The Ring

( 49 )

Overview

In Germany engulfed by war and hatred, the  beautiful wife of an influential banker fell in love  with a German author. His Jewish heritage led them  both to death. The husband who survives her lives on  to protect her memory, and their children. And the  ring he passes on to his daughter, Ariana von  Gotthard, remains a bond of love between them.  Separated from her family, and unable to escape Germany,  Ariana is finally arrested. A...
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Overview

In Germany engulfed by war and hatred, the  beautiful wife of an influential banker fell in love  with a German author. His Jewish heritage led them  both to death. The husband who survives her lives on  to protect her memory, and their children. And the  ring he passes on to his daughter, Ariana von  Gotthard, remains a bond of love between them.  Separated from her family, and unable to escape Germany,  Ariana is finally arrested. A young Nazi officer  offers her survival and hope for the future.  Tragedy and a sudden twist of fate carries Ariana to  America, to a chilling deception, and a new life of  unfamiliar terrors. Her past seemingly lost  forever, her future uncertain, the ring she still clings  to is all she has left of her father and brother.  And in time it will become the bridge from her  past to her future.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780440173922
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 1/28/1983
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Edition description: Reissue
  • Pages: 480
  • Sales rank: 239,631
  • Product dimensions: 4.17 (w) x 6.87 (h) x 1.19 (d)

Meet the Author

Danielle Steel
Danielle Steel has become more of a legend than any one of her books, which never fail to make the bestseller lists. Something of Steel's refinement and gentility transfers to her prose as her heroines enjoy enviable triumphs over inevitable tragedies.

Biography

When it comes to commanding bestseller lists, no writer can come close to Danielle Steel. Her work has been published in 47 countries, in 28 languages. She has been listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the author who has spent the most consecutive weeks on The New York Times bestseller list. She has not only published novels, but has written non-fiction, a book of poetry, and two series of children's books. Many of her books have been adapted for television movies, one of which (Jewels) was nominated for two Golden Globe awards. She has received the title of Chevalier of the distinguished Order of Arts and Letters by the French Government for her immense body of work. In short, to say that Steel is the single most popular living writer in the world is no overstatement.

Steel published her first novel, Going Home, when she was a mere 26 years old, and the book introduced readers to many of the themes that would dominate her novels for the next 30-odd years. It is an exploration of human relationships told dramatically, a story of the past's thrall on the present. Anyone familiar with Steel's work will recognize these themes as being close to her heart, as are familial issues, which are at the root of her many mega-sellers.

Although Steel has a reputation among critics as being a writer of fluffy, escapist fare, she never shies away from taking on dark subject matter, having addressed illnesses, incest, suicide, divorce, death, the Holocaust, and war in her work. Of course, even when she is handling unsavory topics, she does so entertainingly and with refinement. Her stories may often cross over into the realm of melodrama, but she never fails to spin a compelling yarn told with a skilled ear for dialogue and character, while consistently showing how one can overcome the greatest of tragedies. Ever prolific, she usually produces several books per year, often juggling multiple projects at the same time.

With all of the time and effort Steel puts into her work (she claims to sometimes spend as much as 20 hours a day at her keyboard), it is amazing that she still has time for a personal life. However, as one might assume from her work, family is still incredibly important to her, and she maintains a fairly private personal life. Fortunately for her millions of fans, she continues to devote more than a small piece of that life to them.

Good To Know

Along with her famed adult novels, Steel has also written two series of books for kids with the purpose of helping them through difficult situations, such as dealing with a new stepfather and coping with the death of a grandparent.

When Steel isn't working on her latest bestseller or spending time with her beloved family, she is devoting her time to one of several philanthropic projects to benefit the mentally ill, the homeless, and abused children.

