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The Fathers
FROM THE SUNDAY TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF O BROTHER
In a busy maternity ward, first-time father Dan meets Jada, a dad welcoming his fifth – no, sixth? – child into the world. Dan and Jada come from very different both called Glasgow. Dan is a successful TV writer with a townhouse in the West End and a shiny Tesla ready to drive his wife and baby home. Jada is a hustling, small-time criminal who is already planning how to separate Dan from some of the luxuries Jada has never been able to enjoy in his tiny flat in a Brutalist sixties council block.
Both men find that the birth of their sons has fired their ambitions. Dan plans to walk away from his saccharine TV success and finally knuckle down to writing that novel he always felt he had in him. While, for Jada, it’s the opportunity for one last get-rich-quick scheme – ripping off a local airport. When a tragedy occurs, their worlds are brought closer than either could ever have imagined – close enough that it could mean destruction for both of them . . .
In a busy maternity ward, first-time father Dan meets Jada, a dad welcoming his fifth – no, sixth? – child into the world. Dan and Jada come from very different both called Glasgow. Dan is a successful TV writer with a townhouse in the West End and a shiny Tesla ready to drive his wife and baby home. Jada is a hustling, small-time criminal who is already planning how to separate Dan from some of the luxuries Jada has never been able to enjoy in his tiny flat in a Brutalist sixties council block.
Both men find that the birth of their sons has fired their ambitions. Dan plans to walk away from his saccharine TV success and finally knuckle down to writing that novel he always felt he had in him. While, for Jada, it’s the opportunity for one last get-rich-quick scheme – ripping off a local airport. When a tragedy occurs, their worlds are brought closer than either could ever have imagined – close enough that it could mean destruction for both of them . . .
363 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 28, 2025
About the author
John Niven
31 books899 followersBorn in Irvine, Ayrshire, Niven read English Literature at Glasgow University, graduating in 1991 with First Class honours. For the next ten years, he worked for a variety of record companies, including London Records and Independiente. He left the music industry to write full time in 2002 and published his debut novella Music from Big Pink in 2005 (Continuum Press). The novella was optioned for the screen by CC Films with a script has been written by English playwright Jez Butterworth. Niven's breakthrough novel Kill Your Friends is a satire of the music business, based on his brief career in A&R, during which he passed up the chance to sign Coldplay and Muse. The novel was published by William Heinemann in 2008 and achieved much acclaim, with Word magazine describing it as "possibly the best British Novel since Trainspotting". It has been translated into seven languages and was a bestseller in Britain and Germany. Niven has since published The Amateurs (2009), The Second Coming (2011), Cold Hands (2012) and Straight White Male (2013).
He also writes original screenplays with writing partner Nick Ball, the younger brother of British TV presenter Zoë Ball. His journalistic contributions to newspapers and magazines include a monthly column for Q magazine, entitled "London Kills Me". In 2009 Niven wrote a controversial article for The Independent newspaper where he attacked the media's largely complacent coverage of Michael Jackson's death.
Niven lives in Buckinghamshire with his fiancee and infant daughter. He has a teenage son from a previous marriage.
He also writes original screenplays with writing partner Nick Ball, the younger brother of British TV presenter Zoë Ball. His journalistic contributions to newspapers and magazines include a monthly column for Q magazine, entitled "London Kills Me". In 2009 Niven wrote a controversial article for The Independent newspaper where he attacked the media's largely complacent coverage of Michael Jackson's death.
Niven lives in Buckinghamshire with his fiancee and infant daughter. He has a teenage son from a previous marriage.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 123 reviews
August 12, 2025
Niven has played yet another blinder here! Pitch black humour shot through with moments of suffocating, raw emotion. A perfectly balanced, and astutely observed, study of human nature and the class divide. I especially enjoyed the audiobook. Angus King's narration is next level.
July 31, 2025
This will easily be in my top 10 books of the year. I had high expectations with it being a John Niven book and he delivered. He manages to write such fantastic flawed characters and such moving stories around them.
This didn’t have the whacky charm of The Sunshine Cruise Company or the sex and violence of Kill Your Friends but I liked how the story felt very grounded and real. The characters and the setting just leapt out at me.
I thoroughly enjoyed the audiobook although there were a few small blips. Most people should avoid this book though because, although I laughed a lot, the humour is very dark.
This didn’t have the whacky charm of The Sunshine Cruise Company or the sex and violence of Kill Your Friends but I liked how the story felt very grounded and real. The characters and the setting just leapt out at me.
I thoroughly enjoyed the audiobook although there were a few small blips. Most people should avoid this book though because, although I laughed a lot, the humour is very dark.
