Set My Heart on Fire by Izumi Suzuki
The thrill of the Tokyo music scene of the 1970s meets the ennui of a protagonist getting through their 20s in this existentialist exploration of the modern condition
Set My Heart on Fire weaves the thrill of 1970s Tokyo’s music scene with the uncomfortable mundanity faced by a protagonist journeying through her twenties. Protagonist Izumi’s appreciation of music seems to sustain her long enough to tell this narrative. Each reference and amusement acts as a volta, a break in the passage, which re-energises her system when she most needs it, in the face of the constant modern anxiety that imbues this book.
The lucid drunkenness and humbling banality of Izumi’s twenties are encapsulated by vignettes which illustrate the comical, cringeworthy, frigid, and resonant moments in the protagonist’s experiences. Her alienation from others, even when so physically close to them, drives Suzuki’s relatable portrayal of the 20-something woman’s existential isolation. The mental gymnastics of womanhood appear increasingly universal, as the language of music.
Izumi’s discomfort, like her music appreciation, is everywhere. Beauty standards, social rifts, and the general awkwardness of being in this life stage are magnified. Sex becomes a currency rewarded with laxities disguised as niceties. Numbing pains using booze and men defines Izumi’s age of anxiety. As does attempting to sweeten that numbness, in searching for the ‘right’ man.
Izumi Suzuki innovatively encapsulates modern anxieties which are born of the standards of yesterday, and which overbearingly coddle the possibilities of tomorrow. Meanwhile, music offers freedom from this perpetual dread, and away from the burden of time.