Casual Shorts & the ISFdb Top Short Fiction # 30: The Word for World is Forest by Ursula K. Le Guin

Le Guin, Ursula K. "The Word for World is Forest." Again, Dangerous Visions, Harlan Ellison, ed. New York: Doubleday, March 1972.

This article is part of my attempt to read all the 155 stories currently (as of 1 November 2022) on the ISFdb's Top Short Fiction list. Please see the introduction and list of stories here. I am encouraging readers to rate the stories and books they have read on the ISFdb.

ISFdb Rating:   8.90/10

My Rating:        8/10

"Two pieces of yesterday were in Captain Davidson's mind when he woke, and he lay looking at them in the darkness for a while."

Humans are in the process of colonizing Athshe, a planet covered almost entirely with forest. Some settlements on the planet act as military bases and administration centres, while others act as lumberyards, like New Tahiti, where the loggers are clear-cutting the dense forest, preparing the lumber for a one-way trip to Earth. As with early colonial invasion on Earth, settlements have enslaved a number of Athsheans, or "creechies" as they are derogatorily called. Athsheans are small in stature and covered in green fur, and live what humans consider to be simple and primitive lives. Moreover, Athsheans are non-aggressive, have no recorded acts of violence against one another, no war of any kind, and live entirely in peace. They are forced to perform menial tasks under the administrative guise of "autochthone volunteers," and are looked upon as inferior and treated poorly. While a few humans are sympathetic to the Athsheans, wanting to learn of their rich culture, their world view and unusual lucid dreaming, to the point of befriending some of the natives, most are indifferent or downright aggressive toward the furry green beings.

When a female Athshean is brutally raped and killed by a human soldier, her husband begins an uprising, forever changing the nature of his people.

An undisguised anti-colonial novel that has been likened to a treatise on Vietnam, given its date of publication, as well as a statement on the founding of the Americas, really it can be read as a criticism of all forms of colonialism humans have experienced. "It's just how things happen to be," one human conqueror remarks early on. "Primitive races always have to give way to civilized ones. Or be assimilated."

Le Guin's sympathies, and the readers', are with the Athsheans, though she does give a broad range of character to the humans, from the caring Lyubov who teaches Athshean revolt leader Slever and essentially lays the foundation for his later vengeance, to the marine Davidson, a cold-blooded "virile" brute (Le Guin's words). From their names, humans are given international scope, as we have colonists named Muhammed, Juju and Raj, and so forth, yet Davidson is the only one given a nationality, as he is born in Cleveland, so the unsympathetic virile colonial brute is an American. With "hoppers" he and his group of loyal followers try to mow down the "creechies" in their jungle, dropping jelly bombs that set the forests on fire. This scene is a portrait of the American war in Vietnam.

My favourite section of the novella is Chapter II, where we travel with Selver among his people, village to village, and learn of their culture, of their dreaming and understanding of the world which is vastly different from the colonialists, with their own ideas of "dreaming" and their own notions of madness. In particular, a very different experience of killing and for the Athsheans, not knowing the concept of murder. This living directly on the land and a connection to its people can be a representation of North American Indigenous peoples.

Overall it is a strong story. The first half is, however, stronger than the latter sections, which were a little more familiar, and even Avatar-like (but of course precedes any Hollywood take on colonialism), and ends on a more realistically grim reality. The end made the work a little over-long, as Davidson's struggles just aren't as interesting as the Athsheans or their relations with humans.

Evidently Le Guin titled the story "The Little Green Men," and her editor for Again, Dangerous Visions, Harlan Ellison, pressured her to re-title it "The Word for World is Forest," which she eventually, and reluctantly agreed to. I like Ellison's title, which refers to the fact that the Athsheans have the same work for "world" as they do for "forest," and this title evokes their view of the world in which they live, as for them society is the world, and their world of Athshe is their single society. This point is also important as it is in contrast with the humans naming their planet Earth, which is synonymous with dirt. Le Guin's title, on the other hand, takes the classic idea of aliens from outer space, the concept of "little green men," and essentially humanizes them, which should be the objective when encountering a new people, rather than othering them.

