The War of the Flowers [NOOK Book]

Overview

Theo Vilmos' life is about to take a real turn for the worse.

 

He is drawn from his home in Northern California into the parallel world of Faerie, for, unknown ...
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The War of the Flowers

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Overview

Theo Vilmos' life is about to take a real turn for the worse.

 

He is drawn from his home in Northern California into the parallel world of Faerie, for, unknown to him, he is a pivotal figure in a war between certain of Faerie's powerful lords and the rest of the strange creatures who live in this exotic realm.

 


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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
The Barnes & Noble Review
In this single-volume fantasy, Tad Williams takes a struggling 30-year-old musician named Theo Vilmos and throws him into a magical realm on the verge of war.

Theo's life is not turning out the way he had planned: His girlfriend recently had a miscarriage while he was out late, practicing with his dead-end garage band, when he should've been home with her. After she loses the baby, she promptly breaks up with him and kicks him out of the house. Hoping to get his life back on track, he moves in with his estranged mother, only to find her dying of cancer. Her death and funeral are a blur for Theo, who now has no family, no friends, and no plans for the future. While going through his mother's belongings as he prepares to sell the house, Theo finds a manuscript written by his great-uncle, a diary of sorts that describes a visit to the realm of the Fey and life in an industrial city ruled by powerful, immortal families.

Before Theo knows it, a fairy saves his life from a demon sent to kill him, and he is transported to the world his great-uncle wrote about. But he quickly realizes he is not who -- or what -- he thought he was….

While the subject of changelings has been explored numerous times, Williams keeps the theme fresh by incorporating his trademarks of wonderfully complex plot twists, masterful character development, and expeditious pacing. Highly recommended. Paul Goat Allen

Publishers Weekly
Travel into another dimension is a popular fantasy ploy, but rarely accomplished with such humor, terror and even logic as in this stand-alone by bestseller Williams (Tailchaser's Song, etc.). After losing his girlfriend, Theo Vilmos, a singer in a humdrum northern California rock band, finds in his late mother's remote cabin an amazing if incomplete manuscript left by his eccentric great-uncle, Eamonn Dowd, about a fairy world purportedly visited by its author. Unsurprisingly, Faerie turns out to be a real place. Applecore, a short-tempered, red-haired sprite, abruptly appears before Theo just as a horrifying monster starts banging on the door. At Applecore's command, Theo swoops her up and pops through "the Gate" into a magical realm that proves initially beguiling, later strange and finally deadly. Ironically, Faerie is a distorted image of our own world, ruled by cruel fairy tyrants. The powerful classes, each named for a flower, wage war against each other, using colossal dragons as the equivalents of nuclear bombs. Theo discovers love as well as unsuspected secrets of his own birth and family. Williams's imagination is boundless, and if this big book could have been shorter, it could just as easily have been longer. The incorrigible Applecore continually delights, as in her comment on a famous J.M. Barrie character: "`If you believe in fairies, clap your hands'? If you believe in fairies, kiss my rosy pink arse is more like it." (June 3) FYI: Williams is the author of Sea of Silver Light (Forecasts, Apr. 9, 2001) and other titles in his Otherland series. Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.
Library Journal
Struggling rock musician Theo Vilmos has nightmares, a pregnant girlfriend, an aloof mother, and only one good friend-until the bottom falls out of his world, leaving him alone and down on his luck. His discovery of a book written by a long-dead relative launches a series of events that plummet him headlong into the land of Faerie and thrusts him into the middle of a political and social maelstrom. Hunted by the ruling families of Faerie, Theo finds an unlikely ally, a foul-mouthed sprite named Applecore, who introduces him to the complexities of life in another world. As his understanding of the realm's dark secrets grows, Theo becomes caught up in a full-scale revolution that could mean freedom for the downtrodden "lesser" faeries or a gruesome death for himself and, possibly, the end of his world. Williams's latest novel draws on the faerie lore of many nations, putting an intriguing new twist on old legends. Strong storytelling and memorable characters make this standalone cross-world fantasy the author's best work to date and a priority purchase for fantasy collections. Highly recommended. Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781101657645
  • Publisher: Penguin Group (USA)
  • Publication date: 9/5/2006
  • Sold by: Penguin Group
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 832
  • Sales rank: 194,371
  • File size: 2 MB

