From the Booker-winning author of Shuggie Bain and Young Mungo comes a vivid, moving, and beautifully crafted novel following a young man returning to his Hebridean island home, a portrait of a close-knit community and a fraying family, of a father’s expectations and a son’s desires
Out of money and with little to show for his art school education, John-Calum Macleod takes the ferry back home to the island of Harris to find that little has changed except for him. In the windswept croft where he grew up, Cal begrudgingly resumes his old life, stuck between the two poles of his childhood: his father John, a sheep farmer, tweed weaver, and pillar of their local Presbyterian church, and his maternal grandmother Ella, a profanity-loving Glaswegian who has kept a faltering peace with her son-in-law for several decades. Cal wonders if any lonely men might be found on the barren hillsides of home, while John is dismayed by his son’s long hair and how he seems unwilling to be Saved. As lambing season turns to shearing season, everything seems poised to change as the threads holding together the fragile community become increasingly knotted.
John of John is a singular novel about duty and patience and the transformative power of the truth. It is a magnificent literary work that shows Douglas Stuart working at an even higher level of artistic creation.
Douglas Stuart is a NY Times bestselling author. His latest novel, John of John, will publish in May 2026.
His work has been translated into over 40 languages. His debut novel, Shuggie Bain, is the winner of the 2020 Booker Prize and a finalist for the National Book Award. His second novel, Young Mungo, was a #1 Sunday Times Bestseller. His short stories have been published by The New Yorker.
Born and raised in Glasgow, Scotland, after receiving his MA from the Royal College of Art in London, he has lived and worked in New York City.
Once again, Douglas Stuart is viciously attacking my jaded heart with a perfectly composed, beautifully written story about family, community and individuality that has no business being so damn suspenseful until the very last page. Set on the Scottish island of Harris during the 1990's, the novel tells the story of 22-year-old John-Calum ("Cal"), son of crofter and tweed weaver John and grandson of Calum, an already deceased former soldier. As the telling names and the title of the book suggest, the recent college graduate lives through the faithful cycles of his ancestors, and what he will make of his emotional heritage is the question that moves the book forward. At the beginning, Cal comes back from the mainland to live with his dad and grandmother in the tiny farm community where he grew up, because he couldn't find a job after graduating textile college. Throughout the text, he remains torn between the demands of the community and his family and his own needs.
Cal is gay, which he conceals from everyone on the island, a place ruled by strict Presbyterian morals. What he doesn't know though (and this is not a spoiler, because it's already clearly suggested at 7% into the book, I checked) is that his father John is also gay: Cal's parents separated because his mother found out, but she never told on John out of concern for him. 48-year-old John has been in love with his neighbor Innes since he was a teenager, but their relationship is of course under constant threat. Cal's grandmother Ella, herself a Glaswegian outsider, is aware though, and she knows what stigmatization means: Her deceased husband Calum married her when she was pregnant from another man, a story arc that will return in a different form during the course of the novel...
Stuart's book puts its considerably big cast of islanders under constant outside pressure - the community's standards based on religious convictions as well as familial expectations - as well psychological strain: Whether male or female, gay or straight, young or old, we meet a plethora of people questioning their moral worth and belief system and what they can or should sacrifice for their own happiness or the (assumed!) happiness of others. Another core topic is finding the courage to go against traditional and/or majority values when they appear to be wrong, and to stand with those who are harmed and shamed. Stuart's characters are so alive, messy and psychologically plausible that they bring you to tears, even more so here than in Shuggie Bain (yes, that's possible).
Sure, this is very traditional storytelling, a country tale about family and religion with the slight twist of some queer characters, and there is nothing truly experimental or aesthetically daring here. But do we complain about this when it comes to, let's say: William Trevor (who also knows a thing or two about religion and outsiders)? No, because his traditional storytelling is outstanding, and Stuart's is, too. And he knows his subject matter, as he, much like Cal, is a gay Scottish man who graduated a college of textiles and, after publishing "Shuggie Bain", spent a considerable amount of time on the Outer Hebrides, which leads to him being able to deliver atmospherically dense, moody nature writing peppered with bits of Gaelic. This author has a special talent for interrogating people's complicated humanity, a talent with religious sensibilities to see their potential for personal salvation through charity and compassion, but also self-love: Part of the impact of his writing stems from the fact that he seems to love his characters a lot more than they manage to love themselves.