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    1. Hometown:
      San Francisco, California
    1. Date of Birth:
      August 14, 1947
    2. Place of Birth:
      New York, New York
    1. Education:
      Educated in France. Also attended Parsons School of Design, 1963, and New York University, 1963-67
    2. Website:

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

Kassandra von Gotthard sat peacefully at the edge of the lake in the Charlottenburger park, watching the water ripple slowly away from the pebble she had just thrown.  The long, graceful fingers held another small smooth stone, poised for a moment, and then threw it aimlessly into the water once again.  It was a hot, sunny day at the end of the summer and her golden strawberry hair fell in one long, smooth wave to her shoulders, pushed away from her face on one side with a single ivory comb.  The line of the comb in the smooth golden hair was as perfect and graceful as everything else about her face.  Her eyes were enormous and almond shaped, of the same rich blue as the bank of flowers behind her in the park.  They were eyes that promised laughter, and yet they whispered something tender at the same time; eyes that would caress and tease, and then grow pensive, as though lost in some distant dream as far removed from the present as the Charlottenburger Schloss just across the lake was distant from the bustling city.  The old castle sat timelessly, watching her, as though she belonged to its era rather than her own.

Lying on the grass at the edge of the lake, Kassandra looked like a woman in a painting or a dream, her delicate hands sifting gently through the grass, looking for another small pebble to throw.  Nearby, the ducks were waddling into the water as two small children clapped their hands with glee.  Kassandra watched them, seeming to search their faces for a long moment, as they laughed and ran away.

"What were you thinking just then?" The voice at her side pulled her from her reverie, and she turned toward it with a slow smile.

"Nothing." Her smile broadened and she held out a hand toward him, her intricate, diamond-  encrusted signet ring gleaming in the sun.  But he didn't notice it.  The jewels she wore mattered nothing to him.  It was Kassandra who intrigued him, who seemed to hold the mystery of life and beauty for him.  She was a question to which he would never know an answer, a gift he would never quite possess.

They had met the previous winter, at a party to celebrate his second book, Der Kuss.  In his outspoken fashion, he had shocked all of Germany for a time, but the book had nonetheless won him still more acclaim than his first. The story had been deeply sensitive and erotic and his seat at the pinnacle of Germany's contemporary literary movement seemed assured.  He was controversial, he was modern, he was at times outrageous, and he was also very, very talented. At thirty-  three, Dolff Sterne had made it to the top.  And then he had met his dream.

Her beauty had left him breathless the night they met.  He had heard of her; everyone in Berlin knew who she was.  She seemed untouchable, unreachable, and she looked frighteningly fragile.  Dolff had felt something akin to a shaft of pain when he first saw her, wearing a silky, clinging dress of woven gold, her shimmering hair barely covered by a tiny golden cap, a sable coat draped over one arm.  But it wasn't the gold or the sable that had stunned him, it was her presence, her separateness and silence in the clamor of the room, and finally her eyes.  When she turned and smiled at him, for an instant he felt as though he might die.

"Congratulations."

"On what?" He had stared at her for an instant, struck almost dumb, feeling his thirty-  three years shrink to ten, until he noticed she was nervous, too.  She wasn't at all what he had expected.  She was elegant, but not aloof.  He suspected that she was frightened of the staring eyes, the milling crowd.  She had left early, disappearing like Cinderella as he greeted still more guests.  He had wanted to run after her, to find her, to see her again, if only for an instant, to look again into the lavender eyes.

Two weeks later they had met again.  In the park, here at Charlottenburg.  He had watched her looking up at the castle, and then smiling at the ducks.

"Do you come here often?" They had stood side by side for a quiet moment, his tall, dark good looks in striking contrast to her delicate beauty.  His hair was the color of her sable, his eyes brilliant onyx looking into hers.  She nodded and then looked up at him with that mysteriously childlike smile.

"I used to come here when I was a little girl."

"You're from Berlin?" It had seemed a stupid question, but he hadn't been sure what to say.

She laughed at him, but not unkindly.  "Yes.  And you?"

"Munchen." She nodded again, and they stood in silence for a long time.  He wondered how old she was.  Twenty-  two? Twenty-four? It was difficult to tell.  And then suddenly he heard a peal of crystal laughter as she watched three children, cavorting with their dog, elude their nurse and wind up knee deep in the water, the recalcitrant bulldog refusing to join them on the shore again.