Meet the Author


Tad Williams has held more jobs than any sane person should admit to—singing in a band, selling shoes, managing a financial institution, throwing newspapers, and designing military manuals, to name just a few. He also hosted a syndicated radio show for ten years, worked in theater and television production, taught both grade-school and college classes, and worked in multimedia for a major computer firm. He is cofounder of an interactive television company, and is currently writing comic books and film and television scripts as well. Tad and his family live in London and the San Francisco Bay Area. You can find Tad Williams at tadwilliams.com. 
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Read an Excerpt

THE WAR of the FLOWERS


By Tad Williams

DAW BOOKS, INC.

Copyright © 2003 Tad Williams
All right reserved.

ISBN: 0756401356


Chapter One

CLOUDS

THEO felt a small flutter of guilt as he turned the cell phone back on, especially when he noticed he'd left it off for more than two hours, and was relieved to see that there were no messages. He'd only meant to flick it off for a few minutes, just to make sure there were no interruptions while they were tuning-the young guys, especially Kris, the guitarist, got really pissy about that-but things had started happening and he'd forgotten.

Johnny stepped over the guitar cases spread across the living room rug like discarded cocoons and slid open the door to join him outside. The fog had come down the hill while they had been practicing; the fenced patio seemed an island in a cold, misty sea.

Jesus, San Francisco in March. He should have brought his jacket out. Might as well be in Minnesota. "Hey," he asked Johnny, "got a smoke?"

The drummer made a face and patted his shirt pocket, then his pants pockets. He was small but he had long, strong arms. With his paunch and his shaggy but balding head, the chest hair climbing out of his T-shirt collars, he always made Theo think of the soulful chimpanzees in that Englishwoman's documentaries.

When Johnny found the pack at last, he shook out one for Theo, then one for himself and lit it. "Man, you never have your own."

"Never buy any. I only smoke when I'm playing."

Johnny shook his head. "That's so typical, Vilmos-you always get the easy road. I'm an addict, you only smoke when you want to-like, when you're around me. I'll probably be the one who gets cancer, too."

"Probably." Theo considered calling home, but he was going to be leaving in a few minutes anyway. Still, Cat was very deep into I'm-pregnant-and-I-want-to-know-where-you-are mode ... He felt another rippie of guilt and couldn't decide what to do. He stared at the phone, as perplexed as if it were an artifact of a vanished civilization.

"Your old lady leave a message?" Johnny was the only one in the band who was Theo's age but he talked like he was even older, unashamedly using words like "chicks" and "hip." Theo had actually heard him say "out of sight" once, but he had sworn later he was being ironic. Johnny was also the only one who'd even understand something as archaic as phoning home. Kris and Dano and Morgan were in that early-twenties stage where they just paged their girlfriends to announce when they were dropping by after practice to have sex.

"Nah. I gotta get going, anyway."

Johnny flipped his cigarette over the fence and out into the street, a tiny shooting star. "Just listen to the playback on 'Feast,' first. You don't want Kris's asshole to get any more puckered than it already is, do you?" He smiled deep in his beard and started peeling off the athletic tape he wrapped around his knuckles before playing because he bashed them against the rims so hard. Theo thought that he'd rather have scars than the pink, hairless patches that striped Johnny's hairy hands, but Johnny was a seemingly permanently single guy who hadn't had a date in months, so he didn't worry much about things like that.

Theo did. He was seriously considering whether it was time to cut his moderately long brown hair. It was bad enough to have turned thirty and still be singing in garage bands without looking like an aging stoner, too.

As it turned out, Theo spent at least another half an hour listening to the demo tracks they had recorded for "Feast of Fools," a sort of high-Goth processional that Kris had written, and over which the guitarist fussed like a neurotic chef preparing for an important dinner party. He had more than a few irritating things to say about Theo's vocal, wanting more rasp in it, more of an air of menace, the kind of melodrama that Theo didn't much like.

On their last listen, as Kris bobbed his close-cropped head to his own music, his expression oddly combining pleasure and pain, Theo had a sudden flash of insight: He's going to want to do the vocal on this himself-that's where this is going. And even though I'm a hundred times better, eventually he's going to get his confidence and want to do all the lead vocals himself And that'll be it for me with this band.

