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If certain novelists enjoy an golden phase, in which they reach the heights consistently, then U.S. writer John Irving’s ran through a series of several long, rewarding novels, from his 1978 success His Garp Novel to 1989’s A Prayer for Owen Meany. Those were rich, funny, compassionate novels, connecting protagonists he describes as “outsiders” to societal topics from feminism to termination.

Following His Owen Meany Novel, it’s been diminishing outcomes, aside from in page length. His most recent book, 2022’s The Chairlift Book, was nine hundred pages long of subjects Irving had examined better in prior novels (selective mutism, restricted growth, trans issues), with a 200-page screenplay in the center to fill it out – as if filler were required.

So we come to a recent Irving with reservation but still a tiny spark of expectation, which shines brighter when we discover that Queen Esther – a only four hundred thirty-two pages in length – “returns to the world of The Cider House Rules”. That 1985 work is among Irving’s very best books, located largely in an institution in the town of St Cloud’s, operated by Dr Larch and his apprentice Homer.

Queen Esther is a failure from a author who once gave such joy

In His Cider House Novel, Irving wrote about abortion and acceptance with vibrancy, comedy and an comprehensive compassion. And it was a important book because it abandoned the topics that were evolving into tiresome tics in his novels: grappling, ursine creatures, the city of Vienna, the oldest profession.

Queen Esther begins in the imaginary town of the Penacook area in the beginning of the 1900s, where Mr. and Mrs. Winslow welcome young foundling the title character from the orphanage. We are a few years ahead of the action of The Cider House Rules, yet the doctor stays recognisable: already dependent on ether, beloved by his nurses, starting every speech with “At St Cloud's...” But his appearance in the book is restricted to these early parts.

The Winslows are concerned about parenting Esther correctly: she’s from a Jewish background, and “in what way could they help a adolescent girl of Jewish descent discover her identity?” To tackle that, we jump ahead to Esther’s adulthood in the twenties era. She will be part of the Jewish emigration to the region, where she will become part of the Haganah, the pro-Zionist militant organisation whose “purpose was to protect Jewish towns from hostile actions” and which would eventually establish the core of the Israeli Defense Forces.

Those are massive themes to tackle, but having brought in them, Irving backs away. Because if it’s frustrating that Queen Esther is not actually about St Cloud’s and Dr Larch, it’s even more upsetting that it’s likewise not focused on Esther. For motivations that must relate to plot engineering, Esther turns into a surrogate mother for a different of the couple's offspring, and delivers to a son, the boy, in 1941 – and the lion's share of this novel is his tale.

And here is where Irving’s obsessions reappear loudly, both regular and distinct. Jimmy goes to – of course – the city; there’s discussion of evading the draft notice through self-harm (Owen Meany); a pet with a meaningful title (Hard Rain, recall the earlier dog from Hotel New Hampshire); as well as the sport, sex workers, novelists and male anatomy (Irving’s recurring).

The character is a less interesting figure than Esther suggested to be, and the secondary players, such as students the pair, and Jimmy’s teacher Annelies Eissler, are flat too. There are several nice scenes – Jimmy his first sexual experience; a brawl where a handful of ruffians get assaulted with a walking aid and a tire pump – but they’re brief.

Irving has never been a nuanced author, but that is is not the issue. He has consistently restated his ideas, foreshadowed narrative turns and let them to build up in the audience's thoughts before leading them to completion in lengthy, jarring, amusing scenes. For instance, in Irving’s works, physical elements tend to go missing: recall the oral part in Garp, the hand part in Owen Meany. Those missing pieces reverberate through the plot. In the book, a key character is deprived of an upper extremity – but we merely discover thirty pages the finish.

Esther reappears toward the end in the novel, but merely with a eleventh-hour sense of wrapping things up. We never do find out the entire account of her life in the Middle East. Queen Esther is a disappointment from a writer who once gave such joy. That’s the bad news. The good news is that His Classic Novel – I reread it in parallel to this work – yet stands up excellently, 40 years on. So choose the earlier work instead: it’s twice as long as this book, but 12 times as great.