Tad Williams has steadily worked his way through the various, standard incarnations of genre fiction: anthropomorphism (Tailchaser's Song), multivolume epic quest fantasy (Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn), sci fi/cyberpunk/science fantasy saga (Otherland), short fiction ("The Burning Man", among others) and even a noble, if ultimately financially unsuccessful attempt at online self publishing (Shadwomarch.)

And he has done well with each of these vastly different forms, proving himself a versatile—albeit a bit verbose—writer. But could he really pull off a project that involved such diverse elements as a wannabe rock star, interdimensional travel, dynastic wars, social commentary, and fairies (yes, fairies!)—all in a single volume? Given his tendencies (To Green Angel Tower, Book 3 of Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn, was so hefty it had to be split into two paperbacks) I was skeptical.

I needn't have been.

War of the Flowers is a very good book. It's dark, it's quirky, it's well paced, and at spots, it's damn funny. It is also by turns terrifying, puzzling, and incredibly thought provoking.

Our Hero this time out is Theo Villmos, the wannabe rock star mentioned above. Theo's a well-drawn character, but Williams' skill in writing isn't the only reason readers will connect with Theo. It's because you already know him. Everyone knows a Theo or two: a bright, talented, oh-so-very-promising young man who should have become a somebody, but instead is still knocking around in dead end jobs and bar bands at thirty, with nothing much to his name except his bike. Having managed to "get by" on charm and potential his whole life, and having managed to avoid putting any real effort into anything, Theo is completely unprepared when his life begins to fall apart.

First, his pregnant girlfriend has a miscarriage. Then, while still recovering in the hospital, she breaks up with him and kicks him out of her house. Broke and only marginally employed as a delivery person for a florist (what else?), Theo has no choice but to move back in with his distant, detached mother.

But things can always get worse, as Theo discovers when his mother dies suddenly, from pancreatic cancer. Devastated and now completely alone, Theo decides to take a little time to get his act together and retreats to a family cabin. While there, he passes the time reading what he thinks is the manuscript of a fantasy novel, penned by his eccentric Great Uncle Eammon. In it, Eammon describes adventures in another land, a land of fairies. Oddly, the story is written diary-style, as though the fantastical events described had actually taken place.

Theo isn't sure what to make of the manuscript, until he's attacked by a corpse, rescued by a foul-mouthed fairy, and dragged through a gateway to the realm of Faerie itself.

And that's where things really start to go south on him.

The Faerie of Williams' imagining isn't the traditional Land of Eternal Summer, not by a long shot. Instead, it's an urban jungle; a dark, seamy society torn by internecine power struggles, poverty, racism, and all the other plagues of 21st century culture. Against this backdrop, the war of the title is being played out: a battle between two great Houses for ultimate control. And Theo, strange as it seems to him, is somehow a part of it—which is why House Hellebore wants him dead.

In trying to stay alive, Theo discovers secrets about his own origins, finds love, and finally grows up, something long overdue. If those sound like fairly standard fantasy plot elements, it's because they are. But they're standards because they work; because they touch universal chords in readers and resonate across times and cultures, and Williams makes good use of them. Theo's an engaging character, and makes a fine axis around which the various subplots spin.

But while Theo is the hero, it is his truculent fairy guide, Applecore, who steals the book. Tinkerbelle, she's not. In fact, Applecore has about as much in common with Disney's Pixie Dust Princess as Peg Bundy of "Married: With Children" has with Donna Reed—they're both mothers (or, in this case, fairies,) but that's about as far as it goes. Applecore, a redheaded bundle of temper with a mouth like a sewer, is one of the more memorable fantasy characters to come along in quite some time. If nothing else, The War of the Flowers is a must-read simply because of her.

The "ordinary human gets pulled into Faerie" device has been done many, many times. But Williams does it very well, turning what could have been just another humdrum underachiever-makes-good quest tale into a brilliant and often biting commentary about modern society. Jonathan Swift would be proud.

I'll give War of the Flowers four and a half doors: four for the story, and half a door of extra credit for keeping it to a single volume, because a good standalone read is an increasingly precious commodity in speculative fiction.