If Douglas Stuart’s first two novels, Shuggy Bain and Young Mungo, were black and white studies of an unrelentingly bleak gay adolescence in Glasgow, the Scottish – American’s author’s third book, John of John, places his young queer protagonist on the island of Lewis and Harris, in the Outer Hebrides, where the harshness of life is offset by the beauty of nature and where the darkness of the landscape is pierced with shafts of sunlight and colour.

John-Callum Macleod is living penniless in Edinburgh after graduating from art college, where he studied textile design. It’s the early nineties, and there is no work to be had in the city. His father, John, a handsome, strict, Presbyterian shepherd and weaver, summons him to Harris to help care for his grandmother. Much to his father’s displeasure, Cal returns home looking like Kurt Cobain, with long dyed hair and grungy clothes, listening to The Jesus and Mary Chain on his Walkman. Hidden in a black bin bag, he carries a stunningly beautiful dress he made while at college. He has not yet come out to his family.

John Senior is divorced from Cal’s mother, Grace, but is still living with Ella, Grace’s earthy Glaswegian mother, in her croft. Despite an interest in literature, his limited world revolves around sheep, tweed, the church, and his only pal, Innes.

This story follows the fraught relationships between a stern father, a canny mother-in-law, a saintlike friend, and a prodigal son within the tight religious community where they live. It’s a gut-wrenching tale of love and loneliness.

Cal’s closest friends are brother and sister Doll and Isla, who, trapped by poverty and under the influence of the church, have seldom left the island. Since he has been away, they have lost their innocence. Doll, a hulk of a lad who works on fishing boats, has taken to drink, while the lovely Isla, whom everyone thinks is Cal’s girlfriend, is experimenting with sex – but not with Cal.

As John’s continuing fury with Cal’s disobedience turns into violence, Cal is torn between staying or moving back to the mainland. Even after John’s anger has subsided, the tension between the men is palpable.

However, a series of dramatic events linking friends and family lead to a realisation which will change the relationship between father and son forever. Stuart teases us with possibilities, but the final outcome is truly unexpected.

Douglas Stuart is more than a queer Scottish voice crying in the wilderness. His poignant writing transcends place and time. He is a master storyteller whose prose paints compelling portraits of his characters, while his dialogue is skilfully crafted to convey their inner feelings.