Hey, Booker (feat. Jarvis Cocker!!): Nominate this, or seriously show me thirteen better novels this season, I dare you.
Even as I was ecstatic to have the privilege of reading Stuart's third novel a full six months prior to publication, I also had a touch of trepidation. After two such astonishingly assured works as the Booker-winning Shuggie Bain and the equally enthralling Young Mungo, (both of which topped my list of the year's best books in their respective years) what if his luck ran out and the new novel - shudder - was a dud?
Well, I am happy to report my fears were for naught, as John of John: A Novel is not only the equal of its predecessors but I think, if anything, is even better. Those enamored by Stuart's usual concerns will be glad to learn this does not stray terribly far from those, but there is a deeper maturity and muscularity, a clarity in this new work and in a word - it's magnificent.
Set in the late '90's, the titular character is 22-year-old John-Calum MacLeod, known as Cal, who following graduation from an art college in Edinburgh, is summoned back to his hometown of Falabay on the Isle of Harris in the Outer Hebrides, allegedly to help his father John cope with his ailing maternal grandmother, Ella. Cal has had to hide his sexual orientation from his family, especially his upright religious father, and fears how he will cope going back to the scene of an unhappy childhood, scarred by his parents' acrimonious divorce.
Not only is Stuart a master at delineating character and creating riveting scenes, but he has an uncanny ear for dialogue, and adding little touches of Scottish Gaelic (even if I had to run to Google Translate a few more times than I cared to!) is a delightful surprise.
No spoilers, but at almost the exact halfway point in the book, there is a revelation that upends everything - and I read the entire second half in a marathon of 7 hours as I couldn't wait to find out what happens. Needless to say, this will again top my list for the best book of the year ... and I'm just sorry I'll have to wait so long for others to read it, so we can discuss!
If this DOESN'T make the 2026 Booker longlist, at least, I swear, there WILL be blood!! And if there's any justice, Stuart will become the next double Booker -winner. I simply cannot imagine a finer novel coming out between now and next October.
Gritty and dark but also immersive and gorgeous. That’s how I described Douglas Stuart’s Shuggie Bain and Young Mungo. After reading those, I found myself wishing he’d write something a little less disturbing. John of John is that book. It’s more gloomy and gray than gritty and dark, with touches of humor woven through. What remains is the fantastic writing and the way Douglas Stuart pulls me into his worlds. John of John is just as stunning and evocative as its predecessors.
Set on a Scottish island, John of John follows a father and son who couldn’t be more different: the Calvinist father, John, devout, divorced and desperate to keep everything the same, and the gay son, John-Calum, who wants to be himself but feels stuck after finishing college. And yet, beneath the surface, the two are so alike it’s almost unsettling.
Shuggie Bain was a little kid at the start; Mungo was fifteen; and John-Calum (Cal to everyone) is twenty-two when he returns to the island. But all of them long for the same thing: parental approval.
John of John is a quiet story. Not much seems to happen, and yet this family, this community, these people get under your skin. As a reader, you want to peel back layer after layer. The men work hard, but the women might be the ones who are the strongest, the smartest: Ella, Cal’s grandmother; Grace, his mother; and Isla, the girl he’s expected to end up with.
This is a story about guilt and regret: “Am I to live my life watching everyone else do the living?”
About hiding: ”I’d like to sit in a pub as the rain comes down and talk to you without worrying someone might know us.”
About want: ”I have to have something to show at the end of this life.”
About the wish to love and be loved: All I want from this world is someone to love.”
The last part of the story made tears sprang to my eyes again and again. I wanted to shake these men and hold them in my arms at the same time.
Douglas Stuart is an incredible author, and I’ll read anything he writes. I’d love to meet his characters again later in life, even though I know that probably won’t happen. More than anything, I just want all of these fantastic characters to find some happiness.
“All I want from this world is someone to love, and here you are.”
