A favorite summer read, Big Fish by Daniel Wallace, and a look at the real Alabama filming locations you can still visit today.

by Ginger Stewart

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As we put the finishing touches on Pretty’s Summer issue (coming June 1), I’ve found myself thinking a lot about stories—the ones we tell, the ones we remember, and the ones that seem to grow more vivid with time.

Summer, after all, feels like storytelling season. Longer days, later sunsets, and just a little more room to wander—on the page and in real life.

We’re currently working on our summer reading suggestions, and as I’ve been revisiting old favorites, one title keeps rising to the surface: Big Fish by Daniel Wallace.

If you’ve read it—or seen the film—you know it’s not just a story.

It’s a collection of larger-than-life tales where truth and myth blur together, filled with characters who stay with you long after you close the book. It’s whimsical, yes—but there’s an ache to it, too. Poignant, beautiful, one of a kind.

What makes it even more special? You can actually step into that world.

Parts of Big Fish were filmed in my home state of Alabama, and some of the sets—most famously the town of Spectre—were left behind. A little faded now, a little weathered, they still hold onto that dreamlike quality, as if the story never quite packed up and left. It’s easy to picture Edward Bloom there, mid-story.

There’s something especially appealing about the idea of a literary-meets-cinematic road trip—visiting a place where fiction once took physical form, where imagination was briefly made tangible.

Years ago, when I was teaching, Daniel Wallace generously Skyped with my middle school students. He talked not just about Big Fish, but about writing, creativity, and the courage it takes to tell a story in your own voice. It’s one of those moments I’ve never forgotten.

So as we shape this summer issue, I keep coming back to that feeling: stories that draw you in, places that feel just slightly enchanted, and the idea that sometimes the most meaningful journeys are the ones that blur the line between what’s real and what’s remembered.

It’s a thread you’ll see throughout this issue—including a “Welcome” column we can’t wait to share, centered on a historic home that’s very much lived in today, yet still holds onto its own quiet sense of magic.

Maybe this summer is the perfect time to revisit Big Fish. Or to take a drive and see a story for yourself.

Either way, I have a feeling it will be worth telling.