For more of this week's Wednesday's Short Stories, please visit Patti Abbott's blog.

Casual Shorts & the ISFdb Top Short Fiction # 29: The Sound of Thunder by Ray Bradbury

Bradbury, Ray. "A Sound of Thunder." Collier's, 28 June 1952.

This article is part of my attempt to read all the 155 stories currently (as of 1 November 2022) on the ISFdb's Top Short Fiction list. Please see the introduction and list of stories here. I am encouraging readers to rate the stories and books they have read on the ISFdb.

ISFdb Rating:   8.91/10

My Rating:        7/10

"The sign on the wall seemed to quaver under a film of sliding warm water."

Wealthy Eckels joins a hunting safari that takes him far into the past to hunt a Tyrannosaurus rex. The guide warns Eckles and his fellow hunters to remain on the path they have set up, and to shoot only the dinosaur they have marked with paint. Any other action, no matter how infinitesimal, can change the future.

Bradbury plays with the theory of the butterfly effect to exaggeration, and as expected, Eckels strays off the marked path. This slight action infuriates the guides, as they fear nothing more than to change the course of history, and even threaten to leave Eckels behind. As expected, great change in the far future of 2055 awaits our time travellers.

So many variations of this story have been published over the years that it has become too familiar. Yet in the vein of predictable dated Bradbury, it is nonetheless a good story. I particularly like his use of the titular sound of thunder as it unites the threat of the distant past with the threat of the changed future. Of greater impact than a massive, threatening monster, is awakening in a world that has completely changed. I also like that Bradbury takes the time to explain the certainty of why the death of the hunted animal will not affect the future. Far-fetched, sure, but that he takes the time to close this potential hole with logical reasoning is great.

The original Collier's included a nice, and nicely accurate, illustration for the story by Frederick "Fritz" Siebel.

In 2005, a movie adaptation was released, The Sound of Thunder, directed by Peter Hyams. I have not seen it, nor do I particularly wish to.

Casual Shorts & the ISFdb Top Short Fiction # 28: The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas by Ursula K. Leguin

Leguin, Ursula K. "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas." New Dimensions 3, Robert Silverberg, ed. New York: Doubleday, October 1973.

This article is part of my attempt to read all the 155 stories currently (as of 1 November 2022) on the ISFdb's Top Short Fiction list. Please see the introduction and list of stories here. I am encouraging readers to rate the stories and books they have read on the ISFdb.

ISFdb Rating:   8.93/10

My Rating:        9/10

"With a clamor of bells that set the swallows soaring, the Festival of Summer came to the city
Omelas, bright-towered by the sea."

The land of Omelas is a beautiful utopia, where all the inhabitants are happy. All except for one child who is locked away and neglected. It is the abuse of this child that is the cost for all others to be happy.

An effective take on the moral conundrum of one person's eternal suffering resulting in the happiness of the multitude. The story presents a moral thought experiment: Can we allow a single individual to exist in perpetual squalor, to be tortured and shunned and isolated from all others, so that all others can live in peace and plenty? And yet the story moves beyond thought and debate, as Le Guin appears to be giving the reader an answer.

In Le Guin's version of the debate, the idyll is a seaside village celebrating its summer festival, while a child is locked away in the dark and damp of a broom closet. Le Guin's narrator reports on the village activities, and after painting the utopian picture, tells of the child. This is followed by the varying responses of the villagers to the child. The narrator's tone, though reporting, is not altogether removed. There is an underlying sense of judgement, and the voice indicates that the people of Omelas are, in effect, just like the reader, average people with a certain level of intelligence.

There is also a dark underlying element. These intelligent people, for the most part, do nothing for the child, and accept the word that the child's suffering is in effect their happiness, and yet there is no proof given, neither concrete nor heresy, that freeing the child would result in suffering for Omelas. The narrator tells it as fact, and we, like the citizens of Omelas, are expected to accept it as such, like the traditional stoning of Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" and other truths or realities whose origins have been lost, and whose practices should be questioned.

