Father and Son

Scottish writer Douglas Stuart, author of the Booker Prize winning Shuggie Bain (2020) and Young Mungo (2022), has once again showcased his gifts as a novelist in John of John (2026).

Twenty-two year old John-Calum McLeod, known as Cal, is struggling to find his way after finishing his art school studies in Scotland. His father, John McLeod, tells him he should come home to Falabay, on the isle of Harris, because his grandmother Ella is unwell. Cal loves Ella and has nothing keeping him on the mainland, so he journeys back to his hometown. 

When Cal arrives he finds that Ella is not as infirm as he was led to believe, but perhaps his father wanted him home to help with the weaving and sheep farming on the croft. The relationship between father and son is strained and neither understands the other. John is deeply religious and has strong views about how one should behave. His son is not devout and does not live up to his father's expectations. But both men are more similar than they know - each hiding their true selves and suffering from this repression. 

In this claustrophobic croft, Ella, John and Cal stifle each other. John deliberately speaks Gaelic so that Ella won't understand, while Cal and Ella share in-jokes. The community is full of families like this - burdened by secrets, fearful of shame, desperately lonely, and bound by a deep Calvinist faith and familial love. They hold their kin close, but keep them distant by failing to share their true selves. As Ella says to John, they are 'islands within islands, within islands, within islands'. Their inability to express themselves fully, to even those they purport to be closest to, is a recurrent theme.

John of John is a fascinating and empathetic character study - the people in Falabay are complex, flawed, nuanced and wholly believable. Stuart is such a gifted writer that he can take challenging themes - closeted homosexuality, infidelity, addiction, desire, violence, repression and shame - and reveal them sensitively and without judgement. 

Likewise, the Hebridean landscape is beautifully rendered - bleak, wet, cold and windswept - with a suffocating isolation. I also loved the depictions of weaving and the way in which Cal and John can name the various hues of wool - mauve, ecru, azure, blush - but cannot name their feelings. 

For a story of heartbreak and unspoken queer desire, set in an isolating and rigid community, there was a lightness and hope to this story. I will be thinking about Cal, John, Ella, Innes, Isla and the other characters I have come to love, and wishing them nothing but love and happiness.