Science Fiction
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The Word for World is Forest
The award-winning masterpiece by one of today's most honored writers, Ursula K. Le Guin!
The Word for World is Forest
When the inhabitants of a peaceful world are conquered by the bloodthirsty yumens, their existence is irrevocably altered. Forced into servitude, the Athsheans find themselves at the mercy of their brutal masters.
Desperation causes the Athsheans, led by Selver, to retaliate against their captors, abandoning their strictures against violence. But in defending their lives, they have endangered the very foundations of their society. For every blow against the invaders is a blow to the humanity of the Athsheans. And once the killing starts, there is no turning back.
The Word for World is Forest
When the inhabitants of a peaceful world are conquered by the bloodthirsty yumens, their existence is irrevocably altered. Forced into servitude, the Athsheans find themselves at the mercy of their brutal masters.
Desperation causes the Athsheans, led by Selver, to retaliate against their captors, abandoning their strictures against violence. But in defending their lives, they have endangered the very foundations of their society. For every blow against the invaders is a blow to the humanity of the Athsheans. And once the killing starts, there is no turning back.
Editorial Reviews
"Le Guin writes in quiet, straightforward sentences about people who feel they are being torn apart by massive forces in society― technological, political, economic―and who fight courageously to remain whole." ―The New York Times Book Review
"Like all great writers of fiction, Ursula K. L e Guin creates imaginary worlds that restore us, hearts eased, to our own." ―The Boston Globe
"Like all great writers of fiction, Ursula K. L e Guin creates imaginary worlds that restore us, hearts eased, to our own." ―The Boston Globe
Readers Top Reviews
Simon C - Ipswich
This is the first book I have read by this author. Very enjoyable and thought-provoking and about the cause and effect of our actions. It is not her most famous book but it has given me a taste for her writing and I will be seeking out other titles that have been recommended to me.
Kindle Simon C -
Fiction can be a lesson for us all. Here is just that. Le Guin always makes us think. Sapiens comes from the Latin word for thinking. Perhaps it's time we started doing so?
BizzieKindle Sim
Interesting read - you can see where some of the Avatar ideas came from. Le Guin was a great writer, original and perceptive, you get bang for your buck here - a deceptively small novel that takes a while to read: meaty.
Brainman60BizzieK
Written in 1972 with the US war in Asia fresh in the mind, this short novel is about humans landing on a forest world inhabited by peaceful, intelligent green monkeys. Or short, green, furry humans, depending on your point of view. Deforestation starts, the monkeys are subdued and enslaved. Some of the women monkeys are raped. Some of the men are pubicly castrated. The monkeys are different, in that they have waking dreams and sometimes the dreams become reality. One monkey in particular, whose wife was raped and killed by a macho racist bigot soldier rebels and 200 humans are killed. From there, there is a tense stand off, with the humans having helicopters and fire power and the monkeys having numbers and the benefit of local knowledge. It's a quiet, thoughtful book. Definitely worth a read.
Todd O'RourkeBrai
"The Word for World is Forest" is a novel set in Ursula Le Guin's award winning Hainish Universe. Set chronologically after the events of "The Dispossessed" (they are both standalone novels, no need to read them in order) it is one of seven Hainish novels. Since the immense popularity of "Avatar" - a movie that blatantly ripped off Le Guin's novel - TOR reissued the novel in 2010. New Tahiti is a recently colonized world. Its continents are covered in lush forests, an ideal export product for a lumber-hungry Earth. Once the forest has been cleared, there should be plenty of land available to cultivate and further settle the planet. However, there are a few problems, one of which is the native sentient species, the Athsheans. They haven't developed technology beyond a primitive level, and are considered non-violent. In true to frontier spirit, they are exploited for labor and sex, mistreated and generally accepted to be just another resource the planet has to offer. Problems arise when the poorly understood forest ecology collapse in places where excessing deforestation has taken place. Erosion of the cleared topsoil causes many areas to turn into wastelands. Further problems arise when the natives finally respond to the provocations by the settlers and turn violent. The situation is quite a mess when representatives of the newly formed League of All Worlds arrive with a revolutionary new device. Le Guin's social commentary is pretty evident within this short novel. It contains references to the Vietnam War and some of the lessons learnt from it prevent the settlers from going on an all out offensive once the hostilities break out. There is also a pretty obvious allusion to the deforestation of Earth, and the hostility natives face when foreigners encroach on their soil. The settlers may be internally divided, however, the gap between them and the natives is even wider. Although part of the treatment of the natives is due to plain cruelty, in other instances, an enormous lack of understanding between the two parties causes problems. Le Guin shows the misunderstandings but also the unwillingness to believe that the Athsheans are just as intelligent as the settlers. "The Word for World is Forest" is not considered the best of Le Guin's work. Since I have only read two novels - including this one - and some short stories by Le Guin, I cannot attest to the level of her other work. What I can tell you is that I enjoyed the hell out of this novel. As with the other book I read by Le Guin, it took a while to understand and consume the whole of this journey. It took me a couple of days to process what Le Guin was conveying in her text. If you were looking for a "quick read," I would recommend that you look elsewhere. However if you are looking for a philosophical and endearing novel that comments on soc...