He wasn't certain how he felt about that. On the one hand, much as he admired the young guys' playing and Kris Rolle's musical ideas, it wasn't anything like his ideal band. For a start, he hated the name-The Mighty Clouds of Angst. It was clumsy. Worse, it was a joke name, playing off a famous gospel group, The Mighty Clouds of Joy. Theo believed firmly that joke names equaled joke bands, the Beatles notwithstanding. Plus, it just irritated him. Kris, Morgan, and Dano weren't even old enough to remember The Mighty Clouds of Joy, so why pick that as a name to parody? It smacked a little of white suburban boys making fun of earnest, religious black people, and that made Theo uncomfortable. But if he ever mentioned it, he knew they'd just show him that fishlike stare they had perfected, the all-purpose defense against hopelessly uncool parents and teachers, and he would feel even older than he did.

So when dial I wind up on the wrong side of that particular line?

He eased on his ancient leather jacket and bummed another smoke off John for the road-or for borne, rather, since it was pretty hard to smoke while wearing a motorcycle helmet. He looked around, feeling like he was leaving something behind. Lead singers didn't carry much in the way of equipment. The mikes and PA belonged to Morgan and Kris. Theo could walk away from the Clouds as easily as he was strolling out the door tonight. If he was good at anything, it was leaving when things got too weird.

If he did get forced out, would Johnny quit too? Theo wasn't sure how he felt about that. This was the third band he'd played in with Johnny Battistini, following the obligatory should-have-made-it-big disaster in which they'd met and the horrible cover band in which they'd marked time until hooking up with Kris and company. Theo wouldn't mind the downtime of looking for another gig, and God knew Catherine would be happy to have him home some nights, especially with the baby coming, but o1' Johnny B. didn't have a lot else going on in his life. Besides his record store job and the Clouds, in fact, John was pretty much the kind of guy advertisers made fun of but who kept their clients in business-an amiable lump who lived on take-out food, rented porn movies in bunches, and watched wrestling by himself.

Kris looked up from yet another playing of "Feast of Fools" as Theo reached the door. "You going?" He sounded irritated. Kris had gray eyes like a sky before a storm, the kind of eyes in which teenage girls probably saw things that weren't really there at all.

No, Theo wanted to say. No, I'm going to hang around here and stay up all night smoking dope and marveling at my own brilliance, just like you guys, because I've got nothing better to do and nobody on my ass about when I come home.

"Can't stay," he said instead. "I've got a pregnant girlfriend, remember?" And for a self-righteous moment he almost forgot he had left the phone off for two hours.

Kris rolled his eyes, dismissing the entire unimaginably boring subject, then punched the buttons on the DAT deck with his long fingers, rewinding the tape to listen to his feedback-heavy solo again. Morgan and Dano bobbed their heads once each in Theo's direction, which he assumed was to save the energy of waving. John smiled at him, sharing the joke, although unlike Theo he was going to stay and hang out with these kids a decade younger than himself, sharing bong hits and loose talk about a hypothetical first album until one of two in the morning. "Stay loose, Thee," he called.

Theo's ancient Yamaha started on the first kick. It seemed like a good sign.

The bedroom light was out but the television was flickering behind the blinds, which meant Catherine was probably still up. Even though she hadn't tried to call him, he had a feeling she wouldn't be too happy with him coming in after midnight. Theo hesitated, then sat down on the porch steps to smoke the cigarette Johnny had given him. The streetlamps made little pools of light down the sidewalk that ran in front of the dark houses. It was a quiet neighborhood in the Western Addition, a working neighborhood, full of people who watched Letterman or Leno through the opening monologue and then switched off because they had to be up early. A wind sent leaves rattling and rolling up the street.

I'm dying here, he thought suddenly. I don't belong here.

He had surprised himself. If not here, then where? What was he going to find that was any better? It was true that he never felt quite alive except when he was singing, making music-he often had the disturbing feeling that in his job, his conversations, even sometimes being with Cat, he was just going through the motions-but he felt sure he was past the childish dreams of being a rock star. He would be happy just to play club dates in front of live human beings every few weeks. No, this was what he wanted, wasn't it-a house, a grown-up life? It was certainly what Catherine Lillard wanted, and he wanted her. He'd been with her for almost two years. That was nearly forever, wasn't it? Practically married, even before they'd received the test results.