August 6, 2025
Niven always delivers and this is no different. Much less chaotic and violent than his previous books, but there's a tenderness to this one which elevates it. Some perfectly observed scenes about fatherhood which add another layer.
April 5, 2026
“Lo sai com’è fare il genitore, Dan? È come mettere la fodera a un piumino matrimoniale: nessuno capisce cosa cazzo sta facendo. Ti ci metti e in qualche modo funziona.”
L’avevo scelto come una storia irriverente e divertente, da leggere dopo la devastazione di “La casa tonda” di Louise Erdrich, invece mi ritrovo con un altro libro devastante.
Beh, è un libro sulla paternità, il titolo in originale lo indica chiaramente, “The fathers”. Dan è un sceneggiatore e produttore televisivo di successo che ha tutto nella vita: una villa in una zona ricca di Glasgow, una moglie che lo ama e che ama, amici, due belle e amorevoli famiglie che gli appoggiano. Ma manca qualcosa, manca un figlio che faranno di tutto pur di averlo e lo avranno. All’ospedale dove è diventato padre conosce un altro neo padre, Jada. Un uomo che è già stato decine di volte padre da donne diverse nel corso della sua vita. Un uomo che si droga, beve è stato già in prigione, viene da una famiglia tossica e rappresenta i piccoli criminali delle periferie. Potrebbero essere due mondi che non si incontrano mai, agli antipodi. Invece una tragedia gli unisce. Si ride e si piange in questo libro di Niven, dove si notano e si mettono in evidenza le differenze di essere padre degli due protagonisti. Ma ci sono anche momenti di tenerezza e sopratutto ci si ragiona sul ruolo del padre e dell’essere genitori, sulle differenze di classe, sul perché certe persone arrivano a studiare ed avere successo nella vita e altri finiscono già adolescenti a bere vino cattivo e lambire la strada verso le prigione.
“Dan aveva letto da qualche parte che le classi inferiori e le classi superiori erano quelle che se la spassavano di piú. Tutte le scopate e le risse senza un pensiero al mondo e senza una preoccupazione economica perché in un caso di soldi ce n’erano troppi e nell’altro non ce n’erano proprio. Sfornare un mucchio di figli illegittimi? Cazzo me ne frega, qualcuno se ne occuperà, che sia lo Stato o la famiglia ricca da secoli. Sí, doveva essere bello liberarsi di tutto, non sentirsi ingabbiati da tutte le fisime e i vincoli della classe media.”
L’avevo scelto come una storia irriverente e divertente, da leggere dopo la devastazione di “La casa tonda” di Louise Erdrich, invece mi ritrovo con un altro libro devastante.
Beh, è un libro sulla paternità, il titolo in originale lo indica chiaramente, “The fathers”. Dan è un sceneggiatore e produttore televisivo di successo che ha tutto nella vita: una villa in una zona ricca di Glasgow, una moglie che lo ama e che ama, amici, due belle e amorevoli famiglie che gli appoggiano. Ma manca qualcosa, manca un figlio che faranno di tutto pur di averlo e lo avranno. All’ospedale dove è diventato padre conosce un altro neo padre, Jada. Un uomo che è già stato decine di volte padre da donne diverse nel corso della sua vita. Un uomo che si droga, beve è stato già in prigione, viene da una famiglia tossica e rappresenta i piccoli criminali delle periferie. Potrebbero essere due mondi che non si incontrano mai, agli antipodi. Invece una tragedia gli unisce. Si ride e si piange in questo libro di Niven, dove si notano e si mettono in evidenza le differenze di essere padre degli due protagonisti. Ma ci sono anche momenti di tenerezza e sopratutto ci si ragiona sul ruolo del padre e dell’essere genitori, sulle differenze di classe, sul perché certe persone arrivano a studiare ed avere successo nella vita e altri finiscono già adolescenti a bere vino cattivo e lambire la strada verso le prigione.
“Dan aveva letto da qualche parte che le classi inferiori e le classi superiori erano quelle che se la spassavano di piú. Tutte le scopate e le risse senza un pensiero al mondo e senza una preoccupazione economica perché in un caso di soldi ce n’erano troppi e nell’altro non ce n’erano proprio. Sfornare un mucchio di figli illegittimi? Cazzo me ne frega, qualcuno se ne occuperà, che sia lo Stato o la famiglia ricca da secoli. Sí, doveva essere bello liberarsi di tutto, non sentirsi ingabbiati da tutte le fisime e i vincoli della classe media.”
March 11, 2026
Bellissimo come tutti i libri di Niven!
Ti fa ridere e piangere contemporaneamente!
Ti fa ridere e piangere contemporaneamente!
October 27, 2025
The Fathers is darkly comic exploration of fatherhood, class, and modern masculinity, set in modern day Glasgow. It really puts the reader through the mill as it covers grief, loss, fertility, class, inequality, education, parenting, toxic masculinity, and criminality.
