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If some authors have an imperial period, where they achieve the heights consistently, then U.S. writer John Irving’s ran through a run of several substantial, gratifying novels, from his late-seventies hit The World According to Garp to the 1989 release A Prayer for Owen Meany. These were rich, funny, compassionate works, connecting protagonists he describes as “outliers” to social issues from feminism to reproductive rights.

After A Prayer for Owen Meany, it’s been diminishing results, aside from in word count. His most recent work, the 2022 release The Chairlift Book, was 900 pages of themes Irving had examined better in prior books (mutism, restricted growth, transgenderism), with a 200-page screenplay in the middle to pad it out – as if padding were necessary.

So we look at a new Irving with reservation but still a small flame of expectation, which burns stronger when we discover that Queen Esther – a only four hundred thirty-two pages in length – “revisits the universe of The Cider House Novel”. That 1985 work is one of Irving’s top-tier novels, located primarily in an orphanage in the town of St Cloud’s, operated by Dr Wilbur Larch and his protege Homer.

This novel is a letdown from a author who in the past gave such delight

In His Cider House Novel, Irving explored abortion and acceptance with vibrancy, wit and an all-encompassing compassion. And it was a important work because it moved past the themes that were turning into annoying habits in his novels: wrestling, bears, the city of Vienna, sex work.

This book begins in the fictional community of Penacook, New Hampshire in the twentieth century's dawn, where the Winslow couple welcome young orphan Esther from the orphanage. We are a a number of decades ahead of the action of The Cider House Rules, yet Dr Larch is still recognisable: even then dependent on anesthetic, adored by his staff, starting every address with “At St Cloud's...” But his presence in the book is confined to these early scenes.

The family fret about bringing up Esther correctly: she’s of Jewish faith, and “how might they help a adolescent Jewish girl understand her place?” To answer that, we move forward to Esther’s later life in the twenties era. She will be part of the Jewish emigration to Palestine, where she will become part of Haganah, the Zionist militant force whose “purpose was to safeguard Jewish settlements from Arab attacks” and which would later form the foundation of the Israel's military.

Those are huge subjects to tackle, but having presented them, Irving avoids them. Because if it’s disappointing that the novel is hardly about St Cloud’s and the doctor, it’s all the more disappointing that it’s additionally not about Esther. For reasons that must connect to narrative construction, Esther becomes a gestational carrier for another of the Winslows’ offspring, and gives birth to a male child, the boy, in the early forties – and the bulk of this novel is Jimmy’s narrative.

And at this point is where Irving’s obsessions come roaring back, both typical and distinct. Jimmy goes to – naturally – the city; there’s discussion of avoiding the Vietnam draft through bodily injury (A Prayer for Owen Meany); a canine with a meaningful designation (the animal, remember the canine from Hotel New Hampshire); as well as the sport, prostitutes, novelists and genitalia (Irving’s throughout).

Jimmy is a less interesting persona than the heroine hinted to be, and the supporting players, such as young people Claude and Jolanda, and Jimmy’s tutor Eissler, are underdeveloped too. There are a few nice episodes – Jimmy losing his virginity; a fight where a couple of ruffians get beaten with a crutch and a bicycle pump – but they’re brief.

Irving has never been a subtle author, but that is is not the issue. He has consistently restated his arguments, hinted at narrative turns and let them to build up in the reader’s imagination before leading them to resolution in long, surprising, entertaining moments. For instance, in Irving’s works, body parts tend to go missing: recall the speech organ in Garp, the hand part in Owen Meany. Those missing pieces resonate through the story. In this novel, a key character suffers the loss of an limb – but we merely find out 30 pages the end.

Esther returns in the final part in the novel, but just with a final feeling of ending the story. We never do find out the full account of her experiences in Palestine and Israel. Queen Esther is a disappointment from a writer who in the past gave such delight. That’s the downside. The good news is that The Cider House Rules – revisiting it in parallel to this novel – yet remains wonderfully, after forty years. So read the earlier work in its place: it’s double the length as Queen Esther, but far as good.