Review: Koji Suzuki’s novel RING caused a sensation on its initial publication in Japan and - as well as selling millions of copies itself - it has been the basis for several television series, blockbuster films and a few volumes of Manga. To call the novel influential would be an understatement. Most people who pick up this English translation of Suzuki’s original novel are likely to be familiar with the story through one of its several film adaptations - the most successful of which being the version directed by Hideo Nakata (which was actually the second adaptation of the novel - the first was a made-for-television film) and which provided the basis for the subsequent versions. The story the original novel tells will be both familiar and unfamiliar to those people who have seen any film versions. While the basics are the same, the novel RING is also different enough in the way it tells its story to warrant a read from fans of the films.

Opening in a typical horror fashion with the final moments of a young girl who has been left home-alone by her parents, its with ease that Suzuki sets up a nicely unsettling mood. With a keen eye for simple details, Suzuki slowly builds up a sense of dread that doesn’t require much background explanation, but instead focuses on base fears - the fear of being alone, of being watched and of having committed an act that is irreversible. It’s clear from the outset that RING isn’t supposed to be a work of high-literature, instead its a pot-boiler that focuses on effectively telling its story and so often opts for the most simple and direct way of conveying it.

After the fairly typical opening scenes we are introduced to our central protagonist, Kazuyuki Asakawa. He’s a hard working man who seems to be a little self-obsessed as a result of always taking life very seriously. Eagle-eyed readers will notice that this is the first major difference between the films and the novel - all but one of the film versions have replaced the main protagonist with a female reporter. The effect of having a male in the central role is that the emphasis is placed on the ‘father’ figure - Asakawa is a married man with a young daughter called Yoko. While the films opt for the angle of the ‘mother’ figure, in the novel it is made blatantly clear that Asakawa is operating in what is a very male dominated world. Masculinity is a reoccurring theme and one which is also underlined by a key character who is present in all versions of the story, that of Ryuji Takayama. In this original version Ryuji is a much darker figure, a playful man who keeps his masculinity to the fore and who seems to walk the line between genius and madman. He unashamedly enjoys the idea of power and domination - symbolised most clearly by the fact that he professes himself to be a rapist. The emphasis on the male world and point of view means that RING unravels thoughtfully with regards to masculinity and gender relations - they’re constantly touched on through thematic and symbolic references to relationships, reproduction and sex.

Although RING can rightly be described as a story of horror and the supernatural, its narrative style is actually closer to the detective genre. Asakawa’s job as a journalist means that his way of thinking is that of an investigator, and the way Suzuki unwinds his story manages to slowly crank up the tension and atmosphere. The simple written style of the book and its awkward emphasis on the mundane helps Suzuki slip in important details early in the tale, elements which later prove critical. It’s a clever writing style and helps to sustain interest, even at the couple of times when the pacing drops to that of a snail. Occasionally the writing does fall foul of badly written passages, although admittedly this could be down to the translation into English. Luckily, the novels strengths far out weigh any of its weaknesses - the simple written style giving it a sense of urgency and immediacy - most obviously through its count-down time-scale.

While the film versions take a lot of the same information but use shortcuts to explain events in order to keep the pace moving, Suzuki painstakingly pieces the story together and uses Asakawa to mull over ever every little detail and theorise on the meaning of just about everything. Granted, at times it does slow a little, but it never becomes boring and its convincing enough to steer the reader through some thin plot contrivances. Interestingly, the main set-piece from Nakata’s film is missing in the novel - I’m talking about THAT scene - highlighting the type of visual additions that were made to take the novel to the screen. The novels strength is that it manages to flesh out character far better than in the film versions - for example, Sadako is given a full and detailed background and in many ways becomes a far more complex character. Without revealing too much, the book also comes complete with a surprisingly satisfyingly apocalypse-forecasting ending and works well as a stand-alone read - although it is actually the first in a trilogy of novels.

Koji Suzuki’s RING is a very effective pot-boiler and is definitely worth seeking out. Full of strong ideas and striking characters, it’s an obvious recommendation to fans of the films but, pleasingly, it also stands up as a strong pulp-fiction novel on its own merits. Although it’s inevitable to compare the novel to the films, that comparison is actually a little unfair as the film versions and novel tackle the (occasionally differing) story in unique ways. While it would be easy to dwell on its few shortcomings, there’s no doubting RING’s effectiveness in unrolling its narrative while building a memorable and unsettling atmosphere and, from this kind of detective thriller, that is all you could really ask for.

Score : 4 / 5