title: RINGS (Ring Trilogy)
author:  Koji Suzuki 
description: "The success of the 2002 American movie The Ring, a remake of Hideo Nakata's Ringu, has excited interest both in the original film and in the novel on which it's based. As in a classic ghost story, fate singles out one, often innocent character as a scapegoat. But the misogynistic society that persecutes Sadako and her mother must ultimately bear witness to its sin-or perish. Anyone curious in how the Japanese see themselves will find this book a fascinating, and ultimately highly disturbing, experience." - <i>Publishers Weekly</i><br /><br />" With the release of <i>The Ring</i> (and its Japanese inspiration) on video (and talk of a sequel to the American film), this novel is sure to be much in demand among both mystery and horror fans."- David Pitt<i>, Booklist<br /></i><br />"From its eerie opening to its chilling conclusion, this novel by the "Stephen King of Asia" will keep readers glued to its pages." -<i> Library Journal</i><br /><br />"But Suzuki is plowing a path that nobody else has traveled, as his 'Ring'-virus is born into an all-too vulnerable world. There are so many extremely clever riffs that never made it into either movie that readers aren't likely to notice how wide the road recently traveled is until they catch their breath and manage to look back." -<i> Agony Columns </i><br /><br />"Suzuki's ambitious trilogy does succeed, and it's hard not to be impressed with his aplomb in turning a straight supernatural horror mystery around into a piece of pure science fiction." - <i>TIMES</i>
zlib_text:  
    
  
  KOJI SUZUKI 
  RING
  (RING TRILOGY BOOK ONE)
   
  
  PART ONE - AUTUMN
  1
   
  September 5, 1990, 10:49 pm, Yokohama
  A row of condominium buildings, each fourteen stories high, ran along
  the northern edge of the housing development next to the Sankeien garden.
  Although built only recently, nearly all the units were occupied. Nearly a
  hundred dwellings were crammed into each building, but most of the
  inhabitants had never even seen the faces of their neighbors. The only proof
  that people lived here came at night, when windows lit up.
  Off to the south the oily surface of the ocean reflected the glittering
  lights of a factory. A maze of pipes and conduits crawled along the factory
  walls like blood vessels on muscle tissue. Countless lights played over the
  front wall of the factory like insects that glow in the dark; even this
  grotesque scene had a certain type of beauty. The factory cast a wordless
  shadow on the black sea beyond.
   
  A few hundred meters closer, in the housing development, a sing