Short Excerpt Teaser
The Word for World is ForestBy Ursula K. LeGuinTom Doherty AssociatesCopyright © 1972 Ursula K. Le Guin
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7653-2464-1
CHAPTER 1Two pieces of yesterday were in Captain Davidson's mind when he woke, and he lay looking at them in the darkness for a while. One up: the new shipload of women had arrived. Believe it or not. They were here, in Centralville, twenty-seven lightyears from Earth by NAFAL and four hours from Smith Camp by hopper, the second batch of breeding females for the New Tahiti Colony, all sound and clean, 212 head of prime human stock. Or prime enough, anyhow. One down: the report from Dump Island of crop failures, massive erosion, a wipe-out. The line of 212 buxom beddable breasty little figures faded from Davidson's mind as he saw rain pouring down onto plowed dirt, churning it to mud, thinning the mud to a red broth that ran down rocks into the rainbeaten sea. The erosion had begun before he left Dump Island to run Smith Camp, and being gifted with an exceptional visual memory, the kind they called eidetic, he could recall it now all too clearly. It looked like that bigdome Kees was right and you had to leave a lot of trees standing where you planned to put farms. But he still couldn't see why a soybean farm needed to waste a lot of space on trees if the land was managed really scientifically. It wasn't like that in Ohio; if you wanted corn you grew corn, and no space wasted on trees and stuff. But then Earth was a tamed planet and New Tahiti wasn't. That's what he was here for: to tame it. If Dump Island was just rocks and gullies now, then scratch it; start over on a new island and do better. Can't keep us down, we're Men. You'll learn what that means pretty soon, you godforsaken damn planet, Davidson thought, and he grinned a little in the darkness of the hut, for he liked challenges. Thinking Men, he thought Women, and again the line of little figures began to sway through his mind, smiling, jiggling.
"Ben!" he roared, sitting up and swinging his bare feet onto the bare floor. "Hot water get-ready, hurry-up-quick!" The roar woke him satisfyingly. He stretched and scratched his chest and pulled on his shorts and strode out of the hut into the sunlit clearing all in one easy series of motions. A big, hard-muscled man, he enjoyed using his well-trained body. Ben, his creechie, had the water ready and steaming over the fire, as usual, and was squatting staring at nothing, as usual. Creechies never slept, they just sat and stared. "Breakfast. Hurry-up-quick!" Davidson said, picking up his razor from the rough board table where the creechie had laid it out ready with a towel and a propped-up mirror.
There was a lot to be done today, since he'd decided, that last minute before getting up, to fly down to Central and see the new women for himself. They wouldn't last long, 212 among more than two thousand men, and like the first batch, probably most of them were Colony Brides, and only twenty or thirty had come as Recreation Staff; but those babies were real good greedy girls and he intended to be first in line with at least one of them this time. He grinned on the left, the right cheek remaining stiff to the whining razor.
The old creechie was moseying 'round, taking an hour to bring his breakfast from the cookhouse. "Hurry-up-quick!" Davidson yelled, and Ben pushed his boneless saunter into a walk. Ben was about a meter high and his back fur was more white than green; he was old, and dumb even for a creechie, but Davidson knew how to handle them; He could tame any of them, if it was worth the effort. It wasn't, though. Get enough humans here, build machines and robots, make farms and cities, and nobody would need the creechies any more. And a good thing too. For this world, New Tahiti, was literally made for men. Cleaned up and cleaned out, the dark forests cut down for open fields of grain, the primeval murk and savagery and ignorance wiped out, it would be a paradise, a real Eden. A better world than worn-out Earth. And it would be his world. For that's what Don Davidson was, way down deep inside him: a world-tamer. He wasn't a boastful man, but he knew his own size. It just happened to be the way he was made. He knew what he wanted, and how to get it. And he always got it.