Theo walked across the tiny lawn to the sidewalk and flicked his cigarette into the gutter, then went inside. The television was on, but there was only a tangled blanket in Cat's usual curling-up spot on the couch.

"Hey, honey? Cat?" The kitchen was dark, but it smelled like she'd been cooking: there was a weird, spicy scent in the air, something both sweet and a little sickening. The windows were open and it was a nice March night, but the air inside the small house felt as close as if a thunderstorm were moving in.

"Cat? It's me." He shrugged. Maybe she'd gone to bed and left the television on. He wandered down the hall and saw that the light was on in the bathroom, but that was nothing unusual-Cat hated fumbling for the switch when she was half-awake of barking her shin in the dark on something left in the hall. He took little notice of the bundle on the floor against the far bathroom wall. It was the red smears on the side of the tub that caught his eye instead, weirdly vivid against the porcelain. He pushed the door all the way open.

It took perhaps two full seconds to realize what he was seeing, the longest two seconds he had ever experienced, a sideways lurch of reality as disorienting as a hallucination. Blood was smeared across the bathroom floor behind the door, too, screamingly scarlet under the fluorescents. Cat's terrycloth bathrobe, rolled somehow into a huge lump and flung against the wall near the toilet, was soaked in it as well.

"Oh my God ..." he said.

The bathrobe shuddered and rolled over, revealing Catherine's pale face. Her skin was like a white paper mask except for the bloody fingerprints on both cheeks-her own, as he found out later. But for a moment he could only stare, his chest clamped in crushing shock, his brain shrilling murder murder murder over and over.

He was right. But he didn't find that out until later, either. Much later.

Cat's eyes found his face, struggled to focus. A parched whisper: "Theo ...?"

"My God, my God, what happened? Are you ...?"

Her throat convulsed so powerfully he thought she was going to vomit-he had a terrible image of blood gushing out of her mouth like a fountain. The ragged sound that leaped from her instead was so horribly raw and ragged that he could not at first understand the words.

"IlostitIlostitIlostit ...!"

He was down on his knees in the sopping fingerpainted mess of the bathroom floor, the slick, sticky scarlet-where had it all come from, all this red wetness? He was trying to help her up, panicking, an idiot voice telling him Don't move her, she's an accident victim, but he didn't know what had happened, what could have possibly have happened, did someone get in ...? Then suddenly he understood.

"I lost it!" she moaned, more clear now that there was almost no air left in the cry. "Oh, Jesus, I lost the baby!"

He was halfway across the house to the phone when he realized his own cell phone was in his pocket. He called 911 and gave them the address while simultaneously trying to wrap towels around the outside of her bathrobe, as though she were some immense wound that needed to be held together. She was crying, but it made almost no sound.

When he had finished he held her tightly against him, waiting to hear the sound of the paramedics at the door.

"Where were you?" Her eyes were shut and she was shivering. "Where were you?"


Hospitals were like T. S. Eliot poems, somehow-well-lit wastelands, places of quiet talk that could not quite hide the terrible things going on behind the doors. Even when he went out to the lobby to stretch his legs, to walk off some of the horrible, helpless tension, he felt like he was pacing through a mausoleum.

Cat's blood loss had not been as mortal as Theo had felt it must be. Some of the mess had been amniotic fluid and splashed water from the hot bath she had taken when the cramps first started becoming painful. The doctors talked calmly to him of premature rupture of membranes, of possible uterine abnormalities, but it might have been Byzantine religious ritual for all his poleaxed brain could make of it. Catherine Lillard slept most of the first ten hours, face pale as a picture-book princess, IVs jacked into both arms. When she opened her eyes at last, she seemed like a stranger.

(Continues...)