For all that, it's also funny and has a real emotional depth.
So business as usual for John Niven but here combined with an emotionally complex and tragic tale.
4/5
For all that, it's also funny and has a real emotional depth.
So business as usual for John Niven but here combined with an emotionally complex and tragic tale.
4/5
September 9, 2025
Not a book for the faint hearted… but I really enjoyed my first John Niven book. In this tale of two Glaswegian dads from opposite ends of the social spectrum, Niven manages to combine humour, darkness and tragedy. His account of Jada and Nicola’s life of crime and drugs is particularly powerful - alarming but at times touching. The descriptions of drug taking are unflinching - this would be an X rated film. I was gripped by the characters - don’t expect to ‘like’ either of the male leads - and the plot. I agree the ending felt a little rushed and too neatly wrapped up but I’m already looking at other Niven titles. I’d recommend the audio book - Angus King’s narration is incredible and I think I enjoined hearing the book in full Glaswegian much more than if I’d read it.
September 22, 2025
Lazy sub Irvine Welsh characters and an unlikely ending. John Niven is a favourite author of mine, but this is his worst book unfortunately.
March 13, 2026
UN EQUILIBRIO TRA RESPONSABILITÀ E ISTINTO
Non avrei mai pensato di potergli assegnare un punteggio così alto, ma poi mi sono ritrovata di fronte al miglior romanzo di Niven dai tempi di "A volte ritorno", almeno per quanto mi riguarda. Come quello che considero il suo capolavoro, anche "Padri nostri" suscita nel lettore reazioni miste: un mix di riso e pianto, derivante dall'alternanza tra situazioni esilaranti e paradossali e momenti tragici, ricchi di spunti di riflessione.
Il tema dominante è senza dubbio quello della paternità, un evento capace di trasformare profondamente qualsiasi uomo la cui vita venga rivoluzionata dall'arrivo di un figlio. Esso si intreccia con un approfondimento sull'arbitrarietà del destino, che culmina nel momento della Ciò evidenzia come non esista un approccio "da manuale" alla genitorialità, che richiede invece un equilibrio tra responsabilità, istinto e capacità di adattamento.
"Lo sai com'è fare il genitore, Dan? È come mettere la fodera a un piumino matrimoniale: nessuno capisce cosa cazzo sta facendo. Ti ci metti e in qualche modo funziona."
Venendo agli aspetti strutturali, Niven adotta alcune strategie che denotano chiaramente il livello superiore di quest'opera rispetto ai lavori precedenti. In primo luogo, la doppia narrazione che intercala i punti di vista di Dan e Jada, uniformandosi in maniera camaleontica alla diversità dei mondi da cui provengono. Per Dan, che vive nell'agio e nel benessere, viene impiegato un lessico abbastanza colto e forbito, mentre Jada, costretto ad arrangiarsi con espedienti e traffici illeciti, si esprime in modo volgare e ricco di termini scurrili. Sono ancora più d'effetto, pertanto,
La trama in sé è un capolavoro di colpi di scena e di picchi di tensione. Tra gli avvenimenti più inaspettati ci sono sicuramente è poi uno degli episodi più toccanti e decisivi del romanzo, che apre la strada a un finale appagante e convincente.
Ancor prima che si arrivasse alla conclusione, tuttavia, mi ero già perdutamente innamorata di questo libro. Indice del mio gradimento è stata l'incapacità di staccarmene, dovuta all'escalation con cui, Questa gradualità produce una fitta aura di mistero intorno alle sorti dei due protagonisti, senza rendere chiaro sin da subito dove l'autore stia andando a parare e contribuendo a creare un finale ancora più imprevedibile.
Non avrei mai pensato di potergli assegnare un punteggio così alto, ma poi mi sono ritrovata di fronte al miglior romanzo di Niven dai tempi di "A volte ritorno", almeno per quanto mi riguarda. Come quello che considero il suo capolavoro, anche "Padri nostri" suscita nel lettore reazioni miste: un mix di riso e pianto, derivante dall'alternanza tra situazioni esilaranti e paradossali e momenti tragici, ricchi di spunti di riflessione.
Il tema dominante è senza dubbio quello della paternità, un evento capace di trasformare profondamente qualsiasi uomo la cui vita venga rivoluzionata dall'arrivo di un figlio. Esso si intreccia con un approfondimento sull'arbitrarietà del destino, che culmina nel momento della Ciò evidenzia come non esista un approccio "da manuale" alla genitorialità, che richiede invece un equilibrio tra responsabilità, istinto e capacità di adattamento.
