Vincenzo Latronico, Perfection ****

Perfection is a short novel about Anna and Tom, a couple of "digital creatives" living and working in Berlin during the early 2000s. They alternate between feeling self-satisfied with their expatriate life and feeling anxious about the mismatch between that life and the version they curate on social media. 

It is a life of coffees taken out on the east-facing balcony... while scrolling New York Times headlines and social media on a tablet. the plants are watered as part of a daily routine that also includes yoga and a breakfast featuring an assortment of seeds. ... And it is a happy life...for rental at one hundred and eighteen euros a day, plus the fee to cover the Ukrainian cleaner, paid through a French gig economy company that files its taxes in Ireland; plus the commission for the online hosting platform, with offices in California but tax-registered in the Netherlands...

Their social circle consists of young people just like them, meeting in clubs and galleries and speaking (non-native) English. They are in Berlin, but it could be any cosmopolitan city in the world. Anna and Tom eventually get bored and look for a way to recapture the excitement of their earlier adventure.

What was happening in the city—the replacement of its historical inhabitants with younger, wealthier newcomers, and the resulting price hikes and decline in diversity—was gentrification, a term used almost exclusively by the people who caused it.

The author has a delightfully droll way of describing modern life, where we gain aspirations from online sources and desire authentic experience as long as we also have a good WiFi signal. He captures the contradictory desires for unique lives and shared culture.

Anna and Tom stand in for an entire cohort of young online professionals: "an identical struggle for a different life motivated an entire sector of their generation... Mysteriously enough, they had discovered homemade fermentation kits, fire-roasted cauliflower, and umami at the same time..." Their symbolic nature means that they lack individuality as characters, much like Berlin is flattened into a generic global city.

The comparatively brief length and the lack of character development make Perfection feel more like a long short story.

George Santayana, The Essential Santayana ** 1/2

There's no way that truly essential Santayana should run to over 600 pages. The title suggests a judicious selection of important articles in which the philosopher George Santayana clearly and concisely explains his theories. The Essential Santayana, by contrast, includes whole chapters from his major books while strangely omitting entirely his first successful first book about aesthetics. For example, it includes thirteen chapters from Skepticism and Animal Faith when it could have relied on the paper "Some Meanings of the Word 'Is'," about which Santayana himself said "it contains my whole philosophy in a very clear and succinct form." 

The heart of Santayana's philosophy is the idea that a person's worldview or philosophical system is akin to a personal work of art: it's a product of productive imagination that provides "a distinct vision of the universe" built to help us understand and navigate our lives. It is not, and could not be, an accurate objective description of the world. Ideas are symbols representing the world, metaphors emphasizing qualities useful to human interest. Santayana also believed that art supports the aspirations of our highest selves, so it is no insult to call a philosophy a work of art.

I find this vision compelling as a framework, but the specifics of Santayana's philosophy feel to me derivative of other thinkers. I was also put off by his often dismissive tone toward other philosophers, especially those who attempt to construct universal systems such as Kant or Plato. His personality seems opposite from the open-minded curiosity of his former teacher and colleague William James. He reserves his admiration for Spinoza, Heraclitus, and Democritis.

Wolfgang Herrndorf, Sand ****

Sand is a "darkly sophisticated literary thriller" (according to its back-cover blurb), translated from the German. It was a bookseller's recommendation from the Napa Bookmine. In an unnamed North African country, an amnesiac finds himself hunted by intimidating thugs; who is he and what do his pursuers want?

Book One (the first 80 pages of 440) introduces the locale, the cast of characters, and a series of crimes: murders, stolen suitcases, an aborted espionage rendezvous, an escaped suspect. The descriptions are cinematic and the tone delightfully sardonic. 

Book Two narrows the point of view to that of our amnesiac hero. The action remains vivid and the mystery of his identity is compelling, but the author isn't able to maintain the satirical tone. Most of the characters and investigations from Book One recede into the background. From this point forward, Sand is a (very good but) more conventional thriller, with a few descents into surreal comedy.

Sand would make an excellent limited series. It has an exotic locale, absorbing mysteries, and colorful characters. Adapting it, I would attempt to retain the tone and wider perspective of Book One.

