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If a few writers have an peak era, in which they reach the pinnacle consistently, then U.S. author John Irving’s extended through a run of several fat, gratifying works, from his late-seventies breakthrough Garp to 1989’s A Prayer for Owen Meany. Such were rich, funny, warm novels, connecting figures he describes as “outsiders” to societal topics from feminism to reproductive rights.

Since A Prayer for Owen Meany, it’s been waning outcomes, save in size. His most recent work, 2022’s His Last Chairlift Novel, was 900 pages in length of topics Irving had explored more skillfully in earlier works (inability to speak, short stature, gender identity), with a two-hundred-page script in the heart to fill it out – as if extra material were required.

Thus we come to a latest Irving with reservation but still a faint glimmer of optimism, which shines hotter when we learn that Queen Esther – a mere four hundred thirty-two pages long – “goes back to the world of His Cider House Rules”. That mid-eighties novel is among Irving’s finest works, located primarily in an orphanage in the town of St Cloud’s, managed by Wilbur Larch and his protege Wells.

Queen Esther is a letdown from a writer who previously gave such joy

In The Cider House Rules, Irving explored pregnancy termination and belonging with vibrancy, comedy and an all-encompassing empathy. And it was a major work because it left behind the topics that were turning into annoying tics in his works: wrestling, ursine creatures, the city of Vienna, sex work.

Queen Esther starts in the fictional village of the Penacook area in the twentieth century's dawn, where Thomas and Constance Winslow welcome young foundling the title character from St Cloud's home. We are a several generations prior to the events of Cider House, yet Dr Larch is still recognisable: already addicted to anesthetic, adored by his caregivers, beginning every speech with “In this place...” But his role in this novel is restricted to these opening sections.

The family are concerned about bringing up Esther correctly: she’s of Jewish faith, and “how could they help a adolescent Jewish female understand her place?” To address that, we flash forward to Esther’s adulthood in the Roaring Twenties. She will be involved of the Jewish migration to the region, where she will enter the paramilitary group, the Jewish nationalist armed force whose “mission was to defend Jewish settlements from hostile actions” and which would later become the basis of the IDF.

Those are massive subjects to address, but having presented them, Irving dodges out. Because if it’s disappointing that Queen Esther is not actually about St Cloud's and the doctor, it’s even more disheartening that it’s also not about Esther. For causes that must involve story mechanics, Esther turns into a gestational carrier for a different of the couple's daughters, and bears to a son, the boy, in 1941 – and the lion's share of this story is his tale.

And here is where Irving’s obsessions reappear loudly, both regular and specific. Jimmy goes to – where else? – Vienna; there’s discussion of evading the draft notice through bodily injury (A Prayer for Owen Meany); a pet with a meaningful designation (the dog's name, meet the earlier dog from Hotel New Hampshire); as well as wrestling, sex workers, writers and penises (Irving’s throughout).

The character is a less interesting figure than the heroine suggested to be, and the supporting characters, such as students Claude and Jolanda, and Jimmy’s teacher Annelies Eissler, are flat also. There are a few enjoyable episodes – Jimmy losing his virginity; a brawl where a few ruffians get beaten with a crutch and a bicycle pump – but they’re here and gone.

Irving has not once been a nuanced author, but that is isn't the issue. He has repeatedly repeated his points, foreshadowed narrative turns and enabled them to gather in the reader’s imagination before taking them to resolution in long, jarring, entertaining scenes. For instance, in Irving’s novels, anatomical features tend to go missing: recall the speech organ in Garp, the hand part in Owen Meany. Those missing pieces echo through the plot. In this novel, a central person suffers the loss of an upper extremity – but we merely learn 30 pages the finish.

She returns late in the story, but just with a last-minute impression of ending the story. We never discover the full account of her life in the Middle East. Queen Esther is a disappointment from a writer who in the past gave such joy. That’s the negative aspect. The upside is that Cider House – I reread it together with this book – yet remains excellently, after forty years. So pick up that as an alternative: it’s much longer as Queen Esther, but 12 times as enjoyable.