A haunted writer travelling to Tokyo for a wedding is dogged by omens: a ghost-raincoat story, a brother-in-law's death on the rails, and translucent spinning cogwheels in his vision heralding migraines. Drifting between hotels, bookshops, and a priest's loft, he sinks toward madness and suicidal dread.
Books mentioned in Cogwheels (9)
Inferno by Dante Alighieri: “I remembered the souls turned into trees in Dante's Inferno, and decided to walk on the far side of the tram tracks, where there was nothing but rows of buildings. [auto-translated]”
Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky: “To dispel this fear I began to read Crime and Punishment. But the page I happened to open was a passage from The Brothers Karamazov, and I thought I had picked up the wrong book. [auto-translated]”
Polikushka by Leo Tolstoy: “I lay down on the bed and began to read Tolstoy's Polikouchka. Its hero was a man of complex character, a mixture of vanity, morbid tendencies and ambition. [auto-translated]”
Tenkibo by Ryūnosuke Akutagawa: “"You don't seem to write at all. Though I did read 'Tenkibo'... Is that your autobiography?" "Yes, it's my autobiography." [auto-translated]”
Legend by August Strindberg: “On the second floor of Maruzen I found Strindberg's Legend on a shelf and read a few pages here and there. It described experiences not much different from my own. [auto-translated]”
A Dark Night's Passing by Naoya Shiga: “After he had finally left, I lay on the bed and began to read A Dark Night's Passing. The hero's spiritual struggles were painfully real to me. [auto-translated]”
Shakko by Mokichi Saito: “"I'm sending you the reprint of the poetry collection Shakko..." Shakko! I felt some unseen thing sneering at me, and decided to flee from my room. [auto-translated]”
The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky: “I began reading "Crime and Punishment" to ease this fear. But the page I happened to open was a passage from The Brothers Karamazov. [auto-translated]”
Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert: “Even when I picked up Madame Bovary, which I had read over and over, I felt that I was, after all, nothing but a middle-class Monsieur Bovary myself. [auto-translated]”