"I did that once.  My nurse wouldn't let me come back here for a month." He smiled at her.  He could have imagined the scene.  She seemed young enough still to hike into the water, yet the sable and the diamonds she wore made it seem unlikely that she had ever been unfettered enough to chase into the water after a dog.  He could almost see it though, with a governess in starched uniform and cap berating her from the shore.  And when would that have been? 1920? 1915? It seemed light-  years away from his own pursuits at that time.  In those years he had been struggling to manage school and work at the same time, helping his parents at the bakery every morning before school and for long hours every afternoon.  How far removed that had seemed from this golden woman.

He had haunted the park at Charlottenburg after that, telling himself that he needed air and exercise after he wrote all day, but secretly he knew better. He was looking for that face, those eyes, the golden hair...and at last he found her, again at the lake.  She had seemed happy to see him when they met again.  And then it became a kind of silent understanding.  He would take walks when he finished writing, and if he timed it right, she would be there.

They became spiritual guardians of the castle, surrogate parents of the children playing near the lake.  They took a kind of possessive joy in their surroundings, telling each other stories of their childhood, and each listening to the other tell about his dreams.  She had wanted to be in the theater, much to her father's horror, but it had always been her private dream.  She understood perfectly that it would never happen, but now and then she dreamed that in her later years she would write a play.  She was always fascinated when he spoke of his writing, how he had started, what it felt like when his first book became a success.  The fame still didn't seem quite real to him, and perhaps it never would.  It had been five years since his first successful novel, seven years since he had left Munich and come to Berlin, three years since he'd bought the Bugatti, two since the beautiful old house in Charlottenburg had become his...and still none of it was quite real.  Not quite believing it all kept him youthful, and kept the look of delight and astonishment in his eyes.  Dolff Sterne was not blasÈ yet, not about life, or writing, and least of all about her.

She was enchanted as she listened.  Listening to him talk about his books, she felt the stories come alive, the characters become real; and being with him, she felt herself come alive again, too.  And week after week as they met, he saw the fear in her eyes grow dimmer.  There was something different about her now when he met her at the lake.  Something funny and young and delicious.

"Do you have any idea how much I like you, Kassandra?" He had said it to her playfully as they walked slowly around the lake one day, enjoying the balmy spring breeze.

"Are you going to write a book about me, then?"

"Should l?"

But she lowered the lavender eyes for a moment and then, looking back up at him, shook her head.  "Hardly.  There wouldn't be anything to say.  No victories, no successes, no accomplishments.  Nothing at all."

His eyes held hers for a long moment, the lavender and the black saying words that could not yet be said.  "Is that what you think?"

"It's what is true.  I was born into my life and I will die out of my life. And in between I will wear a great many lovely dresses, go to a thousand proper dinners, listen to countless well-  sung operas...and that, my friend, is all." At twenty-  nine, she already sounded as though she had lost hope...hope of life ever being any different.

"And your play?"

She shrugged.  They both knew the answer.  She was a prisoner in a diamond cage.  And then, smiling up at him, she laughed again.  "So, my only hope for fame and glory is for you to make something up for me, put me in a novel, and turn me into some exotic character in your head." That much he had already done, but he didn't quite dare tell her.  Not yet.  Instead he played the game with her, tucking her hand into his arm.

"All right.  In that case, let's at least do it to your liking.  What would you like to be? What seems to you suitably exotic? A spy? A woman surgeon? The mistress of a very famous man?"

She made a face and laughed at him.  "How dreadful.  Really, Dolff, how dull. No, let's see..." They had stopped to sit on the grass as she flung off her wide-  brimmed straw hat and shook loose the golden hair.  "An actress, I think.... You could make me a star of the London stage...and then..." She tilted her head to one side, winding her hair around the long, graceful fingers as her rings shone in the sun.  "Then...I could go to America and be a star there."

"America, eh? Where?"

"New York."

"Have you ever been?"