Excerpted from THE WAR of the FLOWERS by Tad Williams Copyright © 2003 by Tad Williams
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Table of Contents

Prologue 17
Part 1 Goodnight Nobody
1 Clouds 23
2 The Silent Primrose Maiden 42
3 Descent 46
4 The Hungry Thing 67
5 Book 75
6 A Corruption of Moonlight 96
7 Woods 102
8 Runaway Capacitor 121
9 Visitors 129
Part 2 Last Exit to Fairyland
10 Larkspur's Land 147
11 A Disturbance in The Forcing Shed 166
12 The Hollyhock Chest 180
13 A Change in the Weather 205
14 Penumbra Station 228
15 The Plains of Great Rowan 254
16 Poppy 277
17 The Hothouse 300
18 Sidewalks of New Erewhon 307
19 A Holiday Visit 334
20 Among the Creepers 339
21 In Thornapple House 366
22 Status Quo Ante 375
23 The Shadow on the Tower 402
Part 3 Flower War
24 The Bus Stop on Pentacle Street 429
25 A Million Sparks 439
26 Losing a Friend 456
27 Button's Bridge 476
28 Goblin Jazz Bandwagon 503
29 The Hole in the Story 526
30 Family Matters 547
31 In the Bloom Years 560
32 Trendy Fungus 587
33 The Last Breath They Took 614
Part 4 The Lost Child
34 Interlude with Van Gogh Stars 635
35 A Sort of Reunion 648
36 Changelings 667
37 The Ebony Box 685
38 The Broken Stick 702
39 Stepchild 716
40 Strawflower Square 733
41 The Cathedral 753
Part 5 Fairytale Ending
42 Farewell Feast 781
43 The Limits of Magic 804
Index of People, Places, and Things 817
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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 21 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(10)

4 Star

(8)

3 Star

(2)

2 Star

(1)

1 Star

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 21 Customer Reviews
  • Posted December 9, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    strong satirizing stand-alone fantasy

    Minor league California rocker Theo Vilmos feels he is at the bottom of the food chain when matters turn worse when he loses his pregnant girlfriend. Thirty, alone, and his music going nowhere, Theo feels down. He decides to get away to relook the direction of his life that seems to be in free fall. At his mother¿s remote cabin, Theo finds an ancient looking tome handwritten by his weird Uncle Eamon about another realm, that of Faerie. <P>Soon Theo is shocked to learn Faerie exists when the sprite Applecore arrives at his abode. She escorts the reluctant musician through the gate to a magical land that quickly seems quite dismal to the visitor. War appears everywhere so much so that Theo feels his home planet seems relatively peaceful. While Theo begins to learn secrets about his gene pool, he falls in love, but this is a land in which life is not precious so he must show caution to survive especially when bombardier dragons attack. <P>This stand-alone fantasy is a great satirizing of current conditions on planet earth as seen through a looking glass mirror. The story line is extremely dark and grim yet often humorous as the plot shreds anything and everything of proud filled boasts about our compassionate great society. Theo is a fine character who serves as the center of the myriad of subplots, but it is the cantankerous, nasty Applecore who steals the show with her tinkering and editing of words of wisdom. A tad wordy, perhaps, but fans of Tad Williams, which probably includes Jonathan Swift, will appreciate this cutting faerie tale. <P>Harriet Klausner

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 13, 2014

    Not bad

    I enjoyed reading this book although found some aspects of it to be overly tacky and annoying. Sometimes I felt the speech to be contrived, forced and irritatingly 1990's or 80's. Why so much cursing? In the fairy, now and then, it's endearing. The plot though is very enticing and although the main character irked me, I did want to see how everything turned out.
    I read this book because I read Tailchaser's Dream. The author's first book is his best, fantastic for its simplicity, and ironically, humastic nature. I loved the spiritual explorations too. Not unlike the hobbit of the cat world. Lovely. Thank you.

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  • Posted February 12, 2009

