John of John by Douglas Stuart (2026): A Review

Title: John of John

Author: Douglas Stuart

Publication Year: May 5, 2026

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Pages: 416

Source: audiobook

Genre: literary fiction, LGBT, historical fiction

Awards: Finalist for the 2026 Orwell Prize for Political Fiction; Longlisted for the 2026 Booker Prize

Have you ever read a book about a deeply personal pain that you know will stay with you for a long time? Douglas Stuart’s John of John is one of those books.

It is a novel that shows, rather than tells, how institutions meant to protect the soul and body can become the very forces that condemn both. Stuart does not shout this message at the reader; he lets it emerge through family, silence, shame, faith, and the damage they leave behind.

The novel follows Cal, who is summoned back home from the city under the pretence of caring for his grandmother. What he returns to is an oppressive family dynamic filled with secrets, control, and unspoken violence. At first, it may seem that Cal is the one carrying the central secret, but the deeper pain lies in the world around him: the family, the small Highland community, and the religious bigotry that shapes their lives.

What makes the book so powerful is its portrayal of religious trauma. Stuart captures how belief, when turned into punishment and control, can take life and livelihood from those it is supposed to protect. The pain in this novel is not abstract; it is intimate, inherited, and devastating.

I often wanted someone to blame. John, in particular, becomes an almost unbearable figure. Yet Stuart’s writing complicates even that anger. By the end, the target of blame feels larger than one person. It is a whole system of fear, repression, and sanctified cruelty.

Despite the heaviness of the story, the book is difficult to put down. I listened to the audiobook over several weeks, mostly while commuting or at the gym, but if I had had the physical copy, I think I would have read it quickly, furious and heartbroken at the lives stolen from these characters.

Stuart’s greatest strength here is restraint. He trusts the reader. He does not use a megaphone to announce the novel’s politics or pain; he builds a world in which the consequences are impossible to ignore. The story, style, and emotional weight work together with remarkable subtlety.

And that ending. I will not spoil it, but I finished the book feeling deeply proud of Cal.