She nodded.  "With my father when I turned eighteen.  It was fabulous.  We were--"  And then she stopped.  She had been about to tell him that they'd been the guests of the Astors in New York and then of the President in Washington, D.C., but somehow it didn't seem quite right.  She didn't want to impress him. She wanted to be his friend.  She liked him too much to play those games with him.  And it didn't matter how successful he had become, the truth was that he would never be part of that world.  They both knew it.  It was something they never discussed.

"You were what?" He had been watching her, his lean, handsome face close to hers.

"We were in love with New York.  At least I was."  She sighed and looked wistfully at their lake.

"Is it anything like Berlin?"

She shook her head, squinting, as though to make the Charlottenburger Schloss disappear.  "No, it's wonderful.  It's new and modern, and busy and exciting."

"And of course Berlin is so dull."  Sometimes he couldn't help laughing at her. To him, Berlin was still all of those things she had said about New York.

"You're teasing me." There was reproach in her voice, but not in her eyes.  She enjoyed being with him.  She loved the ritual of their afternoon walks.  More and more now, she escaped the fetters and restrictions of her daily obligations and came to meet him in the park.

His eyes were kind when he answered her.  "I am teasing you, Kassandra.  Do you mind very much?"

She shook her head slowly.  "No, I don't." And then, after a pause, "I feel as though I've come to know you better than anyone else I know." It was disturbing, but he felt the same way.  Yet she was still his dream, his illusion, and she eluded him constantly, except here in the park.  "Do you know what I mean?"  He nodded, not sure what to say.  He still didn't want to frighten her.  He didn't want her to stop meeting him for their walks.

"Yes, I understand."  Far more than she knew.  And then, seized by a moment of madness, he took her hand, long and frail, in his own, yet encumbered by the large rings she wore.  "Would you like to come to my place for tea?"

"Now?" Her heart had fluttered strangely at the question.  She wanted to, but she wasn't sure...she didn't think...

"Yes, now.  Do you have something else you should do?"

She shook her head slowly.  "No, I don't." She could have told him that she was busy, that she had an appointment, that she was expected somewhere for tea. But she didn't.  She looked up at him with those huge lavender eyes.  "I'd like that."

They walked side by side, laughing and talking, secretly nervous, leaving the protection of Eden for the first time.  He told her funny stories, and she laughed as she hurried beside him, swinging her hat.  There was a sudden urgency to their mission.  As though this was what they had been building up to with their months of walks in the park.

The heavily carved door swung open slowly and they stepped into a large marble hall.  There was a huge, handsome painting hanging over a Biedermeier desk. Their footsteps echoed emptily as she followed him inside.

"So this is where the famous author lives."

He smiled at her nervously as he dropped his hat on the desk.  "The house is a good deal more famous than I.  It belonged to some seventeenth-  century baron and has been in far more illustrious hands than mine ever since." He looked around him proudly and then beamed at her as she stared up at the carved rococo ceiling and then back at him.

"It's beautiful, Dolff." She seemed very quiet, and he held out a hand.

"Come, I'll show you the rest."

The rest of the house fulfilled the promise of the entrance, with tall, beautifully carved ceilings, wonderfully inlaid floors, small crystal chandeliers, and long, elegant windows looking out on a garden filled with bright flowers.  On the main floor were a large living room and a smaller one that he used as a den.  On the next floor were the kitchen and dining room and a small maid's room where he kept a bicycle and three pairs of skis.  And above that were two huge, beautiful bedrooms, with views of the schloss and their park.  There were handsome balconies perched outside each bedroom, and in the larger of the two bedrooms was a narrow winding staircase tucked into a corner of the room.

"What's up there?" She had been intrigued.  The house really was a beauty. Dolff had good reason to be proud.

He smiled at her.  He enjoyed the admiration and approval he could see in her eyes.  "My ivory tower.  That's where I work."

"I thought you worked downstairs in the den."

"No, that's just to entertain friends in.  The living room still intimidates me a little bit.  But this"--he pointed skyward from the foot of the narrow stairs--"is it."

"May I see?"