Douglas Stuart's writing is effortless in its ability to draw you so completely into the lives of his characters that time passes by so smoothly and you don't even realize how much you've read till you realize how late it's been. It's almost melodious with its subtle balance of humor and heart and hurt. 🤌🏻🤌🏻 A vivid honesty to their voices that makes them feel so alive. It's how it made me immersed in this complicated relationship between a father and son - John and John-Callum, Cal - each shouldering their burden of secrets with a silence that oftentimes can be its own form of punishment. 😔
Their moving story is more than just that of John of John, a dynamic built on how unlike they are, that had me fully entwined, just as the yarn they wove. It's a family member hiding buried truths, a friend watching and wanting - I deserve a love that was worth it - a lost soul drowning their sorrows, and an island lush with Gaelic dialect of Falabay … that’s a hard place. Hard, but beautiful that fully captures the essence of wishing for more than you can, hoping that you can find it without losing yourself in the process, but still settled with what you have. 🫂
“I’d like to get lost with you...”
It was so strange how the lyrics of The Mob Song from Beauty and the Beast echoed in my head throughout. I know it's so odd, but, sometimes the most damning of pitchforks sometimes lies within. Dazed, but not broken, the lamb screamed to be released. 💔 It haunted me throughout, in the aching quietness of these intimate moments that carried hidden undertones that gave me this bittersweet feeling of hoping for the best for everyone. A tension tightly wound that it was only the anticipation of it snapping that kept me baited, unsure if I was ready to see the eventual fallout. 😢
Certain reveals towards the end have me conflicted; I felt --- hoodwinked. It's a strong, harsh word, but I cannot deny I was not entirely satisfied with their portrayal. 🤔 Maybe I missed the signs of how strong the sense of community and loyalty lies within that I was unable to wholly accept it. But - home is where the heart is - I cannot argue with that. For there was one moment where my emotions viscerally felt the sorrow of uncertainty and regret, tried to find himself amidst all the noise. The swell of the fear of loss, tinged with guilt and loneliness, hit me hard to my heart's core, and I won't ever forget it. 🥹
“Make yourself happy, son. Christ above, let one of us be happy.”
I may have liked Cal slightly more than the author's other two previous protagonists, perhaps because Cal is the eldest of them, a man with a good head on his shoulders - sometimes. 🥺 Or perhaps it was because his life story was not as bleak as that of Shuggie Bain. But Young Mungo will forever have me longing for closure; hoping one day the author will return to his story to fill the void it left in my heart. And if there is a story about William (iykyk), then I wouldn't mind that either. ❤️🩹
Every time I read a novel like this—one where the storytelling, the characterisation, and especially the dialogue are so exceptionally well done—I feel enormous pressure when I sit down to write the kind of review that would make people run to the bookshop that very moment and buy it. The problem is that the harder I try, the more difficult it becomes. I start feeling as if I’m repeating myself, that I’ve said it all before, that I’m being boring or predictable—or worse, that the whole review is riddled with typos and nonsense.
So perhaps the best thing I can say about this novel is that I fell in love with the characters from the start, I’ll never stop raving about its dialogue, and, most importantly, after its conclusion all I can think is: I hope this is only the first volume of a trilogy.
In the wrong hands, a story like this would, without any doubt, turn into contrivance central. In this case, though, I can already see it becoming one of 2026’s best novels.
Now, please, Mr Stuart—tell me volume two is coming soon.
5++. I read Douglas Stuart's "Young Mungo" a few years ago, and was completely blown away. Very thoroughly devastated as well, at times. Well, this new one, just as impressive, just as compelling, just as demanding my avid attention. "John of John" hearkens very much to two favorite movies of mine, "Brokeback Mountain" and "God's Own Country," and I can't help but wonder if that's intentional; there are many echoes of both those movies in this book, and without spoiling things, two of the main characters have names almost exactly as those of Brokeback's two main characters... only reversed!
Whether the similarities and parallels I found are intentional or merely coincidental, this book grabbed me from the very first. Stuart makes you passionately care about his characters, even with all their flaws and mistakes and misunderstandings. No small feat, that. He also makes you feel the raw winds that blow through the corner of Scotland he describes, feel the beauty of the landscape and even of the beauty and dignity of the unforgiving, hardscrapple (sic?) lives of his characters.
Many thanks to NetGalley, the author, and the publishers for a digital ARC of this book in exchange for my honest opinions. Highly recommend.
