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If a few novelists experience an peak phase, where they reach the summit consistently, then U.S. author John Irving’s extended through a series of four fat, rewarding books, from his 1978 hit The World According to Garp to the 1989 release Owen Meany. These were rich, funny, warm novels, linking protagonists he calls “outsiders” to societal topics from feminism to reproductive rights.

Since A Prayer for Owen Meany, it’s been declining returns, save in page length. His most recent novel, the 2022 release The Chairlift Book, was 900 pages of subjects Irving had delved into better in previous books (selective mutism, short stature, transgenderism), with a two-hundred-page script in the center to fill it out – as if filler were necessary.

So we approach a latest Irving with caution but still a small glimmer of expectation, which shines stronger when we discover that His Queen Esther Novel – a only 432 pages long – “returns to the setting of His Cider House Rules”. That 1985 book is among Irving’s top-tier books, taking place largely in an institution in Maine's St Cloud’s, operated by Dr Larch and his protege Homer Wells.

The book is a failure from a novelist who in the past gave such joy

In Cider House, Irving wrote about abortion and identity with richness, comedy and an total understanding. And it was a significant novel because it left behind the subjects that were becoming repetitive patterns in his novels: the sport of wrestling, wild bears, Vienna, prostitution.

This book starts in the made-up town of New Hampshire's Penacook in the beginning of the 1900s, where Mr. and Mrs. Winslow welcome young foundling the title character from St Cloud's home. We are a few decades ahead of the events of His Earlier Novel, yet the doctor remains identifiable: still using the drug, beloved by his caregivers, beginning every address with “Here in St Cloud’s …” But his appearance in the book is restricted to these early scenes.

The Winslows are concerned about raising Esther correctly: she’s Jewish, and “how might they help a young girl of Jewish descent discover her identity?” To address that, we move forward to Esther’s later life in the 1920s. She will be involved of the Jewish migration to the region, where she will join the Haganah, the pro-Zionist armed organisation whose “mission was to safeguard Jewish settlements from opposition” and which would eventually become the foundation of the Israel's military.

These are huge subjects to take on, but having presented them, Irving backs away. Because if it’s regrettable that the novel is not really about St Cloud’s and Dr Larch, it’s even more disappointing that it’s also not focused on the titular figure. For reasons that must relate to plot engineering, Esther becomes a surrogate mother for another of the family's daughters, and gives birth to a baby boy, James, in the early forties – and the lion's share of this story is his tale.

And now is where Irving’s fixations come roaring back, both common and distinct. Jimmy goes to – of course – Vienna; there’s mention of dodging the military conscription through self-harm (A Prayer for Owen Meany); a canine with a significant name (the dog's name, meet the earlier dog from The Hotel New Hampshire); as well as the sport, prostitutes, novelists and genitalia (Irving’s throughout).

The character is a duller persona than the female lead hinted to be, and the secondary players, such as students Claude and Jolanda, and Jimmy’s teacher the tutor, are underdeveloped as well. There are several nice scenes – Jimmy losing his virginity; a brawl where a couple of thugs get assaulted with a support and a bicycle pump – but they’re short-lived.

Irving has not once been a nuanced writer, but that is is not the difficulty. He has consistently restated his arguments, hinted at narrative turns and allowed them to gather in the reader’s thoughts before leading them to resolution in extended, surprising, funny sequences. For case, in Irving’s novels, anatomical features tend to disappear: remember the speech organ in Garp, the hand part in Owen Meany. Those missing pieces echo through the story. In Queen Esther, a major person is deprived of an limb – but we merely find out thirty pages before the conclusion.

Esther comes back late in the novel, but only with a last-minute feeling of concluding. We do not do find out the complete story of her experiences in Palestine and Israel. This novel is a letdown from a author who in the past gave such joy. That’s the negative aspect. The upside is that Cider House – I reread it together with this work – still stands up excellently, 40 years on. So choose that as an alternative: it’s twice as long as this book, but far as great.