Moreover, the narrator tells us early in the story that not only are these people intelligent, but "there is no guilt in Omelas." The idyll in Omelas includes not just material comforts, but the added benefit of being guilt-free. We are also informed that everyone in Omelas, as soon as they reach a certain age, are informed of the child and of the reason for its captivity, and moreover, are allowed to visit and witness the child's suffering in person. The citizens of Omelas are not morally upset by the captivity of the child, or if upset, they quickly accept the situation and move on: "Their tears at the bitter injustice dry when they begin to perceive the terrible justice of reality, and to accept it."

(While the ending is not transformative, it is impressionable, and I must here discuss that ending. So if you have not read the story, please do so now.)

The ones who walk away refers to those who witness the child and, as a result, leave Omelas, never to return. No one knows where these people go, only that they are never seen again. At least not in Omelas. The ones who walk away presumably feel guilt, and cannot dry their tears and move on, and therefore cannot stay. They are the morally enlightened members of the society, and abandon all the happiness and material plenty of that world to walk away on their own. This enlightenment results in their self-banishment, as they would rather be challenged by the hardships of the outside world, unable to accept the wealth provided through the suffering of one child.

A powerful story, exquisitely written.

The short story has been a favourite of critics and editors over the years. It received the 1974 Hugo for best short story, and has been included in an impressive number of major (and minor) anthologies. There are the "Best of..." and "Greatest..." collections, such as The Best Science Fiction of the Year #3 (Terry Carr, ed., Ballantine, July 1974), The Hugo Winners, Volume Three (Isaac Asimov, ed., Doubleday, August 1977), The Best of New Dimensions (Robert Silverberg, ed., Pocket Books, November 1979), The Greatest Science Fiction Stories of the Twentieth Century (Martin H. Greenberg, ed., NewStar, October 1998) and Masterpieces: The Best Science Fiction of the Twentieth Century (Orson Scott Card, ed., Ace,  November 2001). Then there are the noted fantasy anthologies such as Black Water: The Anthology of Fantastic Literature (Alberto Manguel, ed., Picador, 1983), The Fantasy Hall of Fame (Martin H. Greenberg & Robert Silverberg, eds., Arbor House, October 1983; later reprinted as The Mammoth Book of Fantasy All-Time Greats), and The Big Book of Modern Fantasy (Ann VanderMeer & Jeff VanderMeer, eds, Vintage, July 2020). There are even anthologies for horror (Wolf's Book of Terror), female horror authors (Mistresses of the Dark), dystopias (Brave New Worlds), general literature (Thirty American Stories from the Last Thirty Years) and academic literature (Backpack Literature). And several others... It was of course included in many of Le Guin's collections, initially in her first collection, The Wind's Twelve Quarters (Harper & Row, October 1975). The story is also a staple in readings for courses on literature, sociology, and philosophy. And likely others.

For more of this week's "Wednesday Short Stories," please visit Patti Abbott's blog.

Casual Shorts & the ISFdb Top Short Fiction # 27: Kaleidoscope by Ray Bradbury

Bradbury, Ray. "Kaleidoscope." Thrilling Wonder Stories, October 1949. pp 129-134

This article is part of my attempt to read all the 155 stories currently (as of 1 November 2022) on the ISFdb's Top Short Fiction list. Please see the introduction and list of stories here. I am encouraging readers to rate the stories and books they have read on the ISFdb.

ISFdb Rating:   9.00/10

My Rating:        7/10

"The first concussion cut the ship up the side like a giant can opener."

A dozen astronauts are launched into space when their rocket ship breaks open. They are each hurtling toward a different direction and a separate destination, away from one another, with about an hour remaining before they can no longer hear one another. In a brief space of time they contemplate mortality and whether a life fully lived meant anything more than one that was not, now that they will soon all be corpses.

Bradbury is in existential mode. While this is not among his best thinking stories, it is nonetheless quite good. I did find myself more affected with the thought of spinning dizzyingly across space with not a shred of control--an absolutely horrific thought--than the idea of reminiscing and regretting minutes before death. Published in 1949, the story is as dated as one would expect, with a primitive take on space travel, and an all-male cast whose envy is aimed at the one man who had experienced many women and much comfort in his lifetime. With humans colonizing Jupiter, you would think their ships and their suits would be more advanced and better equipped, but in all fairness that was not Bradbury's aim. And humanity does not evolve as quickly as technology, and the main idea is still relevant and will continue to remain relevant as our rocket ships continue to improve.

