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If a few writers experience an golden period, in which they achieve the summit repeatedly, then American novelist John Irving’s lasted through a sequence of four fat, satisfying books, from his 1978 breakthrough Garp to the 1989 release A Prayer for Owen Meany. Such were expansive, funny, compassionate works, connecting characters he describes as “outliers” to social issues from women's rights to termination.

After Owen Meany, it’s been declining results, except in size. His most recent novel, 2022’s The Chairlift Book, was nine hundred pages of topics Irving had explored more effectively in earlier works (selective mutism, short stature, transgenderism), with a lengthy film script in the middle to pad it out – as if extra material were required.

Thus we come to a new Irving with reservation but still a faint flame of hope, which shines hotter when we discover that Queen Esther – a only four hundred thirty-two pages in length – “goes back to the setting of The Cider House Novel”. That 1985 book is one of Irving’s top-tier novels, taking place mostly in an orphanage in the town of St Cloud’s, run by Dr Larch and his assistant Wells.

Queen Esther is a failure from a writer who in the past gave such delight

In His Cider House Novel, Irving wrote about abortion and acceptance with vibrancy, comedy and an comprehensive understanding. And it was a major work because it left behind the topics that were turning into repetitive patterns in his novels: the sport of wrestling, wild bears, Vienna, the oldest profession.

Queen Esther begins in the imaginary village of the Penacook area in the early 20th century, where Mr. and Mrs. Winslow take in teenage foundling Esther from St Cloud's home. We are a several decades before the storyline of The Cider House Rules, yet the doctor is still identifiable: even then dependent on the drug, respected by his caregivers, starting every talk with “Here in St Cloud’s …” But his role in Queen Esther is restricted to these opening parts.

The couple are concerned about raising Esther properly: she’s Jewish, and “how could they help a young girl of Jewish descent understand her place?” To address that, we move forward to Esther’s later life in the twenties era. She will be part of the Jewish migration to Palestine, where she will become part of the paramilitary group, the Jewish nationalist paramilitary group whose “goal was to safeguard Jewish settlements from hostile actions” and which would subsequently establish the basis of the IDF.

These are huge subjects to tackle, but having introduced them, Irving avoids them. Because if it’s frustrating that the novel is not really about the orphanage and the doctor, it’s still more upsetting that it’s additionally not really concerning Esther. For reasons that must relate to plot engineering, Esther becomes a gestational carrier for a different of the couple's offspring, and gives birth to a baby boy, the boy, in the early forties – and the lion's share of this book is his narrative.

And now is where Irving’s preoccupations reappear loudly, both regular and specific. Jimmy moves to – where else? – the city; there’s mention of dodging the military conscription through self-harm (His Earlier Book); a canine with a meaningful name (Hard Rain, recall the earlier dog from His Hotel Novel); as well as grappling, sex workers, authors and penises (Irving’s recurring).

The character is a less interesting figure than the female lead hinted to be, and the minor figures, such as students the two students, and Jimmy’s tutor Annelies Eissler, are flat also. There are a few enjoyable episodes – Jimmy losing his virginity; a fight where a few ruffians get assaulted with a walking aid and a air pump – but they’re brief.

Irving has not ever been a subtle writer, but that is isn't the difficulty. He has consistently reiterated his ideas, foreshadowed story twists and enabled them to gather in the viewer's mind before leading them to fruition in extended, shocking, entertaining moments. For case, in Irving’s novels, physical elements tend to disappear: remember the speech organ in Garp, the finger in Owen Meany. Those losses reverberate through the story. In the book, a key character suffers the loss of an arm – but we merely learn 30 pages later the finish.

She reappears toward the end in the story, but just with a last-minute feeling of wrapping things up. We do not do find out the entire story of her experiences in the region. Queen Esther is a disappointment from a writer who previously gave such delight. That’s the negative aspect. The upside is that Cider House – I reread it alongside this book – yet stands up excellently, 40 years on. So choose it as an alternative: it’s twice as long as the new novel, but far as great.