"Lo sai com'è fare il genitore, Dan? È come mettere la fodera a un piumino matrimoniale: nessuno capisce cosa cazzo sta facendo. Ti ci metti e in qualche modo funziona."
Venendo agli aspetti strutturali, Niven adotta alcune strategie che denotano chiaramente il livello superiore di quest'opera rispetto ai lavori precedenti. In primo luogo, la doppia narrazione che intercala i punti di vista di Dan e Jada, uniformandosi in maniera camaleontica alla diversità dei mondi da cui provengono. Per Dan, che vive nell'agio e nel benessere, viene impiegato un lessico abbastanza colto e forbito, mentre Jada, costretto ad arrangiarsi con espedienti e traffici illeciti, si esprime in modo volgare e ricco di termini scurrili. Sono ancora più d'effetto, pertanto,
La trama in sé è un capolavoro di colpi di scena e di picchi di tensione. Tra gli avvenimenti più inaspettati ci sono sicuramente è poi uno degli episodi più toccanti e decisivi del romanzo, che apre la strada a un finale appagante e convincente.
Ancor prima che si arrivasse alla conclusione, tuttavia, mi ero già perdutamente innamorata di questo libro. Indice del mio gradimento è stata l'incapacità di staccarmene, dovuta all'escalation con cui, Questa gradualità produce una fitta aura di mistero intorno alle sorti dei due protagonisti, senza rendere chiaro sin da subito dove l'autore stia andando a parare e contribuendo a creare un finale ancora più imprevedibile.
November 5, 2025
This book chewed me up and spat me out and turned my stomach inside out. Credit to the writing and character development for how invested I became in the lives of Dan and Jada - I’m just glad the story didn’t end the way I thought it would ! Gritty and graphic and overall, great.
January 25, 2026
excellent read ... a read again down the road
July 23, 2025
Hilarious, heartbreaking and so fast paced. Highly recommend, even if you think it isn’t a book you’d normally pick up. Brilliant!
June 11, 2025
‘The Fathers’ is strong stuff. Wealthy, educated and older first-time father, Dan, meets world-weary, small-time wheeler dealer/crook/violent thug, Jada, at a Glasgow maternity unit after the births of their sons, Tom and Cayden/Jayden. Father of five whom he rarely sees, Jada vows that he will be more present for his latest progeny, never mind the impossibility of being a positive influence on the boy’s life. In contrast, Dan is determined his son will never doubt his devotion nor want for anything.
Months pass and then the unthinkable happens. Bizarrely Dan and Jada’s paths cross again and the men grow increasingly dependent on each other. How and why?
I found Jada’s character really tedious for the first third of this story. Maybe that’s what the author is aiming for, showing us just how grim it is to live like him. However, it’s worth persevering with the narrative – the depiction of the central characters grows increasingly complex and nuanced. John Niven takes a terrible, nightmarish situation and explores its effect on the men and their families to the extent that it’s possible no one will survive. A thought-provoking, fearless look at privilege and poverty and whether or not the gap can ever be bridged.
My thanks to NetGalley and Canongate Books for a copy of this book in exchange for a fair review.
Months pass and then the unthinkable happens. Bizarrely Dan and Jada’s paths cross again and the men grow increasingly dependent on each other. How and why?
I found Jada’s character really tedious for the first third of this story. Maybe that’s what the author is aiming for, showing us just how grim it is to live like him. However, it’s worth persevering with the narrative – the depiction of the central characters grows increasingly complex and nuanced. John Niven takes a terrible, nightmarish situation and explores its effect on the men and their families to the extent that it’s possible no one will survive. A thought-provoking, fearless look at privilege and poverty and whether or not the gap can ever be bridged.
My thanks to NetGalley and Canongate Books for a copy of this book in exchange for a fair review.
November 9, 2025
Interesting that this book has such great reviews. I swear a lot, or so I thought, but the language was pretty full on, and distracted me. I also found the narration a bit odd because of some of the accents.
That aside, I liked the concept of the book, and how little the two families understood of each other's lives. A lot of the story was well conceived, and the way different characters dealt with their circumstances and experiences was well described.
That said, the whole grape thing struck me as unlikely. And the ending was a let down.
That aside, I liked the concept of the book, and how little the two families understood of each other's lives. A lot of the story was well conceived, and the way different characters dealt with their circumstances and experiences was well described.
That said, the whole grape thing struck me as unlikely. And the ending was a let down.
