On Instagram, he teaches his 60K+ followers How to Pretend You’ve Read (Come Fingere di Aver Letto ) a whole range of books, from untouchable classics to the latest literary darlings. The kind of books you really should have read, unless you want to freeze mid-sentence in certain upscale social settings. But if you haven’t, fear not: hope is not lost.
Lorenzo Luporini uses the web with razor-sharp clarity, making fun and making sense at once. And he knows all too well what it means to “influence” and how to walk that very fine line where culture meets the algorithm.
REMIDA meets Lorenzo Luporini
L: First question. Have you actually read Normal People by Sally Rooney? I think you have…
L: I have, yes. Actually, I’ve read most of the books I pretend to have read.
L: So where did the idea come from?
L: It started with a friend and colleague, Anna, at the end of our previous editorial project Venti. We were looking for a new way to talk about books: one that wasn’t preachy or patronising, but fun. Something that, as the wise ones say, makes you laugh but also makes you think.
L: Would you call yourself an influencer? And what is one, really?
L: An influencer is someone who earns most of his income by selling advertising space on their social media channels. So no, I wouldn’t define myself as one, though it’s an attractive prospect, market-wise. My job is more like being a freelancer in the entertainment world: part of it is creating content online, but mostly I write: scripts, stand-up bits, formats. And more and more, I host formats too.
L: What do you enjoy most? From what you say, there’s a public side and a creative side we don’t really see. How do you balance visibility and privacy?
L: I’m a huge fan of formats. They allow you to be online without showing your personal life. That’s both a protective and a tasteful choice, in a way, because I’m not someone who naturally wants-to-share-everything-that-happens-to-me, unlike some YouTubers or creators.
My favourite things to do happen before the internet sees them. Like stand-up comedy, or Adesso Capiamo, a monthly live show where I interview people from the entertainment world.
L: Your book Una storia in Comune just came out. How did that happen?
L: It was a special, one-of-a-kind experience. It started with Fausto Colombo, an extraordinary Italian sociologist and one of the most beloved professors from my undergrad days, who sadly passed away while we were writing. I was looking for new material to enrich both Venti and my online work, so I asked him for reading tips. Instead, he proposed writing a book together about popular culture. That’s how the project with Mondadori began. It also became a beautiful intergenerational dialogue, between someone born in the 1950s and someone born in the 1990s.
L: The subtitle is “Perché la cultura pop racconta chi siamo”. Can you break that down for us?
L: I often borrow an expression from english language: pop culture is our common ground, the shared terrain where relationships take root. The book ends with a Christmas dinner scene, where tradition meets the modern life (blended families, multiple generations, cultural mashups). Pop culture is the one conversation topic everyone can talk about.
L: How would you define a “cultural product”?
L: To me, that is anything that comes from the creative industries. There’s no such thing as high or low culture: only well-made culture, and poorly made culture. And the only real test is time. My approach is pretty anti-intellectual, I’d say.
L: And your own “product”, what is his purpose?
L: If I may say so with a smile: absolutely nothing.
It’s a game, a layered one. For those who’ve actually read the books and spot the references. For those who haven’t. Even for those who hated them. If someone watches a reel and ends up reading the book—great! But that’s not the goal. That’s a happy accident.
L: What I see in your videos is a snapshot of society. A portrait of a target audience. Can culture act as a bridge, or a blade?
L: We live in a world of consumption bubbles. Algorithms have broken culture into small pieces, the gatekeepers of mass media are gone, and we now experience endless micro-niches. In the ’70s, there was one TV channel and one massive, homogeneus audience. Today, the most popular reels on my profile are about the big classics: Joyce, Kafka, Bulgakov. Almost like they burst those bubbles.
L: What makes something “pop”?
L: Its ability to cut across your bubble. When I watch a comedy bit, I ask myself: does this work in Nolo and in Lambrate and in Sassuolo? Sally Rooney doesn’t work everywhere, but she’s found the “Nolos” of the world. It’s not just about geography: it’s about class, politics. The Sanremo festival breaks the bubble because it becomes part of how we shape our identity. You’re part of the conversation whether you love it or hate it. It helps define who you are. That’s what the book with Colombo is about: identity. And the idea that there’s no such thing as an intrinsic Italian identity, only a collective conversation you choose to join (or not).
L: Last question. At the end of the day: why do you do it?
L: Good one. I guess it’s the closest thing I’ve found to playing games. Sitting around a table, inventing them, performing them.
We think Lorenzo succeeds exactly because he doesn’t try to. He’s not out to guide, or to teach. His games have no purpose, and that’s exactly why they matter so much.
Tell us what you think: supernova@remidastudio.com
