The third quarter of our dissatisfaction
Kapitál
How do millennials find meaning in a consumerist life full of illusions and empty dreams? What do their books reveal about contemporary society, work, and identity in the age of globalization and burnout? The answers may surprise even the most skeptical.
Tom and Annou have everything. Creative work that fulfills them, a perfect Berlin apartment full of houseplants, which they rent out on weekends for such sums that it pays for trips to European metropolises. They spend weekends in cafes and clubs with friends and dream of discovering a great deal on accommodation in Sicily hidden from tourists, and of spending the gray Berlin winter there. Documenting everything on Instagram.
Marissa does not observe the world through a lens; she suffers on the front lines of the corporate hell of a Madrid advertising agency, pretends to work, hides in restrooms, binge-watches YouTube videos, and dreams that a car will hit her on the way to work so she can go on sick leave and live off compensation instead of returning to the office.
We laughed when Lena Dunham, through the mouth of the main character of the series Girls, Hana, in 2012, pathetically announced to her parents: “Maybe I am the voice of my generation. Or at least one of the voices of a generation.”
With the voice of millennial burnout in the greenhouse of late capitalism are definitely the novels Perfection by Vincenzo Latronico and Discontent by Beatriz Serrano. The characters live a dream: they have great careers, live in attractive metropolises, drink specialty coffee, and instead of descendants, take care of monsters in pots.
David Graeber would unhesitatingly label their work as bullshit jobs, but for Tom and Anna, work is not just a source of livelihood but their entire identity.
“...work plays an important role without being an obligation or burden. On the contrary, it is a source of growth and creative stimulation, a bass line to the melody of free time. … When they spill coffee, their first instinct is to press command-z.”
Marissa does not fool herself about her work. Alongside Graeber, Serrano admits inspiration from books like How to Do Nothing by Jenny Odell or Capitalist Realism by Mark Fisher. “My job is to be nice and sell bullshit in a pitch. I don’t sell red lipstick, but the idea that you will impress, that you will leave a lipstick mark on the collar of an attractive man. I don’t sell perfume, but the idea that your scent will be your signature, that you will make an impression, that you won’t be a gray, boring person who commutes two hours to work every day. I sell you hope that today, thanks to floral perfume, something extraordinary will happen to you.”
Both novels capture our generation’s relationship with the internet: the heroine of Discontent has lost the ability to read longer texts but plays YouTube videos in endless loops for food or sleep. The author of Perfection describes how our inner life is shaped by a stream of images we see online. “My sexuality is defined by pictures of how people have sex; my apartment is defined by pictures of other people’s apartments.”
The image of Tom and Anna’s perfect life dissolves gradually and subtly: Berlin is gentrifying, living costs are rising, expats competing for the same bundle of contracts are increasing, drug or sexual experiences are no longer so new or tempting.
“The line in front of Berghain seemed longer and their patience was running out.”
Discontent does not stem from a lack of options but from absolute emptiness and an inability to step out of beaten tracks. Vacations don’t help and only serve as a bandage for a cut. Of course, on a global scale, these are classic first world problems. True sobering comes with the refugee crisis of 2015. Germany opens its borders, Tom and Anna want to volunteer, but the only thing they can practically offer is to design a brochure for refugees.
Latronico writes with a cold, almost sociological detachment. Missing dialogues are replaced by detailed descriptions of interiors, processes, aesthetics, and inner worlds. Serrano relies more on black humor and aggressive honesty. Both aptly name the empty attempts at activism by their protagonists.
“...their social engagement shrank to using Uber only when it snowed, and always leaving tips in cash. They didn’t eat tuna.”
“In the next eight hours, I will embody the capitalist idea of feminism. Uber-woman, who can handle everything… a Sheryl Sandberg pupil who wants to break the glass ceiling with her stiletto heels and leaves the broken glass on the ground for a South American cleaner.”
Marissa’s existential crisis escalates with the request to prepare a presentation on how to be creative for a company team-building event. She handles it quite creatively: she spices up a banal TED talk with a pinch of MDMA in a shared drink. The subsequent investigation in the form of reply-all within the company’s email communication is among the best of absurd literature.
Whether you love or hate your life, these two books will make you feel seen. Not ridiculed, but understood. “My intention was not to satirize the superficial life of millennials – after all, it’s my life!” says Latronico in an interview for Guardian.
Perfection (coming soon from Absynt publishing)
Discontent (Vyšehrad publishing, 2026).
The text is part of the PERSPECTIVES project – a new brand for independent, constructive, and multiperspective journalism. The project is funded by the European Union. The expressed opinions and positions are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union or the European Education and Culture Executive Agency (EACEA). The European Union or EACEA do not assume any responsibility for them.