My first Douglas Stuart book is *John of John*, and I can see why readers love his writing. Although the book is four hundred pages, it feels lush and expansive, offering so much to take in. Stuart’s style is funny, heart wrenching, and melancholic, often all within a single verse.
The story follows a father and a son and explores what happens when long kept secrets are revealed and when their relationship does not match the expectations either of them carries.
John and Cal Macleod are brought back together when Cal returns home to Harris, Ireland, after being unable to find a job following his graduation from fashion school. He slips back into life on the family farm, tending sheep, working at a local pub, and trying to make ends meet. John, a strict Presbyterian preacher, refuses to accept who Cal truly is. “If I do not ask Jesus to save me, do you think I will really go to hell”
They live with Cal’s grandmother, Ella, who becomes one of the most memorable figures in the novel. John of John will make you laugh out loud because its characters are unlike anyone you have met before.
“There were times when he felt he knew his son better than he knew himself. There were other times when Cal looked at him with some distance, when John thought: Oh, I do not know this man at all.”
Throughout the book, there are moments of breathtaking description that I found myself rereading simply to take in their beauty.
“The pancake had arrived on a piece of flat cardboard as though she had known he would lock himself in his room and had the foresight to bake something flat and find something thin enough to slide it in on.”
Overall, "John of John" is a story about fathers and sons, about relationships that may or may not be mended, about hidden truths, and about the search for happiness. I especially loved that the story is set in the nineties. There are references to The Cure, The Inspiral Carpets, John Hughes, and Top Gun, all things I grew up with and remember fondly.
While things seem to tear apart at the seams, families will find a reckoning, unlike anything you've read before. John of John is another great Douglas Stuart book!
It’s the late 90’s and John-Calum Macleod (Cal) is a 22-year-old recent graduate from art/textile school. Cal’s Puritanical father, the more senior 'John' in the story, convinces his son to ditch the metropolitan mainland and return to the family farm that sits on a speck of land in the Iles of Scotland. As Cal rides the ferry back home, coming down off ecstasy and concealing his long-dyed hair and sexuality, we gain a sense of the secrets that complicate his return. This book forces reader to contemplate early and often whether lies are less painful than truths.
Our setting shines with colors richer than the dour gray skylines. For generations the Macleod’s weaved every shade of the spectrum in their family loom, transforming wool into vibrant creations. Ultra-religious dad lives with his hoot of a mother, Ella, and she and Cal are close, often co-conspirators. To amplify family dynamics even further, when Cal was nine his mother walked out on him and his zealot Dad to settle down with John's older brother on the other side of the island. Douglas Stuart sets the pins wobbling before a ball is even rolled.
Sexuality and religion fuse into a beautiful literary experience in John of John. A universe of characters come alive and populate the tiny islands with stark realism. As a straight guy I wondered how deeply I would connect with the personal struggles of closeted gay characters, but this author has so many fascinating flourishes (farming, weaving, CB radios, church politics), he creates a story about relationships sure to appeal to wide audiences. It’s less emotionally draining than Shuggie Bain but as artfully composed. The last quarter of the book is impossible to not read in a single setting and morphs into Tom Hardy for modern times. Highly recommended.
Thanks to NetGalley, Edelweiss and Grove Atlantic for a review copy.
I absolutely loved both Shuggie Bain and Young Mungo, so I approached this book with intense excitement and just a touch of worry. What if it wasn't as good? Could an author really knock out 3 bangers in a row? Yes, if the author is Douglas Stuart. I do say this with love, and anyone who has read the first two knows they are somewhat similar in their themes, part of me also wondered if John of John would be as similar to Shuggie and Mungo as they are to each other - but it isn't. There is humor in this, which I don't remember from the other two. Stuart's writing has gotten even better. John of John also deals with some tough subjects, and is absolutely just as emotional, but not as absolutely gut wrenchingly devastating (I also say this with love, because all I want is to weep - Shuggie and Mungo are perfect books for me). There are so so many beautiful lines. I'll share a few below. They aren't necessarily spoilers, but don't read if you'd rather go in completely blind. I also absolutely loved how much Gaelic was in the book. I have been learning Gaelic for a year, and I loved recognizing many of the words and phrases, and learning new ones. I've been to several of the places mentioned and I loved being able to picture these characters there.
