Set My Heart on Fire

Suzuki (Terminal Boredom) delivers an alluring if uneven tale of sex, drugs, and music. The action opens in 1973, when narrator Izumi is 23 years old and immersed in a drug- and sex-filled underground music scene in Tokyo. Izumi, a former model and occasional writer, is portrayed as sensual and nihilistic, addicted to pills and sex (“Each night I gave myself up to those white pills. Or into the arms of a man. I just wanted to be held by something”). At first, the narrative is as aimless as she is. The first half is bogged down by a repetitive succession of Izumi’s dialogues with her friends and lovers—centered largely on music, romantic interests, and casual philosophizing. It is only when Izumi meets Jun, the unstable free jazz musician who soon becomes her husband, that Suzuki finds her footing, and the second half is lifted by the penetrating and beautiful story of Izumi and Jun’s catastrophic marriage, along with her longing for the halcyon days of her youth, which leads to a profoundly bittersweet conclusion. Despite the bumpy ride, there’s a sustained appeal in the novel’s hard-up glamor. (Nov.)