Big Fish

“On one of our last car trips, near the end of my father’s life as a man, we stopped by a river, and we took a walk to its banks, where we sat in the shade of an old oak tree … Suddenly he took a deep breath and said, ‘This reminds me…’ ”

In his prime, Edward Bloom was an extraordinary man. He could outrun anybody. He never missed a day of school. He saved lives and tamed giants. Animals loved him, people loved him, women loved him. He knew more jokes than any man alive.

At least that’s what he told his son, William. But now Edward Bloom is dying, and William wants desperately to know the truth about his elusive father — this indefatigable teller of tall tales — before it’s too late. So, using the few facts he knows, William re-creates Edward’s life in a series of legends and myths, through which he begins to understand his father’s great feats, and his great failings. The result is hilarious and wrenching, tender and outrageous.

Big Fish is the story of this man’s life, told from father to son, some fact, some fiction. But the result is a powerful and transformative act of storytelling, and one way to make amends with the bridge between life and death.