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416 pages, Hardcover
Expected publication May 5, 2026
“All I want from this world is someone to love, and here you are.”

John of John is a brutal, beautiful little punch to the gut. It follows Cal, a young gay man who’s run out of money at uni and has to move back home to the Isle of Harris, into the house—and orbit—of his father, John, a deeply religious crofter who loves him and hurts him in the same breath. Around them, you get this whole web of island life: Ella, Cal’s iconic, vulgar, half‑Gaelic grandmother; Doll, the friend he left behind; Innes, John’s steady neighbour who sees more than he says; and the shadow of Cal’s mother, Grace, who isn’t there but is everywhere.
The writing is honestly stunning. The Gaelic, the Free Church atmosphere, the crofting, the gossip networks—it’s dense, sometimes a bit of work to follow, but it feels so lived‑in and specific that you just sink into it. Stuart never over‑explains. He lets tiny details, dialogue, and body language do the heavy lifting, and it’s incredibly effective.
What really grabbed me is the parallel between Cal and John. You have Cal’s messy, horny, often darkly funny queer desire on one side, and John’s knotted, terrified inner life on the other, and you see how both are shaped by the same island, the same church, the same shame. John can be controlling and genuinely frightening, but he’s also lonely and broken in ways that feel painfully real. Ella, on the other hand, is just pure chaotic love and practicality, and every scene with her was a highlight for me.
The book is also very clear-eyed about misogyny and religion. The way the men in the church talk about women, police young girls, and use faith to justify cruelty made me genuinely angry at points. It feels disturbingly believable, and Stuart doesn’t flinch away from that.
Emotionally, this is not a comforting read. It’s funny in places, tender in places, and packed with lines I wanted to highlight, but it also left me raw and unsettled. It refuses neat justice or a soothing ending. I admire it a lot, even as the final stretch made me want to scream.
If you want a tidy, feel‑good story, this probably isn’t it. If you’re in the mood for something beautifully written, queer, angry, and painfully human, John of John is absolutely worth it.