April 13, 2026
Oltre ai toni sarcastici e a una capacità, per me alquanto rara, di fare davvero ridere, i romanzi di John Niven sono sempre in grado di lasciare qualcosa di profondo su cui riflettere. Qui in prima battuta si parla, come suggerisce il titolo, di paternità e in generale genitorialità, ma vi sono anche questioni più implicite, come la non netta contrapposizione tra bene e male e tra personaggio “buono” e “cattivo”, o le osservazioni sulle classi sociali e su come diseguali opportunità fin dai primi mesi di vita possano portarci a realizzare versioni così diverse di noi; vi è la durezza del destino, impossibile da fregare o evitare anche quando ci si prepara per il caso peggiore, ma vi sono anche il libero arbitrio e la possibilità di redimersi; e ci sono le conseguenze di tutto ciò sulla fragilità delle persone.
Complessivamente perciò mi è piaciuto ed, essendo abbastanza scorrevole, l'ho letto anche in pochi giorni, ma non riesco ad assegnare più di tre stelle perché non posso ignorare che stavo per abbandonare la lettura poco prima della metà (prima del punto di svolta) perché un po' annoiata e che le ultime trenta pagine mi hanno abbastanza deluso perché scontate e anche un po' edulcorate.
Complessivamente perciò mi è piaciuto ed, essendo abbastanza scorrevole, l'ho letto anche in pochi giorni, ma non riesco ad assegnare più di tre stelle perché non posso ignorare che stavo per abbandonare la lettura poco prima della metà (prima del punto di svolta) perché un po' annoiata e che le ultime trenta pagine mi hanno abbastanza deluso perché scontate e anche un po' edulcorate.
February 23, 2026
A raw journey about the polar opposites of class and wealth/poverty. Featuring contrasting yet genuine leads that are neither all-good nor all-bad. This led to empathic rooting at times, followed for shock and horror, and vice-verse. Several gripping slow motion train crash moments.
The audiobook narration especially added to the experience, given the heavy use of unfamiliar Scottish colloquialisms.
The audiobook narration especially added to the experience, given the heavy use of unfamiliar Scottish colloquialisms.
September 17, 2025
Loved that it was about men and fatherhood – just take care.
It contains reference to child bereavement and one of the must upsetting scenes I've ever read. That's not to detract from the book, just be warned.
It contains reference to child bereavement and one of the must upsetting scenes I've ever read. That's not to detract from the book, just be warned.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 27, 2025
He’s done it yet again. Astoundingly good storytelling, I couldn’t put it down. Every time Niven brings a new book out, it automatically bypasses my backlog of 15-20 others to read, and goes immediately to the top - rightly so.
January 18, 2026
More a 3.5 stars really and marked down as I had such high expectations as John Niven’s O Brother was one of my favourites that I read last year and one of my all time favourites too.
This was a good concept which started well but just felt like it was trying a bit too hard to be funny as it went on and the storyline was just too unbelievable.
Will definitely read more by this author though.
This was a good concept which started well but just felt like it was trying a bit too hard to be funny as it went on and the storyline was just too unbelievable.
Will definitely read more by this author though.
April 30, 2026
Torna il Niven di Invidia il prossimo tuo, con il confronto di classe e i rapporti che nascono da momenti inaspettati della vita.
Sullo sfondo una grande Glasgow raccontata tra gentrification e marginalità.
Sullo sfondo una grande Glasgow raccontata tra gentrification e marginalità.
August 24, 2025
Darkly funny and well written.
November 2, 2025
That was a bloody rollercoaster.
January 6, 2026
I love John Niven and this was a great book but I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone with a young child
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 8, 2026
Niven è sempre Niven....cinico, ironico, drammatico e profondo....
February 6, 2026
I was really looking forward to this one, after loving O Brother so much last year. It didn’t disappoint.
Absolutely pitch black in places, but also plenty to smile about. I always enjoy how well observed his characters are.
A horrible, lovely read. Enjoy.
Absolutely pitch black in places, but also plenty to smile about. I always enjoy how well observed his characters are.
A horrible, lovely read. Enjoy.
July 28, 2025
I would like to think I understood most of this, but fully admit I do not know any Scottish slang. 🤔 I was not prepared for chapter 18, was mostly fearful of how it might turn out and was delighted with how it actually did turn out.
November 4, 2025
John Niven’s 2025 novel The Fathers represents a significant evolution in the author’s work, combining the sharp satirical edge of his earlier novels with a deeper exploration of domesticity, tragedy, and grief. This shift is particularly meaningful given Niven’s 2023 memoir O Brother, which chronicled his younger brother’s struggles and eventual suicide. The emotional depth of that non-fiction work clearly informs the intense tragic elements of this novel.
The story functions as both comic melodrama and biting class satire, built around an unlikely friendship between two fortysomething Glasgow men from completely different worlds. Dan is an affluent, anxious professional, while Jada is a volatile, streetwise criminal. Their lives intersect following the births of their sons, events that trigger ambitious changes in both men. Parenthood inspires Dan to abandon his comfortable career for more meaningful work, while it drives Jada toward a desperate scheme for quick money. When tragedy strikes, their worlds collide with potentially destructive consequences for both.