The title is well thought out. It refers to the image of one of the astronauts carried off by a small meteor shower and the metal and rock that surround him. Yet it refers simultaneously to the kaleidoscopic view of one's life, that it can be viewed at different angles and can contain beauty regardless of its experience.

Bradbury's prose is distracting, His overuse of similes (the opening brief three-sentence paragraph contains three similes, with another close behind, and then another, like a barrage of meteorites, or like thoughts flashing quickly through one's mind, or like...). 

Not my favourite Bradbury (though it's his highest ranked on the ISFdb), but nonetheless a solid story, well worth reading..

"Kaleidoscope" was among the stories selected for inclusion in Bradbury's famed The Illustrated Man. It has been reprinted excessively over the years.

Casual Shorts & the ISFdb Top Short Fiction # 26: Enemy Mine by Barry B. Longyear

Longyear, Barry B. "Enemy Mine." Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine, September 1979.

This article is part of my attempt to read all the 155 stories currently (as of 1 November 2022) on the ISFdb's Top Short Fiction list. Please see the introduction and list of stories here. I am encouraging readers to rate the stories and books they have read on the ISFdb.

ISFdb Rating:   9.00/10

My Rating:        9/10

"The Dracon's three-fingered hand flexed."

On an unexplored planetoid, a human and a Dracon (or "Drac") have crash landed during a battle between the two species. They must survive both the inhospitable landscape and their hatred for each other.

Reads like the premise of many a Hollywood script, and as expected, the two learn to work together and eventually develop a strong bond during their long months of confinement. However, unlike many stories that follow this plot-line, interracial or not, "Enemy Mine" has an engaging plot and is ultimately a genuinely touching story. The interracial aspects are strong, though they are to be expected (the racist human later experiences racism directed toward him when visiting Dracon society, etc.), but the friendship and commitment to another's cultural responsibilities is what I find mostly intriguing.

Along with hefty thematic elements, Longyear builds an excellent environment on Fyrine IV, the planet on which the two are stranded. The pair of enemies begin by struggling against the extreme elements, and then must build a life for themselves by seeking proper shelter, food and making clothes and other necessities with the little they have at hand. The details in which they learn to build and stitch are reminiscent of Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe, who also eventually discovers a companion. The story can be expanded by discovering more of Fyrine IV, and Longyear did expand the novella into a full-fledged novel in 1998 as "Enemy Mine: The Author's Cut," published alongside new stories set in the same universe, as The Enemy Papers (Borealis, 1998). I have not read the works but will likely do so at some time.

Another aspect of the novella that I quite like, though it is not discussed too much, is the notion that the war between humans and Dracs is for naught, as our human mentions at the story's opening that the battle was essentially pointless, in a part of space no one really wanted. This is elaborated later on, but only slightly, and we are to understand that the hatred between the two species developed from a chance encounter as they were each attempting to expand their species. Yet there is no value in that part of space, so the war is driven partly by pride, the desire to conquer and perhaps the need each species has to burrow unhindered into deeper space. One thing we discover later in the story is that Dracons and humans are, despite their obvious differences, essentially the same species. Like humans they tend to other those who are unlike them, placing themselves on a higher rung. They have religion, a kind of caste system, and a knack for bureaucracy. Not entirely original, but it serves to drive home much of the story's thematic concerns.

"Enemy Mine" swept the novella awards for stories published in 1979, being awarded the Hugo, the Nebula and the Locus in the novella category. Six years following its publication it was released as a major motion picture, Enemy Mine (1985), directed by Wolfgang Petersen, and starring Dennis Quaid and Louis Gossett, Jr. I first watched the movie, in French, around 1987 or '88 with my brother, and read the novella not too long afterwards in the anthology Nebula Winners Fifteen (ed. Frank Herbert, Harper & Row, 1981). My brother and I both enjoyed the movie, and I loved the novella, so much so that I gave it to my mother to read, who, an avid reader, disliked science fiction. She too loved the novella, and may have shed a tear if memory serves. I re-read the novella a couple years ago and enjoyed it once again then, and re-read it yet again a few days ago, and it holds up nicely.

