My father is a fish
My best friend is a little obsessive about reading the novel before seeing the film. Not so, me. I’m a bit more laissez faire in these matters. I saw and thoroughly enjoyed Tim Burton’s 2003 adaptation of Big Fish, and didn’t think too much more about it. Fast forward a decade, and I hear that a major, Broadway-bound musical is on the way. Now I know it’s time to return to the source material.
In the past, it has occurred to me that I have an overdeveloped sense of whimsy. I’m a middle-aged woman, for God’s sake. But I love this sort of light, heart-warming, and above all whimsical tale. Daniel Wallace’s debut novel charmed my socks right off! It is, first and foremost, a tale of paternal and filial love. The brief novel is told through the eyes of son William as he watches—four separate times—his father Edward dying. It doesn’t sound like an upper, I know, but Edward Bloom is a larger-than-life character.
All his life, Edward was a teller of jokes and tall tales. He’s the sort of character who charms everyone around him. And yet, as much as his father has always made him laugh, William feels that all the jokes and stories have kept him at arm’s length, and that he’s never really gotten to know his father. Now in these final hours, he seeks a deeper connection—all while a greatest hits montage of tall tales recounts Edward’s extraordinary, eventful, and one might even say mythic, life. Edward confesses to his son, “I wanted to be a great man… Can you believe it? I thought it was my destiny. A big fish in a big pond.” Later William acknowledges, “He’s just being him, something he can’t not be. Beneath one façade there’s another façade, and another. And beneath that, the aching dark place, his life.” By the end, however, each man gets what it is he needs:
“His illness was his ticket to a better place. I know this now. Still, it was the best thing that could have happened to us, this final journey. Well, maybe not the best thing, but a good thing, all things considered. “
In Wallace’s novel, it’s the journey, not the destination. The folksy fables that make up Edward’s life are as colorful and imaginative as anything you could wish for, and full of humor. And Daniel Wallace’s narrative voice is distinctive, as well as distinctly Southern. He has a wonderful, playful way with language, as with this passage: “This is what is meant by last words. They are keys to unlock the afterlife. They’re not last words, but passwords, and as soon as they are spoken you can go.” While Edward is more legend than man, it is William who is the emotional core of the novel. He’s what keeps the story grounded and creates resonance with readers. Everyone knows what it is to love (and feel frustrated by) a parent, and so the emotion William experiences is universal.
This was a fantastic introduction (15 years late) to a new novelist. I can’t wait for a chance to see the musical! It will be magical on the stage. It’s been years since I’ve seen the film, but Burton did a lovely adaptation. Many of the stories from the novel are recreated faithfully. Others are altered or created from scratch in the same voice. I was delighted to discover in the book passages that never made it into the film as well. Commenting on adaptation on his blog, Wallace noted that Big Fish was now a book, a movie, and a musical. He offered one final adaptation. Big Fish, the haiku:
He hides behind lies
and charm. I do not know him.
My father is a fish.