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Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe

Cover of Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe

Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe

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Folksy and fresh, endearing and affecting, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe is the now-classic novel of two women in the 1980s; of gray-headed Mrs. Threadgoode telling her life story to Evelyn, who is in the sad slump of middle age. The tale she tells is also of two women--of the irrepressibly daredevilish tomboy Idgie and her friend Ruth--who back in the thirties ran a little place in Whistle Stop, Alabama, a Southern kind of Cafe Wobegon offering good barbecue and good coffee and all kinds of love and laughter, even an occasional murder. And as the past unfolds, the present--for Evelyn and for us--will never be quite the same again...

"Airplanes and television have removed the Threadgoodes from the Southern scene. Happily for us, Fannie Flagg has preserved a whole community of them in a richly comic, poignant narrative that records the exuberance of their lives, the sadness of their departure. Idgie Threadgoode is a true original: Huckleberry Finn would have tried to marry her!"
--Harper Lee, Author of To Kill a Mockingbird

"A real novel and a good one... [from] the busy brain of a born storyteller."
--The New York Times

"It's very good, in fact, just wonderful."
--Los Angeles Times

"Funny and macabre."
--The Washington Post

"Courageous and wise."
--Houston Chronicle


From the Trade Paperback edition.

Folksy and fresh, endearing and affecting, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe is the now-classic novel of two women in the 1980s; of gray-headed Mrs. Threadgoode telling her life story to Evelyn, who is in the sad slump of middle age. The tale she tells is also of two women--of the irrepressibly daredevilish tomboy Idgie and her friend Ruth--who back in the thirties ran a little place in Whistle Stop, Alabama, a Southern kind of Cafe Wobegon offering good barbecue and good coffee and all kinds of love and laughter, even an occasional murder. And as the past unfolds, the present--for Evelyn and for us--will never be quite the same again...

"Airplanes and television have removed the Threadgoodes from the Southern scene. Happily for us, Fannie Flagg has preserved a whole community of them in a richly comic, poignant narrative that records the exuberance of their lives, the sadness of their departure. Idgie Threadgoode is a true original: Huckleberry Finn would have tried to marry her!"
--Harper Lee, Author of To Kill a Mockingbird

"A real novel and a good one... [from] the busy brain of a born storyteller."
--The New York Times

"It's very good, in fact, just wonderful."
--Los Angeles Times

"Funny and macabre."
--The Washington Post

"Courageous and wise."
--Houston Chronicle


From the Trade Paperback edition.

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  • From the book

    THE WEEMS WEEKLY


    (WHISTLE STOP, ALABAMA'S WEEKLY BULLETIN)


    June 12, 1929

    Cafe Opens


    The Whistle Stop Cafe opened up last week, right next
    door to me at the post office, and owners Idgie
    Threadgoode and Ruth Jamison said business has been
    good ever since. Idgie says that for people who know
    her not to worry about getting poisoned, she is not
    cooking. All the cooking is being done by two colored
    women, Sipsey and Onzell, and the barbecue is being
    cooked by Big George, who is Onzell's husband.

    If there is anybody that has not been there yet, Idgie
    says that the breakfast hours are from 5:30-7:30, and you
    can get eggs, grits, biscuits, bacon, sausage, ham and
    red-eye gravy, and coffee for 25 [cts.].

    For lunch and supper you can have: fried chicken;
    pork chops and gravy; catfish; chicken and dumplings;
    or a barbecue plate; and your choice of three
    vegetables, biscuits or cornbread, and your drink and
    dessert--for 35 [cts.].

    She said the vegetables are: creamed corn; fried green
    tomatoes; fried okra; collard or turnip greens; black-eyed
    peas; candied yams; butter beans or lima beans.

    And pie for dessert.

    My other half, Wilbur, and I ate there the other night,
    and it was so good he says he might not ever eat at home
    again. Ha. Ha. I wish this were true. I spend all my time
    cooking for the big lug, and still can't keep him filled
    up.

    By the way, Idgie says that one of her hens laid an egg
    with a ten-dollar bill in it.

    ... Dot Weems ...






    ROSE TERRACE NURSING HOME

    OLD MONTGOMERY HIGHWAY

    BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA


    DECEMBER 15, 1985


    Evelyn Couch had come to Rose Terrace with her husband, Ed,
    who was visiting his mother, Big Momma, a recent but reluctant
    arrival. Evelyn had just escaped them both and had gone into the
    visitors' lounge in the back, where she could enjoy her candy bar in
    peace and quiet. But the moment she sat down, the old woman
    beside her began to talk ...

    "Now, you ask me the year somebody got married ... who they
    married ... or what the bride's mother wore, and nine times out of ten
    I can tell you, but for the life of me, I cain't tell you when it was I
    got to be so old. It just sorta slipped up on me. The first time I
    noticed it was June of this year, when I was in the hospital for my
    gallbladder, which they still have, or maybe they threw it out by
    now ... who knows. That heavyset nurse had just given me another
    one of those Fleet enemas they're so fond of over there when I
    noticed what they had on my arm. It was a white band that said:
    Mrs. Cleo Threadgoode ... an eighty-six-year-old woman.
    Imagine that!

    "When I got back home, I told my friend Mrs. Otis, I guess the
    only thing left for us to do is to sit around and get ready to croak....
    She said she preferred the term pass over to the
    other side. Poor thing, I didn't have the heart to tell her that no
    matter what you call it, we're all gonna croak, just the same ...

    "It's funny, when you're a child you think time will never go by,
    but when you hit about twenty, time passes like you're on the fast
    train to Memphis. I guess life just slips up on everybody. It sure
    did on me. One day I was a little girl and the next I was a grown
    woman, with bosoms and hair on my private parts. I missed the
    whole thing. But then, I never was too smart in school or otherwise ...

    "Mrs. Otis and I are from Whistle Stop, a little town about ten
    miles from here, out by the railroad yards.... She's lived down the
    street from...

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