social media. They might be doing graphic design or web development, running social media accounts, posting to carefully curated content grids, all while lounging in their cream-colored Scandinavian minimalist armchair. They can take a month-long winter trip to the Mediterranean coast for the warmth and sunshine, while Airbnb-ing or subletting their fully furnished apartment. It’s a lifestyle many would dream of—digital nomads, tech workers with remote benefits, social media influencers, or content creators alike.
The trap, however, lies just behind the perfect foam of their flat whites: the oat milk brand stays the same whether in Berlin or Lisbon. The airy, plant-filled cafés are nearly always crowded with like-minded digital nomads, their silver laptops hiding half their faces, every open seat immediately claimed. The enamel-plated lemon-garlic salmon requires an equally quality-assured cast iron skillet to bring out its flavors. The sunny afternoons spent with international expat friends at rooftop barbecues help stave off loneliness.
Perfection often hits close to home. Latronico’s precise and evocative prose constructs scenes that resonate with me—just before making me realize that, as much as I want to distance myself, I too am living in a bubble. I cringe at the lifestyle portrayed, yet, though I’m not a digital nomad, I see echoes of it in my own life as a tech worker with a relatively flexible schedule. I see Berlin’s shadows flicker in New York: a city overflowing with transplants in their 20s and 30s, eager to leave a mark, make friends, and have fun. Like Berlin, Manhattan and Brooklyn host their own minimalist Scandinavian cafés, indie galleries tucked into abandoned buildings in Chelsea, industrial bars and nightclubs occupying old warehouses in Bushwick. These bubbles—formed around shared tastes and reinforced by social media, influencers, and peer culture—offer belonging. But for those inside, the charm wears off, replaced by a sense of self-importance or restlessness, prompting the search for the next big thing.
The spirit of the book reminds me of Chinese author Qian Zhongshu’s famous quote from 围城 (Fortress Besieged): “婚姻是一座围城，城外的人想进去，城里的人想出来。” — “Marriage is like a fortress besieged: those outside want to get in, and those inside want to get out.” In this context, it’s not just marriage—life itself often feels like a besieged fortress. Those outside the bubble want in; those inside want out.
In the end, Perfection doesn’t preach or condemn—it simply holds up a mirror. Perhaps that’s all it needs to do. No life is immune to repetition, performance, or longing. Escaping the bubble may not be the goal; maybe it’s about noticing we’re in one at all. With that awareness, we can begin to choose—deliberately—what to keep, what to question, and what to leave behind.
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