The contrast between Dan and Jada is established immediately at Glasgow’s Queen Elizabeth University Hospital. Dan, overwhelmed by the wonder and terror of first-time fatherhood, takes nervous breaths outside while Jada simply sneaks a cigarette. This initial scene captures the vast gulf between their realities.
Dan embodies upper-middle-class professional success. As an arts graduate turned TV producer, he’s made his fortune creating *McCallister*, a long-running detective series mixing elements of *Taggart* and *Hamish MacBeth*. His wealth is evident in his Tesla, his mansion with herringbone floors, and his obsession with consuming only environmentally friendly salmon. His path to fatherhood was arduous, requiring five years and six rounds of IVF, making his son Tom’s birth feel miraculous. Dan meticulously childproofs his home and strives for perfect fatherhood. This domestic reality triggers a creative crisis, as he grows bored with his saccharine TV success and plans to kill off his main character to finally write the serious novel he’s always believed was in him.
Jada provides the visceral counterpoint. A petty criminal living hand-to-mouth in a cramped 1960s tower block, he’s meeting his newest son Jayden, his seventh child with girlfriend Nicola. Though he claims to want to be more present than he was for his previous children, this qualification hints at significant past neglect. Unlike Dan’s creative aspirations, Jada’s motivation is purely financial desperation. He eyes Dan’s Rolex and mentally calculates how quickly he could defeat him in a fight. His ambition centers entirely on one last get-rich-quick scheme involving ripping off a local airport. The class contrast is reinforced even in the hospital, where Grace recovers in a private room drinking expensive smoothies while Jada remains confined to public spaces.
This deliberate use of archetypes—Dan as the upper-middle-class professional and Jada as the feckless criminal—establishes rigid social boundaries. While some critics note that the working-class portrayal relies heavily on clichés like gratuitous drug use and feeding junk food to babies, this stereotyping appears intentional. The novel’s emotional power derives from watching these two men, despite representing social extremes, find shared humanity under extreme duress.
Both men’s ambitions develop in parallel, ironically enabled by the fact that their partners, Grace and Nicola, assume most childcare responsibilities. Dan uses this space to draft his serious novel, while Jada executes his criminal plan. Jada’s airport scheme quickly escalates beyond simple theft when he uncovers a dangerous haul: a crate of pistols he plans to sell to a Northern Irish terrorist group. The stakes rocket from financial desperation to organized crime and potential treason.
Against this backdrop of escalating criminality comes the novel’s devastating centerpiece. Dan suffers a shocking disaster that instantly shatters his carefully constructed world. The tragedy serves as the ultimate equalizer, demonstrating that Dan’s privileges—his wealth, stability, and obsessive preparation—offer absolutely no protection from random horror. The plot then executes a dramatic inversion: Dan loses everything, finding himself ejected from his herringbone-floored home and plunged directly into the chaotic, survivalist world Jada already inhabits. His high-minded artistic aspirations become meaningless in the face of grief, forcing him to adopt the only available alternatives: nihilism, self-destruction, and the dangerous quick fixes offered by his unlikely companion.
Following the disaster, Dan undergoes a profound psychological descent. His grief manifests not as quiet sorrow but as reckless self-destruction and moral compromise. He embraces Jada’s life of dodgy deals, sporadic violence, and daytime drinking. The relationship between the two men transforms under this shared stress. What began as a brief, suspicious hospital encounter slowly becomes a genuine comradeship forged in the furnace of shared trauma and escalating criminal enterprise.
The gun-running plot moves forward with Dan, the educated former producer, now fully implicated in Jada’s high-stakes dealings. This forces a moral examination: Dan’s crime is sudden and driven purely by grief, while Jada’s lifetime of criminal activity was born of socioeconomic constraint and the need to provide. The camaraderie that develops suggests their respective moral codes are far more fluid than their class positions implied. Niven uses this criminal partnership to argue that when confronted by profound destabilizing forces—whether trauma or poverty—criminality shifts from moral failing to primal survival reaction.
The Fathers explores contemporary Scottish society through multiple interconnected themes. Class inequality dominates, with Niven’s acid-sharp satire highlighting the pervasive economic disparities that dictate social horizons. The contrast between Dan’s mansion and Jada’s tower block, between environmentally conscious consumption and desperate dealing, illustrates inequality at every level. The narrative arc, which sees the wealthy father thrust into the working-class underworld, demonstrates that economic privilege offers no defense against universal human tragedy.
