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. review “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 ursula k. le guin (1929-2018) was the celebrated and beloved author of numerous groundbreaking works, such asthe left hand of darkness, a wizard of earthsea, andthe dispossessed. the breadth and imagination of her work earned her six nebulas, nine hugos, and sfwa’s grand master, along with the pen/malamud and many other awards. in 2014 she was awarded the national book foundation medal for distinguished contribution to american letters, and in 2016 joined the short list of authors to be published in their lifetimes by the library of america. excerpt. © reprinted by permission. all rights reserved. the word for world is forestby ursula k. leguintom doherty associatescopyright © 1972 ursula k. le guinall rights reserved.isbn: 978-0-7653-2464-1chapter 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