"John of John" | Reviewed by Chris Stuckenschneider

Two months ago, I was in a bookstore in a small town in England when I saw that Douglas Stuart had presented on his much-lauded book “John of John” the night before. What bad luck that I missed him—but what good luck after all. The shop had signed copies. Still, I hesitated. Toting a hardcover in an over-stuffed suitcase might not work. I gave in to blatant desire and remain grateful, counting this novel as one of my favorites.

Stuart has set his beautifully written story in the Hebrides of Scotland, on a remote island steeped in Presbyterian Calvinism, a close knit community of weavers. Men’s men live there, tough masculine males who know their place, and keep women in their place. Day-to-day life in fictional Falabay isn’t easy—as evidenced by hands calloused by weaving wool, cutting peat and tending sheep, and legs roped with muscles formed by “hill walking.”

John Macleod is such a man, a hard worker and deacon in the church, a Presbyterian to the core with a strict moral code, often appearing hard and heartless. John’s wife Grace left him years ago and took up with his brother, giving fodder to the gossips in Falabay. John was left to raise his son Cal, with help from Cal’s beloved grandmother Ella, who lived with them. Cal is devoted to her, while John finds Ella a thorn in his side. Why is his former mother-in-law, his responsibility, John bemoans.

When Ella’s health deteriorates, John contacts Cal, who is living in Edinburgh, where he’s graduated from textile college. Unable to find work, and without direction, Cal has been leaning on friends for food and shelter. Cal is gay, and messes with drugs and drink. His father has no idea that Cal prefers men, instead choses to believe his son is a womanizer. Cal returns home, knowing it won’t be easy, yet his devotion to Ella trumps his father’s judgement and brash demeanor.

Soon their home becomes a battlefield, mental and physical rains down on Cal, days of silence following the altercations as Cal distances himself from his father. Cal keeps his secret as he nurses his wounds, carousing with his friend Doll Macdonald, who he’d hoped to take up with again, but Doll wants no part of that any longer. Cal finds more intimacy and loyalty from Doll’s sister, Isla, a comely girl the villagers hope Cal will marry, which would keep the young couple in Falaby.

Another major character is John’s friend from childhood Innes MacInnes, a quiet, sensitive farmer who raises sheep and lives with his infirm father and mean-spirited brother. John and Innes are very different from one another but their bond is sinewy strong. Innes has empathy and patience with Cal and tries to lessen the fury John feels when he can’t control Cal’s actions or force his son to see the right way to live. In truth, John loves his son and is trying to save him from the heartache and life he has lived.

“John of John” has been described as an emotional book, and it surely is. Stuart has created strong, relatable characters who readers will invest in, root for, speak to as if they’ve stepped out of the text. Their hardscrabble lifestyle may necessitate their brittle shells but in their hearts each has a nest of softness where love resides. This is a treasure of a book, one that will stay with readers long after the last page. It’s recently been named to the Booker Long List—no other novel could be more deserving.

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