Sophie Elmhurst, A Marriage at Sea ****

The central event in A Marriage at Sea is a shipwreck: Maurice and Maralyn Bailey were sailing toward the Galapagos when their 31-foot boat Auralyn was struck and sunk by an injured whale. They spent 118 days drifting across the Pacific in a life raft before a Korean fishing vessel spotted them.

The title is the first clue that the book is not fundamentally an adventure tale. Elmhurst describes the Baileys ' improvised survival and subsequent press tour with a journalist's attention to detail, but she is most interested in what their ordeal tells us about their relationship. Just as the undeterred Baileys are about to embark on a second ocean trip, Elmhurst spells out her metaphor explicitly: "For what else is a marriage, really, if not being stuck on a small raft with someone and trying to survive?"

The final section of the book jumps forward a few decades to show how their marriage worked under more normal circumstances. We see how Maralyn's relentlessly forward-looking spirit was critical to their survival both on the raft and off.

Charlotte Wood, Stone Yard Devotional ***

Stone Yard Devotional is the fictional story of a woman who retreats to a small nunnery in rural Australia. She is an atheist but feels the need to seclude herself from the challenges of her job as a wildlife conservationist. The book appeared on several "Best of 2025" lists and was a Booker Prize finalist. 

The writing was not as meditative or introspective as I expected and hoped. The narrator doesn't focus on day-to-day life in the community nor on her lack of/loss of faith, and says little about the pressures that led her here. Two themes stood out to me: whether retreat or engagement is the better approach to challenging problems (like climate change or injustice); and how to live with regrets when the possibility of forgiveness is gone.

Stone Yard Devotional has a quiet strength to it, but its wisdom applies to subjects that I am not currently struggling with.

Meghan O'Gieblyn, God Human Animal Machine ****

A collection of essays about the metaphors we use to understand our relationship to technology (specifically AI), and how they are largely the same metaphors we use to understand our relationships to God and to the "disenchanted" scientific world.

Many "new" ideas are merely attempts to answer questions that we have inherited from earlier periods of history, questions that have lost their specific context in medieval Christianity as they've made the leap from one century to the next, traveling from theology to philosophy to science and technology.

The unanswerable questions we keep returning to are about subjectivity and understanding. What is consciousness? What counts as an explanation for natural phenomena? 

Despite the technical subject matter, O'Gieblyn writes in the classic style of personal essays, including first-person stories about her own struggles with the issues. Her style makes the abstruse topics feel relevant, although I sometimes lost the thread of her argument.

She makes thought-provoking connections; for example, thinking of consciousness as software running on the hardware of the brain is a modern variant of the mind-body problem, which in turn is a recurrence of the religious idea of a soul. ("The metaphor has not solved our most pressing existential problems; it has merely transferred them to a new substrate.") I was particularly intrigued by the idea that science struggles to understand subjectivity because the enterprise was designed precisely to eliminate subjectivity from our understanding.

 

Daniyal Mueenuddin, This Is Where the Serpent Lives **** 1/2

This Is Where the Serpent Lives is ostensibly a novel by the author of the excellent story collection In Other Rooms. Other Wonders. Like the earlier book, it provides a convincing portrait of characters from various castes attempting to get ahead as the old feudal society of Pakistan gives way under modern and Western pressures. Every detail contributes to a realistic milieu, from the choice of which language to speak to whether you accept your host's offer to sit down.

The book seems like a Russian story that takes place in Pakistan. The subject matter is similar, peasants and landowners, social stagnation and transition, corrupt officials and disappointed dreamers, characters with multiple nicknames and forms of address. Mueenuddin's writing style is extremely Chekhovian. 

While it purports to be a novel, This Is Where the Serpent Lives is actually a collection of linked stories that includes the title novella. The four sections share characters, but they don't enrich each other as they would in a proper novel. For example, the main character in "The Golden Boy" is the orphan Bayazid who eventually becomes the driver for the Atar family. Yazid is also an important character in the title section, but none of his adventures from the first section affect his responses in the last.