The novel tackles difficult subjects from a male perspective, particularly fertility struggles and the numbing, dizzying forces unleashed by grief. While the overarching narrative involves high-stakes crime, the story grounds itself in finely observed domestic details rendered with dark humor—like describing brushing a baby’s teeth as trying to draw a mustache on a live eel with a felt-tip pen. The central thesis on fatherhood suggests that while mothers largely bear the childcare load, the arrival of sons universally fires fathers’ ambitions, whether toward creative fulfillment or financial risk.
A central critique revolves around flawed male coping mechanisms, perhaps best captured by a female character’s frustrated observation: “Fucking men… Why do they always think it’s about fixing everything?” For Dan, this impulse initially manifests as meticulous external control through childproofing and career planning. After tragedy, it pivots violently to fixing his emotional state through destructive actions—substance abuse and criminality. For Jada, it means fixing chronic financial instability through high-risk schemes. The novel argues that this masculine drive to use external action—crime, alcohol, grand career moves—serves as an inadequate, often destructive substitute for genuine internal emotional processing.
Niven’s writing in The Fathers is characterized by smart, funny, laser-focused prose that successfully maintains the structure of comic melodrama while shifting between deep tragedy and high-octane criminal conspiracy.
The novel was good and I found it easy to pick up, but the ending delivered a happier resolution than most of the book would suggest. Everything works out in a sense, which makes you wonder why go through it all in the first place. Niven goes to great lengths to make the worlds of the two men collide, building intense drama and exploring the darkest corners of grief and desperation, only to pull back from the full weight of consequences that such a harrowing journey might demand. This tonal shift, while providing closure and perhaps commercial appeal, undermines some of the novel’s more brutal emotional truths, leaving the reader with a resolution that feels somewhat at odds with the unrelenting darkness that preceded it.
The story functions as both comic melodrama and biting class satire, built around an unlikely friendship between two fortysomething Glasgow men from completely different worlds. Dan is an affluent, anxious professional, while Jada is a volatile, streetwise criminal. Their lives intersect following the births of their sons, events that trigger ambitious changes in both men. Parenthood inspires Dan to abandon his comfortable career for more meaningful work, while it drives Jada toward a desperate scheme for quick money. When tragedy strikes, their worlds collide with potentially destructive consequences for both.
The contrast between Dan and Jada is established immediately at Glasgow’s Queen Elizabeth University Hospital. Dan, overwhelmed by the wonder and terror of first-time fatherhood, takes nervous breaths outside while Jada simply sneaks a cigarette. This initial scene captures the vast gulf between their realities.
Dan embodies upper-middle-class professional success. As an arts graduate turned TV producer, he’s made his fortune creating *McCallister*, a long-running detective series mixing elements of *Taggart* and *Hamish MacBeth*. His wealth is evident in his Tesla, his mansion with herringbone floors, and his obsession with consuming only environmentally friendly salmon. His path to fatherhood was arduous, requiring five years and six rounds of IVF, making his son Tom’s birth feel miraculous. Dan meticulously childproofs his home and strives for perfect fatherhood. This domestic reality triggers a creative crisis, as he grows bored with his saccharine TV success and plans to kill off his main character to finally write the serious novel he’s always believed was in him.
Jada provides the visceral counterpoint. A petty criminal living hand-to-mouth in a cramped 1960s tower block, he’s meeting his newest son Jayden, his seventh child with girlfriend Nicola. Though he claims to want to be more present than he was for his previous children, this qualification hints at significant past neglect. Unlike Dan’s creative aspirations, Jada’s motivation is purely financial desperation. He eyes Dan’s Rolex and mentally calculates how quickly he could defeat him in a fight. His ambition centers entirely on one last get-rich-quick scheme involving ripping off a local airport. The class contrast is reinforced even in the hospital, where Grace recovers in a private room drinking expensive smoothies while Jada remains confined to public spaces.
This deliberate use of archetypes—Dan as the upper-middle-class professional and Jada as the feckless criminal—establishes rigid social boundaries. While some critics note that the working-class portrayal relies heavily on clichés like gratuitous drug use and feeding junk food to babies, this stereotyping appears intentional. The novel’s emotional power derives from watching these two men, despite representing social extremes, find shared humanity under extreme duress.
Both men’s ambitions develop in parallel, ironically enabled by the fact that their partners, Grace and Nicola, assume most childcare responsibilities. Dan uses this space to draft his serious novel, while Jada executes his criminal plan. Jada’s airport scheme quickly escalates beyond simple theft when he uncovers a dangerous haul: a crate of pistols he plans to sell to a Northern Irish terrorist group. The stakes rocket from financial desperation to organized crime and potential treason.
