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If some novelists experience an golden period, in which they achieve the summit repeatedly, then U.S. author John Irving’s lasted through a series of several fat, satisfying books, from his 1978 hit His Garp Novel to 1989’s His Owen Meany Book. Those were rich, humorous, warm works, tying figures he describes as “outsiders” to societal topics from gender equality to abortion.

Following Owen Meany, it’s been diminishing returns, aside from in size. His last book, 2022’s His Last Chairlift Novel, was 900 pages long of subjects Irving had delved into more skillfully in previous works (selective mutism, short stature, trans issues), with a 200-page script in the center to extend it – as if padding were needed.

So we look at a latest Irving with caution but still a small flame of expectation, which shines stronger when we learn that His Queen Esther Novel – a only 432 pages in length – “returns to the universe of His Cider House Rules”. That mid-eighties work is among Irving’s very best works, located largely in an children's home in the town of St Cloud’s, managed by Dr Larch and his protege Homer.

Queen Esther is a disappointment from a author who in the past gave such pleasure

In Cider House, Irving wrote about termination and acceptance with vibrancy, comedy and an comprehensive empathy. And it was a important work because it left behind the subjects that were turning into repetitive tics in his books: wrestling, ursine creatures, the city of Vienna, sex work.

This book opens in the fictional community of the Penacook area in the twentieth century's dawn, where the Winslow couple take in young foundling the title character from St Cloud's home. We are a several generations before the events of Cider House, yet Wilbur Larch stays identifiable: even then dependent on ether, adored by his staff, starting every talk with “Here in St Cloud’s …” But his appearance in the book is confined to these early scenes.

The family fret about bringing up Esther correctly: she’s Jewish, and “how might they help a young girl of Jewish descent discover her identity?” To address that, we flash forward to Esther’s grown-up years in the 1920s. She will be a member of the Jewish emigration to Palestine, where she will enter Haganah, the Jewish nationalist paramilitary organisation whose “purpose was to defend Jewish communities from Arab attacks” and which would later form the foundation of the Israeli Defense Forces.

These are massive subjects to address, but having presented them, Irving dodges out. Because if it’s frustrating that Queen Esther is hardly about St Cloud's and the doctor, it’s even more disappointing that it’s also not really concerning the titular figure. For reasons that must involve story mechanics, Esther becomes a gestational carrier for another of the Winslows’ offspring, and gives birth to a male child, Jimmy, in World War II era – and the majority of this novel is Jimmy’s story.

And here is where Irving’s preoccupations return strongly, both common and distinct. Jimmy relocates to – naturally – the city; there’s discussion of avoiding the military conscription through self-harm (His Earlier Book); a canine with a meaningful designation (the animal, recall Sorrow from Hotel New Hampshire); as well as the sport, prostitutes, authors and genitalia (Irving’s passim).

The character is a less interesting persona than the female lead suggested to be, and the supporting characters, such as students the two students, and Jimmy’s teacher Annelies Eissler, are one-dimensional too. There are a few nice episodes – Jimmy his first sexual experience; a confrontation where a couple of thugs get battered with a crutch and a bicycle pump – but they’re here and gone.

Irving has not ever been a delicate writer, but that is is not the issue. He has consistently restated his ideas, foreshadowed plot developments and enabled them to gather in the reader’s mind before leading them to resolution in extended, surprising, entertaining moments. For instance, in Irving’s novels, physical elements tend to be lost: think of the speech organ in The Garp Novel, the finger in His Owen Book. Those losses reverberate through the plot. In Queen Esther, a central figure loses an limb – but we just learn thirty pages the finish.

The protagonist returns late in the book, but just with a final feeling of wrapping things up. We never discover the entire narrative of her experiences in the region. Queen Esther is a failure from a novelist who in the past gave such joy. That’s the negative aspect. The positive note is that His Classic Novel – I reread it alongside this novel – still holds up beautifully, 40 years on. So choose that instead: it’s twice as long as this book, but 12 times as good.