Breakfast landed warm in his belly. His good mood wasn't spoiled even by the sight of Kees Van Sten coming toward him, fat, white, and worried, his eyes sticking out like blue golf-balls.
"Don," Kees said without greeting, "the loggers have been hunting red deer in the Strip...
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7653-2464-1
CHAPTER 1Two pieces of yesterday were in Captain Davidson's mind when he woke, and he lay looking at them in the darkness for a while. One up: the new shipload of women had arrived. Believe it or not. They were here, in Centralville, twenty-seven lightyears from Earth by NAFAL and four hours from Smith Camp by hopper, the second batch of breeding females for the New Tahiti Colony, all sound and clean, 212 head of prime human stock. Or prime enough, anyhow. One down: the report from Dump Island of crop failures, massive erosion, a wipe-out. The line of 212 buxom beddable breasty little figures faded from Davidson's mind as he saw rain pouring down onto plowed dirt, churning it to mud, thinning the mud to a red broth that ran down rocks into the rainbeaten sea. The erosion had begun before he left Dump Island to run Smith Camp, and being gifted with an exceptional visual memory, the kind they called eidetic, he could recall it now all too clearly. It looked like that bigdome Kees was right and you had to leave a lot of trees standing where you planned to put farms. But he still couldn't see why a soybean farm needed to waste a lot of space on trees if the land was managed really scientifically. It wasn't like that in Ohio; if you wanted corn you grew corn, and no space wasted on trees and stuff. But then Earth was a tamed planet and New Tahiti wasn't. That's what he was here for: to tame it. If Dump Island was just rocks and gullies now, then scratch it; start over on a new island and do better. Can't keep us down, we're Men. You'll learn what that means pretty soon, you godforsaken damn planet, Davidson thought, and he grinned a little in the darkness of the hut, for he liked challenges. Thinking Men, he thought Women, and again the line of little figures began to sway through his mind, smiling, jiggling.
"Ben!" he roared, sitting up and swinging his bare feet onto the bare floor. "Hot water get-ready, hurry-up-quick!" The roar woke him satisfyingly. He stretched and scratched his chest and pulled on his shorts and strode out of the hut into the sunlit clearing all in one easy series of motions. A big, hard-muscled man, he enjoyed using his well-trained body. Ben, his creechie, had the water ready and steaming over the fire, as usual, and was squatting staring at nothing, as usual. Creechies never slept, they just sat and stared. "Breakfast. Hurry-up-quick!" Davidson said, picking up his razor from the rough board table where the creechie had laid it out ready with a towel and a propped-up mirror.
There was a lot to be done today, since he'd decided, that last minute before getting up, to fly down to Central and see the new women for himself. They wouldn't last long, 212 among more than two thousand men, and like the first batch, probably most of them were Colony Brides, and only twenty or thirty had come as Recreation Staff; but those babies were real good greedy girls and he intended to be first in line with at least one of them this time. He grinned on the left, the right cheek remaining stiff to the whining razor.
The old creechie was moseying 'round, taking an hour to bring his breakfast from the cookhouse. "Hurry-up-quick!" Davidson yelled, and Ben pushed his boneless saunter into a walk. Ben was about a meter high and his back fur was more white than green; he was old, and dumb even for a creechie, but Davidson knew how to handle them; He could tame any of them, if it was worth the effort. It wasn't, though. Get enough humans here, build machines and robots, make farms and cities, and nobody would need the creechies any more. And a good thing too. For this world, New Tahiti, was literally made for men. Cleaned up and cleaned out, the dark forests cut down for open fields of grain, the primeval murk and savagery and ignorance wiped out, it would be a paradise, a real Eden. A better world than worn-out Earth. And it would be his world. For that's what Don Davidson was, way down deep inside him: a world-tamer. He wasn't a boastful man, but he knew his own size. It just happened to be the way he was made. He knew what he wanted, and how to get it. And he always got it.
Breakfast landed warm in his belly. His good mood wasn't spoiled even by the sight of Kees Van Sten coming toward him, fat, white, and worried, his eyes sticking out like blue golf-balls.
"Don," Kees said without greeting, "the loggers have been hunting red deer in the Strip...
