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If a few authors have an golden period, where they hit the pinnacle repeatedly, then U.S. novelist John Irving’s lasted through a run of several long, satisfying books, from his late-seventies success The World According to Garp to 1989’s A Prayer for Owen Meany. Such were generous, humorous, big-hearted works, connecting characters he refers to as “outsiders” to societal topics from feminism to abortion.

Following Owen Meany, it’s been declining results, aside from in word count. His last novel, the 2022 release The Last Chairlift, was nine hundred pages long of themes Irving had examined better in previous books (inability to speak, short stature, transgenderism), with a lengthy film script in the middle to extend it – as if extra material were necessary.

Therefore we approach a latest Irving with reservation but still a small spark of optimism, which glows hotter when we find out that Queen Esther – a mere 432 pages in length – “revisits the universe of The Cider House Novel”. That 1985 novel is part of Irving’s very best works, set mostly in an institution in Maine's St Cloud’s, run by Dr Wilbur Larch and his protege Homer Wells.

The book is a disappointment from a novelist who in the past gave such pleasure

In The Cider House Rules, Irving discussed termination and belonging with richness, comedy and an all-encompassing compassion. And it was a important book because it moved past the topics that were evolving into repetitive tics in his novels: the sport of wrestling, wild bears, Vienna, the oldest profession.

The novel opens in the fictional village of the Penacook area in the early 20th century, where Thomas and Constance Winslow take in 14-year-old ward Esther from St Cloud's home. We are a several years prior to the storyline of His Earlier Novel, yet Dr Larch is still identifiable: still addicted to anesthetic, respected by his nurses, opening every talk with “Here in St Cloud’s …” But his role in Queen Esther is limited to these initial scenes.

The family are concerned about bringing up Esther well: she’s Jewish, and “how could they help a adolescent Jewish female find herself?” To address that, we move forward to Esther’s later life in the twenties era. She will be involved of the Jewish exodus to the region, where she will become part of Haganah, the Zionist paramilitary force whose “goal was to defend Jewish settlements from hostile actions” and which would subsequently form the foundation of the Israeli Defense Forces.

Those are enormous subjects to address, but having introduced them, Irving backs away. Because if it’s disappointing that Queen Esther is not actually about St Cloud’s and the doctor, it’s all the more disappointing that it’s likewise not really concerning the main character. For reasons that must involve plot engineering, Esther turns into a substitute parent for another of the family's offspring, and gives birth to a baby boy, Jimmy, in 1941 – and the bulk of this novel is the boy's story.

And now is where Irving’s preoccupations reappear loudly, both regular and specific. Jimmy moves to – naturally – the city; there’s talk of avoiding the Vietnam draft through self-mutilation (His Earlier Book); a dog with a significant designation (Hard Rain, meet Sorrow from His Hotel Novel); as well as grappling, prostitutes, authors and penises (Irving’s throughout).

He is a more mundane character than the heroine hinted to be, and the supporting figures, such as young people Claude and Jolanda, and Jimmy’s instructor Eissler, are underdeveloped too. There are a few enjoyable episodes – Jimmy deflowering; a confrontation where a handful of thugs get beaten with a support and a bicycle pump – but they’re short-lived.

Irving has not ever been a nuanced novelist, but that is not the issue. He has consistently restated his ideas, telegraphed plot developments and let them to gather in the audience's thoughts before leading them to completion in extended, shocking, entertaining scenes. For example, in Irving’s novels, anatomical features tend to be lost: recall the speech organ in The Garp Novel, the finger in Owen Meany. Those losses reverberate through the plot. In Queen Esther, a major person suffers the loss of an limb – but we merely discover thirty pages later the finish.

The protagonist comes back toward the end in the story, but merely with a final sense of wrapping things up. We not once discover the entire narrative of her life in the region. The book is a letdown from a novelist who in the past gave such delight. That’s the downside. The positive note is that His Classic Novel – upon rereading in parallel to this book – yet remains excellently, 40 years on. So choose the earlier work as an alternative: it’s twice as long as Queen Esther, but a dozen times as great.