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If some writers experience an peak period, during which they hit the pinnacle repeatedly, then U.S. author John Irving’s extended through a run of four substantial, satisfying books, from his late-seventies breakthrough The World According to Garp to the 1989 release Owen Meany. Those were generous, funny, warm works, connecting protagonists he calls “misfits” to social issues from feminism to reproductive rights.

Since A Prayer for Owen Meany, it’s been diminishing results, save in word count. His last novel, the 2022 release His Last Chairlift Novel, was 900 pages long of subjects Irving had delved into more effectively in previous books (inability to speak, short stature, trans issues), with a lengthy film script in the middle to extend it – as if extra material were required.

So we look at a new Irving with reservation but still a tiny glimmer of hope, which glows stronger when we learn that His Queen Esther Novel – a mere 432 pages in length – “returns to the setting of The Cider House Rules”. That mid-eighties book is part of Irving’s very best novels, set primarily in an institution in the town of St Cloud’s, operated by Dr Wilbur Larch and his apprentice Wells.

The book is a letdown from a author who once gave such joy

In The Cider House Rules, Irving discussed termination and belonging with vibrancy, wit and an all-encompassing understanding. And it was a major novel because it abandoned the topics that were turning into annoying habits in his books: the sport of wrestling, bears, Austrian capital, sex work.

Queen Esther begins in the fictional town of the Penacook area in the early 20th century, where the Winslow couple adopt 14-year-old orphan the title character from St Cloud's home. We are a a number of decades before the events of His Earlier Novel, yet the doctor remains identifiable: already dependent on ether, respected by his nurses, opening every talk with “At St Cloud's...” But his presence in the book is confined to these initial sections.

The Winslows worry about parenting Esther properly: she’s from a Jewish background, and “how might they help a young Jewish girl discover her identity?” To answer that, we flash forward to Esther’s later life in the twenties era. She will be part of the Jewish migration to the region, where she will join the paramilitary group, the Zionist armed group whose “purpose was to safeguard Jewish communities from opposition” and which would subsequently become the basis of the Israel's military.

Such are massive subjects to take on, but having presented them, Irving avoids them. Because if it’s frustrating that the novel is hardly about St Cloud’s and Wilbur Larch, it’s still more upsetting that it’s likewise not really concerning Esther. For reasons that must relate to story mechanics, Esther ends up as a substitute parent for another of the Winslows’ daughters, and bears to a baby boy, the boy, in the early forties – and the bulk of this book is his narrative.

And here is where Irving’s obsessions come roaring back, both regular and distinct. Jimmy relocates to – naturally – the Austrian capital; there’s mention of evading the military conscription through bodily injury (Owen Meany); a canine with a significant name (the animal, recall the canine from His Hotel Novel); as well as wrestling, sex workers, writers and penises (Irving’s passim).

Jimmy is a more mundane persona than Esther suggested to be, and the secondary players, such as young people Claude and Jolanda, and Jimmy’s teacher Annelies Eissler, are one-dimensional as well. There are some enjoyable episodes – Jimmy losing his virginity; a confrontation where a few thugs get beaten with a support and a tire pump – but they’re here and gone.

Irving has never been a subtle author, but that is is not the difficulty. He has consistently restated his points, hinted at story twists and allowed them to build up in the audience's imagination before bringing them to resolution in long, shocking, funny scenes. For instance, in Irving’s books, anatomical features tend to be lost: remember the speech organ in Garp, the finger in His Owen Book. Those absences echo through the narrative. In Queen Esther, a central person is deprived of an upper extremity – but we just find out 30 pages later the finish.

She returns late in the book, but only with a eleventh-hour sense of wrapping things up. We do not learn the entire story of her life in the region. The book is a failure from a author who in the past gave such delight. That’s the negative aspect. The positive note is that His Classic Novel – upon rereading alongside this novel – yet holds up excellently, 40 years on. So choose it as an alternative: it’s much longer as this book, but a dozen times as great.