"Of course, if you can wade through the papers around my desk."

But there were no papers around the well-  ordered desk.  It was a small, beautifully proportioned room with a three-  hundred- sixty-degree view.  There was a cozy fireplace, and in every imaginable corner there were books.  It was a room one could virtually live in, and Kassandra settled happily into a large red leather chair with a sigh.

"What a wonderful, wonderful place." She was looking dreamily out at their schloss.

"I think this is why I bought the house.  My ivory tower, and the view."

"I don't blame you, even though the rest is lovely, too." She had curled

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 49 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(34)

4 Star

(9)

3 Star

(4)

2 Star

(2)

1 Star

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 49 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted February 16, 2006

    Unbelievably good at what she writes.!!!

    Danielle Steel----- I don¿t know where to start or what to say? I was in High School when I read her book 'The House on Hope Street' and fell in love with it... Now I'm 21 yrs old and joined the Army. When I was in Iraq my parents will send me her books all the time. So far I read 55 books but still cant keep up with her. All I can say is she is the best best and my favorite book is Johnny Angel.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted October 1, 2013

    Best of ds

    One of het best.......a must read!!!!""

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 25, 2013

    Zeus

    He looks wide eyed an he jumps over the fence highly and lands in front if her..you know you cant run from me..im one of the fastest horses in the world..he hears a gunshot..then a sleeping shot went in them and they got put in a trailer and the got driven to daisy res 1

    0 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 25, 2013

    Rose

    Runs in and jumps ofer a fence

    0 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 22, 2013

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted June 14, 2013

    i read this book just after high school and i was greatly inspir

    i read this book just after high school and i was greatly inspired. the author indeed deserves to be the world's best selling author. the ring is a great book

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 11, 2013

    Freaken awesome!

    Awesome!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I recomend it

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted February 15, 2013

    I feel in love with this book. enough said.

    I feel in love with this book. enough said.

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  • Posted November 29, 2012

    This is one of Danielle Steel's books that I really can't forget

    This is one of Danielle Steel's books that I really can't forget. so touching and inspiring
    :)

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 21, 2012

    Hard to put down!

    I really enjoyed this book. I thought it was sad and yet sweet. I wished the ending would have stretched just a little more to explain the twist in the end. I don't want to give anything away.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 11, 2012

    Great story

    Loved it she does a wonderful job of bringing the reader to long ago times. I will read this again.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 15, 2012

    Ariadne

    Ok

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 21, 2012

    LEO

    Atlanta its me. Ive been through alot. I cant find you any where. Where is atlanta? He cries out tears in his eyes.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 3, 2012

    Aragorn/meander/dwarfy

    Aragorn:sure. Meander:cookies!!!! Dwarfy:i like cookies.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 27, 2012

    The best book ever!!! "RING"

    I recall reading this book. In fact was my very first DS book. She indeed is the best writer. I am so glad she is still around to keep me busy with the rest of her great books. I also like her latest book about her life with her son. What a book! What a Great Mother. A must book for everyone to read.
    Now. Let me get back to my book. (Ring)

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 20, 2012

    BEST BOOK EVER!!!

    This book was unbelievable. It was sad yet so good with all the different characters and seemed so real with the accurate historical info. I love DS and her books. One of her bests!!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 16, 2011

    READ THIS BOOK, iT'S WONDERFUL!

    I have to say I loved everything about this book. You wil get swept into the plot and fall in love with Kassandra, Walmar, and Ariana.
    Ariana is a completely likable main character, You will cry and laugh with her and root for her to make it in the end.
    Also, the rich history of the book makes it that much better. It puts faces and names to things that you may have read about in your history books.

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  • Posted July 4, 2011

    The best book

    The ring was the best book i read. It was sad yet warm and loving at the same time.

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  • Posted June 4, 2011

    The Ring

    I saw the mini series back in the late 80s or early 90s. I enjoyed it then and came across the book again. I love this story.

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  • Posted February 3, 2010

    more from this reviewer

    Good Read

    I really enjoyed the story. It had plenty going on.

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