Fish, by L.S. Matthews suffers from a case of non-identification. You have no idea if the author is male or female (the copy I had from the library didn’t have the usual dust jacket with information about the author), and you have no idea whether “Tiger”, the main character, is male or female. For some reason, this bothered me. The book’s simple enough: a family of aid workers in a war-torn country need to get out and into a country friendly to their country (the countries aren’t identified, either), the border’s closed at one entry and so they have to climb over a mountain to another entry. The fish of the title is one Tiger picked up and carries throughout the journey. Which actually doesn’t take too long. Or is too hard. It’s not a walk in the park, but it’s not really devastating either. I think the book was supposed to be written as a metaphor for hope and faith and resilience. But I just didn’t get it.