Grandmother Fish relates the tale of the curious Little Black Fish in this classic work of Iranian children's literature, in the process exploring such concepts as curiosity and conformity, personal integrity and tolerance for diversity. Unlike the other fish who lived in the stream between two waterfalls, Little Black Fish was curious about the wider world, wondering where the water went, when it rushed away from his small, enclosed home. Despite his mother's pleas, and the ridicule of many in his community, he set out to find the answer to his question, leaving home and moving downstream. Along the way he met many different creatures, from fellow fish to lizards, encountering all sorts of prejudice and denial - it was not his community alone that rejected outsiders - but also finding some who were willing to speak with him, and answer his questions. Eventually finding his way to the sea, he was confronted with a terrible choice, and made a sacrifice that demonstrated he had learned quite a bit about how interconnected the world truly was...

Originally published in Farsi in 1968, The Little Black Fish is a story I have long been aware of, but only just recently managed to track down. For a number of years there has been a self-published English translation out there, and it was also translated in an abridged form in the 1970s. I believe it has also been collected in an anthology of the author's stories. This edition from 2015 however, published by the UK's Tiny Owl Publishing, is the first I have seen that presents the entire unabridged work in picture-book form, with the original award-winning artwork of illustrator Farshid Mesghali. This is cause for celebration! I found the story quite interesting, and can certainly see why it was read as a political allegory at the time of its first publication. Apparently it was banned in the Shah's Iran, and there are even theories that the author, Samad Behrangi, was killed by the regime. As always, I have to laugh at those who imagine that the world of children's literature is apolitical, or one solely of happiness and light. Leaving that aside, the tale itself is engaging, and while its didactic aims are clear, they journey narrative is sufficient to give the story interest on its own account. Mesghali's artwork is gorgeous, with bold sweeps of color and stylized fish and other animals. Recommended to those interested in Iranian children's books, or looking for more philosophical children's stories, with the proviso that this is quite text-heavy for a picture-book. ( )

Although the translator says Beh-Rang is from Azerbaijan-Iran, and other sources call him Azerbaijani, this turns out to mean ethnically and linguistically Azerbaijani but as far as country, Iranian.

People self-publish for a variety of reasons, and I don't have a problem with that. I wish, though, that they would run the manuscript by a professional proofreader before they published. There are enough problems here to intrude on the storytelling.

The little black fish is held up as a moral and developmental example. I can't say how good an exemplar he is of Azerbaijani-Iranian manhood. The story appears to be a classic. However, I can say that I didn't like the little black fish or admire his behavior. While the illustrations might tempt me to show the book to others, I can't see giving it to a child. These are not my cultural or moral standards, or the ways I want my children to behave. ( )