    Renee Grivois: Gerau Center Student

    Summary<BR/>The War for the Flowers is a modern fantasy about a washed-out singer named Theo Vilmos. Theo doesn¿t believe in magic; he doesn¿t believe in anything. But when a monster crosses the border between worlds and tries to kill him, Theo realizes that it may be time to reconsider his beliefs. With the help of a Barbie-sized sprite named Applecore, Theo manages to escape with his life, only to find himself in a world that he had never dreamed existed: Faerie.<BR/>Literary Devices<BR/>The author uses a lot of detailed similes and metaphors to describe Faerie, which are necessary for readers who are unfamiliar with it, such as: ¿The towers of Faerie were like the ones back home in Santa Fe,¿ and ¿Her skin was porcelain of the finest craftsmanship.¿<BR/>He also uses many onomatopoeias in the action-packed book to describe everything from the clanging of swords to the sound of a hovering pixie¿s wings, like ¿whoosh¿ and ¿clang¿.<BR/>Best Part<BR/>The best part of The War for the Flowers is when Theo meets Applecore, because she is by far the best character in the book. He had always pictured sprites and faeries as being like something from a Disney movie. Applecore immediately changed that. Despite the fact that the sprite was only about six inches tall, she had more attitude than a stampeding rhino. She has the largest vocabulary of dirty words that Theo had ever heard and could consume almost as much alcohol as he could. But she was Theo¿s first and most loyal friend in Faerie, and without her, he wouldn¿t have made it very far.<BR/>Worst Part<BR/>The worst part of The War for the Flowers is when Theo¿s girlfriend miscarried their baby, because it¿s the part of the book where he¿s at his lowest. Even after being chased across a strange, mythical land, Theo never felt as badly as he did that night. To make matters worse, that was also the night that his girlfriend broke up with him, claiming that they had only still been together because of the baby.<BR/>Recommendation<BR/>I would strongly recommend The War for the Flowers to anyone who likes fantasy or science fiction, because the book is packed with everything from elf sword fights to time travel. <BR/>Rating: ¿¿¿ out of 5

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 10, 2006

    Another Great Novel by Williams!

    As a big fan of the 'Memory,Sorrow,Thorn Trilogy' I was worried that this book wouldn't be AS good. I soon found that there was no cause for worry. Although it starts a little slow, don't give up on it because it gets tons better and soon you'll find yourself not being able to put it down. Without a doubt, the best character has to be the sprite Applecore who will never cease to entertain readers with her ready wit and sarcasm(although main character Theo is enjoyable as well). Anyone who likes fantasy books should read and buy this one, it is FANTASTIC!!!!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 27, 2005

    Masterful Writer

    Tad Williams is a pro and it is delightful to surrender my imagination to his worlds. I've yet to feel his books a waste of time or money- something rare these days when the racks are so full of formula and imitation.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 3, 2003

    Very little magic

    Tad William's work has covered a wide range of themes in the genre of speculative fiction, from the superb sword and sorcery of the 'Memory, Sorrow and Thorn' series, to cyber-fantasy in the self-indulgent but richly imaginative 'Otherland' series. However, in 'The War of the Flowers' he appears to run out of ideas. The basic premise is sound, if unoriginal - principal character with mysterious past is whisked to another world (Faery) where it transpires that he is the only person in either world who can save both humankind and Faery from the bad guys. The end result, though, is a sort of 'Tom Clancy plus pixies'. The characters are one-dimensional, the dialogue hackneyed, and magic world of Faery seems to be designed along the lines of 'The Flintstones' or 'The Jetsons' - in other words, take conventional Western technology and social practices and transform them ancient/future/magical analogues. The joke wears thin very quickly. If you really want to see some truly magical writing, might I suggest Neil Gaiman's magnificent 'American Gods', or John Crowley's 'Little, Big'.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 14, 2003

    Awesome Book

    I am a major fan of Tad Williams and this book did not let me down. It is a perfect encorporation of old fairy folk lore and modern day science fiction. While it isn't as complex as Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn or Otherland (it's a stand alone book, whadda ya' expect) it is still a magnificent piece of fantasy. It is a remarkable story about a bum of a man who overcomes his own problems to become the hero everyone know he could be. If you like Tad Williams this is a must read book.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 10, 2003

    Unlike the goblin-stories of True Arden, there are no holes in ¿The War of the Flowers¿...

    While not quite as engaging and endearing as his absolutely spectacular ¿Memory, Sorrow & Thorn' series, Tad Williams has crafted a wonderful voyage through the land of the Fey. In the genre of the adult faerie-tale, ¿The War of the Flowers¿ rivals Neil Gaimans' ¿American Gods¿, surpasses Gaimans' ¿Stardust¿, leaves Stephen King & Peter Straub's ¿Talisman¿ in the pixie dust and stomps James Herbert's ¿Once...¿ mercilessly INTO the aforementioned pixie dust. And unlike the goblin-stories of True Arden, there is no hole in ¿The War of the Flowers¿.

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    Posted October 31, 2008

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    Posted September 29, 2009

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    Posted July 14, 2009

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    Posted February 28, 2010

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    Posted January 30, 2009

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