Against this backdrop of escalating criminality comes the novel’s devastating centerpiece. Dan suffers a shocking disaster that instantly shatters his carefully constructed world. The tragedy serves as the ultimate equalizer, demonstrating that Dan’s privileges—his wealth, stability, and obsessive preparation—offer absolutely no protection from random horror. The plot then executes a dramatic inversion: Dan loses everything, finding himself ejected from his herringbone-floored home and plunged directly into the chaotic, survivalist world Jada already inhabits. His high-minded artistic aspirations become meaningless in the face of grief, forcing him to adopt the only available alternatives: nihilism, self-destruction, and the dangerous quick fixes offered by his unlikely companion.
Following the disaster, Dan undergoes a profound psychological descent. His grief manifests not as quiet sorrow but as reckless self-destruction and moral compromise. He embraces Jada’s life of dodgy deals, sporadic violence, and daytime drinking. The relationship between the two men transforms under this shared stress. What began as a brief, suspicious hospital encounter slowly becomes a genuine comradeship forged in the furnace of shared trauma and escalating criminal enterprise.
The gun-running plot moves forward with Dan, the educated former producer, now fully implicated in Jada’s high-stakes dealings. This forces a moral examination: Dan’s crime is sudden and driven purely by grief, while Jada’s lifetime of criminal activity was born of socioeconomic constraint and the need to provide. The camaraderie that develops suggests their respective moral codes are far more fluid than their class positions implied. Niven uses this criminal partnership to argue that when confronted by profound destabilizing forces—whether trauma or poverty—criminality shifts from moral failing to primal survival reaction.
The Fathers explores contemporary Scottish society through multiple interconnected themes. Class inequality dominates, with Niven’s acid-sharp satire highlighting the pervasive economic disparities that dictate social horizons. The contrast between Dan’s mansion and Jada’s tower block, between environmentally conscious consumption and desperate dealing, illustrates inequality at every level. The narrative arc, which sees the wealthy father thrust into the working-class underworld, demonstrates that economic privilege offers no defense against universal human tragedy.
The novel tackles difficult subjects from a male perspective, particularly fertility struggles and the numbing, dizzying forces unleashed by grief. While the overarching narrative involves high-stakes crime, the story grounds itself in finely observed domestic details rendered with dark humor—like describing brushing a baby’s teeth as trying to draw a mustache on a live eel with a felt-tip pen. The central thesis on fatherhood suggests that while mothers largely bear the childcare load, the arrival of sons universally fires fathers’ ambitions, whether toward creative fulfillment or financial risk.
A central critique revolves around flawed male coping mechanisms, perhaps best captured by a female character’s frustrated observation: “Fucking men… Why do they always think it’s about fixing everything?” For Dan, this impulse initially manifests as meticulous external control through childproofing and career planning. After tragedy, it pivots violently to fixing his emotional state through destructive actions—substance abuse and criminality. For Jada, it means fixing chronic financial instability through high-risk schemes. The novel argues that this masculine drive to use external action—crime, alcohol, grand career moves—serves as an inadequate, often destructive substitute for genuine internal emotional processing.
Niven’s writing in The Fathers is characterized by smart, funny, laser-focused prose that successfully maintains the structure of comic melodrama while shifting between deep tragedy and high-octane criminal conspiracy.
The novel was good and I found it easy to pick up, but the ending delivered a happier resolution than most of the book would suggest. Everything works out in a sense, which makes you wonder why go through it all in the first place. Niven goes to great lengths to make the worlds of the two men collide, building intense drama and exploring the darkest corners of grief and desperation, only to pull back from the full weight of consequences that such a harrowing journey might demand. This tonal shift, while providing closure and perhaps commercial appeal, undermines some of the novel’s more brutal emotional truths, leaving the reader with a resolution that feels somewhat at odds with the unrelenting darkness that preceded it.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 14, 2025
I’ve always enjoyed John Niven’s books, and The Fathers is absolutely up there with my favourite of his. The balance of black humour with such empathy and raw emotion is next level — both touching, heartbreaking and hilarious.
The two main characters, Jada and Dan, will live with me for a long while. With a friendship — that isn’t perhaps a friendship beyond circumstance — which is as troubled as it is unlikely, the Venn world where they meet is a raucous minefield, and certainly no place for raising kids. The circumstances that lead them there are horrific; and where it leads to after that . . . well, that’s life; that’s parenthood.
Compassionate and caustic, bless the world of John Niven’s characters, and the journeys they take us on. Brilliant. Loved it.
The two main characters, Jada and Dan, will live with me for a long while. With a friendship — that isn’t perhaps a friendship beyond circumstance — which is as troubled as it is unlikely, the Venn world where they meet is a raucous minefield, and certainly no place for raising kids. The circumstances that lead them there are horrific; and where it leads to after that . . . well, that’s life; that’s parenthood.
Compassionate and caustic, bless the world of John Niven’s characters, and the journeys they take us on. Brilliant. Loved it.
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