Casual Shorts & the ISFdb Top Short Fiction # 25: The Machine Stops by E. M. Forster

Forster, E. M. "The Machine Stops." The Oxford and Cambridge Review, Michaelmas Term (November) 1909.

This article is part of my attempt to read all the 155 stories currently (as of 1 November 2022) on the ISFdb's Top Short Fiction list. Please see the introduction and list of stories here. I am encouraging readers to rate the stories and books they have read on the ISFdb.

ISFdb Rating:   9.00/10

My Rating:        8/10

"Imagine, if you can, a small room, hexagonal in shape, like the cell of a bee."

In the distant future, humanity has reached a climax in their evolution, as humans have nestled into a stagnant existence. Some time before, people believed that it would be to their benefit to construct a great machine that spans the globe underground, and in which now are contained many cells that are home to individuals. Society is controlled by what appears to be artificial intelligence (as viewed in 1909), and humans are kept at bay: distracted by ideas, made to fear the outside, controlled birth and weaning, while babies born with special abilities, such as advanced athletics, are "destroyed." It appears the Machine is looking out for the interest of the people, but the people are instead being trained to worship the Machine.

People rarely leave their cells, and have access to an assortment of buttons, each of which, by being pressed, provides the person with their immediate need: feeding, bathing, communicating with others in primitive audio or video, listening to music, attending lectures, and so forth. Like today's internet, people can also access information, texts and music of the past. Thanks to the Machine (now capital M), humanity no longer progresses, and people pursue frivolous acts, seeking new ideas and preparing to share them with others either through private communication or public lectures. This pursuit of "ideas" is intended to prevent humans from accessing true Ideas--those associated with their existence. Like television and the internet which distract more than they educate, Forster manages to foresee a future that is close to today's reality. The story seems to have had a resurgence during the pandemic lockdown, as we were living in cells and pursuing frivolous activities.

The novelette focuses on Vashti, a woman content to be a part of the Machine. In a moment of pure irony, Vashti encounters the greatest form of ideas in the use of her imagination, as she views the clouds while riding in an air-ship: "Their shapes were fantastic; one of them resembled a prostate man. 'No ideas here', murmured Vashti, and hid the Caucasus behind a metal blind." This need to distance oneself from the outside world is an act of limiting thought and imagination. True progress is technological, not social, as "progress had come to mean the progress of the Machine."

Vashti receives a call from her son, who is interested in the outdoors and in the stars, concepts that make Vashti uncomfortable. Her son requests a visit from her, and reluctantly she agrees. In person, he admits to having committed a great crime: he has found a way to the outside world, and gave in to his need to pursue it, even though the act can result in "homelessness": being left outside to die.

An extraordinary story and well ahead of its time. The story appeared during a time of transition for dystopian fiction. We are moving away from the fantasy dystopias of Sir Thomas Moore, Jonathan Swift, and Samuel Butler, and toward more technological and science fiction dystopias. Forster apparently wrote the story as a response to the utopian fiction of H. G. Wells, who frequently wrote positively about technological advance, and believed that technology would bring much good to mankind despite potential dangers. Forster's vision is evidently darker. Later twentieth century dystopian novels have clearly borrowed or were influenced by "The Machine Stops." Forster himself was familiar with the precursors to dystopian fiction and early science fiction writing, and forged his work entirely around technology, replacing leadership with artificial intelligence and the dystopian hero who was an outsider and, with Forster, is now born into the dystopian world, rather than the Gullivers of the past who wander into their dystopian realities, whether they be lost lands or a present figure awakening in the future.

Casual Shorts & the ISFdb Top Short Fiction # 24: The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allan Poe

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Cask of Amontillado." Godey's Magazine and Lady's Book 33, November 1846; New England Weekly Review, 14 November 1846.