10/10
"if he didn't stand his ground then John would scrape at him like the tide until Cal became a shoreline he no longer recognised"
"you make me feel so lonely. I'm right here."
"I have been nothing but a dog at your side for years now.... How ashamed I would be if anyone knew what I had settled for"
"I have let sin into the house. As though sin were black flies and I'm a window he left open"
There is also a scene early on in the book that I found just so beautiful, I had several people read the paragraph. It's about matching yarn to the colors in nature that inspired the threads. Such a quiet, beautiful moment.
I loved this so so much.
Thank you Grove Press and Penguin for sending me the galley I started begging for months ago.
Douglas Stuart is my best friend (in my head) and I love him (in real life)
He NEVER misses, this was an absolutely stunning book and more than on par with Shuggie Bain and Young Mungo, both of which I also adore. The setting, the characters, the writing, just pure beauty and a joy to read.
My favourite tearjerker is back! This is how you write a queer melodrama - no misery porn, no breaking at the highest notes, no sappiness. The added bonus is my growing obsession with everything Scottish, especially the climate. Queerness, melodrama, sea, and rain - I’m as happy as a proverbial clam. More please!
I was lucky enough to read an advanced copy of John of John by Douglas Stuart, it’s a quiet, deeply affecting novel about an isolated community and the ways people learn to live with one another.
The characters are brilliant, especially Ella - what a woman. Strong, complex, unforgettable. The relationship between Cal and John is beautifully frustrating; I loved and hated it in equal measure and often wanted to give them both a shake.
The Outer Hebrides setting is bleak but beautiful and adds so much to the story. Having visited myself, it felt vividly and authentically drawn.
A thoughtful, moving read about people living small lives that turn out not to be small at all.
Men knotted by duty, desire, and the weight of a place that refuses to let them slip free Blown away!
First off, thank you NetGalley and Grove Atlantic for the digital ARC.
My first Douglas Stuart novel and it floored me. This is a queer book in the truest sense – not as a badge, not as decoration but as something lived, feared, guarded and carried across generations. Stuart captures the weight of desire when it sits inside a community that would rather pretend it is not there. He shows how men learn to fold themselves into shapes that please others, how silence hardens into tradition and how love endures even when bruised, compromised or half buried.
The writing is sharp. The place presses in on the characters and the emotional tension never loosens. It is gentle in moments, harsh in others and always honest. The relationships feel cut from real lives: loyal, selfish, devout, tentative, hopeful. Stuart understands queer longing in close quarters, the steep cost of secrecy and the strange relief found in the smallest signs of connection.
This is a novel about men who cannot speak their truth and what happens when that refusal becomes inherited. Bleak, gripping and unexpectedly moving. I was not prepared for the depth of it.
Got my hands on an ARC via NetGalley during Christmas and having saved it for this month, I enjoyed every second. This is my first Douglas Stuart book, yet both Young Mungo and Shuggie Bain are both on my TBR list. This book will be a gift to its prospective readers upon its release. What a gritty yet uplifting story about fathers and sons, community, obligations, and the necessity of the truth. The book is an emotional roller coaster! The characters are undeniably flawed yet I found myself caring for so many of them- especially John-Calum (Cal) and grandmother Ella. And the setting is just perfect. Truly atmospheric and makes for a wintry read. I can’t WAIT for this book to officially be released in May. Don’t miss it.
Another banger by Douglas Stuart. Even though this book deals with a lot of similar themes as his previous works (homophobia, family, heritage), Stuart manages to reinvent himself yet again. I don't think I will ever grow tired of his literary genius!!!
this was a painful revelation, this book. I started reading it as a clean slate because I've never read the works of Douglas Stuart before, but now I can go to a bookshop and buy his books with the trust that it'll be having characters that are human. telling the story of a father and son in a Scottish seaside community, the philosophies, the grief and the secrets they carry.
one sentence that I loved in this book was when the father and his mother in law was having their talk, and when the father was reluctant to lead the life he wants and be honest with his son, the mother in law saying "islands inside islands, inside islands inside islands." That's the only accurate way to describe this book. it's a story inside a story inside a story inside a story. it goes deeper, it gets harder and it gets sadder as it goes. I can remember a single time that I actually laughed while reading this book, and I can vaguely remember the million times that I cried and my heart ached before finishing it. I'm not going to give any spoilers or any hint on the storyline, but if you are someone who loves reading books about simple lives and simple humans who are confused and conflicted, if u like to know how to navigate through life, if u wish to read a book so painfully honest about being gay, then go for it! releasing on may 2026!!!
My thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for the chance to read an ARC of this title in exchange for an honest review.
John-Calum Macleod, Cal, for short, is a closeted university grad with no prospects and a tense relationship with his family. The story begins when he’s guilted into returning home to the isolated island of Harris to help care for his ailing grandmother. Cal's return home is rife with internal conflict; between his tense relationship with his father, and his secret gay identity; Harris is the last place Cal wants to be.
He and his strict Calvinist father, the elder John Macleod, quarrel over almost everything and tensions in the house never cool below a simmer. Cal’s grandmother, Ella, has a deep and shocking non-conformist streak and doesn’t speak a word of Gaelic, leaving her cut out of most of the household conversations. John and Cal brawl like rats in a shoe over the direction Cal’s life is taking. Every interaction becomes a battlefield between a father’s expectations and his son’s desire for self-determination. In the small, tightly woven community, no one’s dirty laundry goes unseen, and the Macleod family has more than most.
To describe the plot any further than this brief outline would risk spoiling a story that should be experienced firsthand; so I’ll stop there.
I was pulled in from the first paragraph and stayed enthralled throughout this novel. The characters, always Stuart’s strong suit, instantly became like real people to me, well-loved and cantankerous relatives maybe. The personal drama of the islanders was doled out with precise timing in a way that kept me acutely intrigued. Who will prevail in the decades-long battle of wills between John and Ella over ownership of the house? Why did Cal’s mother leave and will he ever go to see her? Can Cal keep his sexuality a secret, while remaining true to himself, in this tiny community where snooping and gossip are everyone’s pastime of choice? All these questions and more kept me hooked.
I cannot overstate how enjoyable it was to read a novel composed of such brilliantly beautiful language. Like witnessing a hawk in flight or a shooting star, the elegance of the prose at times compelled stillness and contemplation. It was almost distracting how stunningly well written this book was. Phrases, sentences, and whole paragraphs would stop me dead in my tracks. My e-reader's highlight feature never had so much use.
Douglas Stuart is one of the most talented writers living today and I’m not even exaggerating. Every novel is amazing and they’re only getting more powerful and nuanced the more of them he writes. Stuart’s style is phenomenal and inimitable. He’s able to conjure characters with kaleidoscopically rich inner lives, all too relatable flaws, and thrust them into dramatic circumstances that smack of Greek Tragedy. He has Thomas Hardy's gift for depicting natural beauty in a lovingly evocative yet unsentimental way and then layering that alongside the human suffering of the characters who populate his work. He writes with such a deft hand that the mundane and even squalid scenes of everyday life become somehow charming and charged with meaning.
I can’t really find flaws in this novel even though I’m someone who loves critiquing and picking apart things they like. This book is not simply good, it’s uncommonly, startlingly, excellent. I’ve read one hundred other books this year, John of John is my favorite by far. Even in a year of many outstanding books, the contest wasn’t even close.
“innes looked up and saw himself in the mirror. the old fool grasping at ghosts.”
i have consistently enjoyed all of douglas stuart’s novels – shuggie bain was truly special, and young mungo had me weeping towards the end. but i think john of john might be his best work yet – its characters are so deeply humane (innes! i love you so much!) and the story is just the quietest, most beautiful thing i have read in a while. stuart’s prose is stunning, and he perfectly conveys the humid, quiet ambience of the northern scottish island where the story is set; a story about queer men, about fathers and sons and grandmothers and childhood friends, about aging and seeing oneself in your child, and also about being that grown child who looks—really looks—at their parent for the first time; not as a parent, but as a human being. john’s perspective was complex and beautiful, and i ultimately enjoyed this more than i ever thought i would (mind you, my expectations were already quite high going into it). i think it may well be among my favourite books of 2025, and i cannot wait for this to come out so that i can pester everyone i know about it.
many thanks to netgalley for providing me with an arc in exchange for an honest review.
*Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for an advance reader copy of this novel in exchange for an honest review.*
John of John follows John-Calum Macleod who goes by Cal as he takes the ferry back home to the island of Harris. Cal left the island to go to college but he hasn’t managed to find a job and he has run out of money. On the island he lives with John, his father and Ella, his grandmother in his childhood home. Cal has changed but everyone on the island has stayed the same. His father cannot understand why Cal doesn’t have the same values as him and he struggles to connect with Cal. John has secrets of his own though and they could bring him and Cal together.
This book is very special to me and I think this is Stuart’s best work. This is set on an island and the atmosphere is just spectacular. This is such a quiet novel and so much is said in this. I haven’t loved Stuart’s other novels but I think this stands out to me because of the island setting. It was easy to understand Cal and John and at times it was painful to read their miscommunications. John is definitely a complex character but living on an isolated island has made him that way. Cal likes living on the island but he wants to be himself and he can’t do that where he lives. I love the way this depicts connection both familial and romantic. John’s story is particularly impactful and the ending was beautiful.
It was an incredibly immersive experience to read John of John. It's a unique story about family, roots, duty, love and difficulties of living in a small community that struggles to make a living. Stuart crafted a spectacular cast of characters, and I appreciated the complexities of their personalities, as well as their relationships with one another. The father-son relationship between John and Cal felt extremely real and it was very interesting to watch it evolve throughout the novel. I also loved the women in this story, Ella and Isla, always in the background, yet still extremely important to the plot. Innes's storyline made my heart ache many times, and I grew particularly fond of him as well. The setting was masterfully crafted, and transported me effortlessly to a Scottish island that I never even tried to picture before. It complemented the quietness of the story, which remains its greatest strength in my opinion. I absolutely loved the ending, which I didn't see coming. I do wish we’d had an epilogue to see what happens next - especially with the younger characters - but I understand it might have lessened the ending’s impact. Nevertheless, there were some plot points that bothered me slightly. One major one - which I won’t reveal here - occurs in the second half of the book and involves a relationship development that disturbed me quite a bit. It was my first Douglas Stuart's novel, and it definitely won't be my last. I'm itching to pick up his previous works after this read.
Thank you Groove Atlantic and NetGalley for the ARC of this novel.
Thank you so much @picadorbooks for sending me this masterpiece 6 months ahead of release. I can still remember exactly where I was sitting when I found out that Douglas Stuart had written another book, and I can safely say that I have never been this excited to see a story being released into the world. Douglas Stuart is a writer who will be marvelled at for generations to come, and rightly so, his writing is a true gift.
John of John is a life affirming, deeply profound book, a story so rich with love, grief and longing that I felt as though my heart was falling out of my chest as I turned the pages. I’m not sure that I have ever yearned for characters to find happiness, resolution and belonging in such a desperate way before, I cared about their lives with such ferocity, and I always will. With a narrative as raw and gritty as the landscape itself, John of John asks us a multitude of important questions about human connection, identity, and ultimately, survival.
John of John is nothing short of a work of art, and I would not be at all surprised if Douglas Stuart becomes a second time Booker winner for this astounding novel.
This is my first Douglas Stuart and I cannot wait to read more of him. There's never any big, explosive climax to this novel. It's quiet in a way that mirror's the repression, religion, and secrets that haunt its characters. There's a lot of pent of rage, fights behind doors, whispering behind walls, and talking on the cold, isolated landscapes of this rural island off of Scotland. Reading this, I felt like I was there with these characters. They are so beautifully painted and fleshed out. Stuart's writing is stunning, with humor and highlight-able moments on almost page. I felt deeply for John and Cal and loved their strong-willed Grandma/in-law. So glad I was able to sneak in this last 5-star before the end of 2025.
Thank you NetGalley and Grove Press for this early read! I absolutely devoured it and have been left gutted now that it’s finished. I love Stuart’s writing so I was not disappointed. This book is full of hurt, and life, and love and all these things mixed together as one. It is heavy and grapples with topics of religion, society, sexuality, drugs, alcohol, and community. A truly beautiful read by Stuart!
Douglas Stuart approaches masculinity and queerness with such a tender yet raw approach. It feels like he gently cuts you open but the wound won’t heal until you finish the book.