This article is part of my attempt to read all the 155 stories currently (as of 1 November 2022) on the ISFdb's Top Short Fiction list. Please see the introduction and list of stories here. I am encouraging readers to rate the stories and books they have read on the ISFdb.

ISFdb Rating:   9.00/10

My Rating:        10/10

Illustration by Arthur Rakham,
for Tales of Mystery and Imagination,
J. B. Lippincott, 1935

"The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could; but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge."

One of literature's strongest opening sentences launches the reader into the confession of narrator Montresor's horrible act of vengeance against the insulting Fortunato.

As with "The Tell-Tale Heart," Poe does not directly state the motivation for the need to commit murder, and we can only speculate as to what this single insult was to drive Montresor to commit the crime, when a thousand other injuries did not. While the "thousand" is hyperbolic, it is understood through Montresor's descriptions that Fortunato, a well-to-do elite Italian with pride and an ego, is capable of injuring others in an offhanded way. Fortunato makes flippant comments without thought, and is entirely dismissive of the only other person mentioned in the confession, another Italian wine connoisseur by the name of Luchesi. In the brief narrative, Montresor is able to portray the arrogance of Fortunato, who sits atop social circles and despite regularly committing offences, appears otherwise friendly and accommodating, so that his behaviour, kind or offensive, is simply his natural self. He may not have disliked Montresor and simply caused injury in the wake of his stumbling, not always sober path, via flippant remarks not meant to injure others but instead to uphold his own pride. And yet this last insult must have been a doozy, as Montresor reveals himself to be a man of conscience and, unlike the narrator of "The Tell-Tale Heart," of moral awareness. (More on this later.)

Montresor chooses to seek his revenge on carnival day, knowing Fortunato, a connoisseur of wine, would be inebriated and hence off his guard. He would lead the drunken Fortunato with the promise of some pure amontillado, a high quality Italian sherry. Montresor plays on the other's vanity, telling him he needs an expert to be able to identify whether he has purchased true amontillado or wasted his money on mere sherry, and plays on the man's ego by mentioning that he can instead seek the advice of competitor Luchesi. Clearly Fortunato is prideful and egoist.

In contrast, Montresor is overly sensitive. He refers to Fortunato as "my friend" and treats him as a  most beloved companion, though admits early that this treatment was part of his great plan. As they stumble through the catacombs, he says to Fortunato, "you are happy, as once I was," as though poking at him, insinuating that his own happiness left him at the moment of Fortunato's insult. A sensitive man, Montresor, who over an insult plots to kill a man, claims the insult is the reason for his unhappiness, and following the murder suffers a half-century of guilt. The man's disintegration is his sensitivity.

Despite leading Fortunato through his family catacombs, patiently and with intent, Montresor soon suffers pangs of guilt, and maintains that suffering for fifty years. After immuring Fortunato, Montresor is stricken with guilt over what he has done. "My heart grew sick," he says, just as the last stone of his plan has been laid. He attributes the feeling to the dampness of the catacombs, but the wiser reader is aware that the sickness he experiences is moral. Montresor concludes his narrative with: "For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them. In pace requiescat!" Rest in peace. This solidifies the notion that Montresor, though he acted cold-heartedly, is now burdened with remorse. As some wise critics have indicated, by walling up Fortunato, Montresor has walled himself up, as he narrates this tale half a century after the events, and in that half a century has been burdened by the guilt of his actions.

At the time of its publication, "The Cask of Amontillado" was not among Poe's most popular stories. In fact, it was reprinted only once in his lifetime (compared with at least ten printings of "The Tell-Tale Heart" between 1843-1845, or fourteen printings of "The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar, 1845-1849). However, it has become among the most anthologized of his short stories, finding its way into anthologies for young adults, as well as horror, crime and literary anthologies for adults, and anthologies used in colleges and universities. For a glimpse of its popularity over the years, visit the story's ISFdb page. Its growing popularity may be that the story needs a closer reading to uncover the narrator's guilt, which is where the emotional impact of the story lies. The emotional impact in "The Tell-Tale Heart," to compare, lies perhaps in the dichotomy between the narrator's love of the old man, and the passionate need to kill him, which is more readily available than the subtler heart of "The Cask of Amontillado."