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If some authors enjoy an imperial phase, where they hit the pinnacle time after time, then U.S. novelist John Irving’s lasted through a run of four fat, satisfying books, from his 1978 success Garp to the 1989 release Owen Meany. Those were generous, funny, big-hearted works, linking characters he calls “misfits” to cultural themes from feminism to abortion.

After Owen Meany, it’s been diminishing returns, save in page length. His most recent book, 2022’s The Last Chairlift, was 900 pages in length of themes Irving had delved into more skillfully in prior novels (inability to speak, short stature, gender identity), with a two-hundred-page film script in the middle to pad it out – as if extra material were needed.

Thus we look at a new Irving with care but still a tiny flame of optimism, which shines brighter when we discover that Queen Esther – a only 432 pages in length – “returns to the universe of His Cider House Rules”. That mid-eighties work is part of Irving’s finest works, taking place largely in an orphanage in St Cloud’s, Maine, operated by Dr Larch and his assistant Homer Wells.

The book is a failure from a writer who previously gave such delight

In The Cider House Rules, Irving wrote about abortion and acceptance with colour, comedy and an comprehensive understanding. And it was a significant novel because it moved past the subjects that were evolving into annoying tics in his books: wrestling, bears, the city of Vienna, the oldest profession.

The novel starts in the made-up village of the Penacook area in the early 20th century, where the Winslow couple welcome teenage orphan the title character from St Cloud’s. We are a few decades ahead of the storyline of His Earlier Novel, yet the doctor stays familiar: still addicted to ether, adored by his nurses, beginning every talk with “At St Cloud's...” But his role in Queen Esther is confined to these early parts.

The Winslows worry about bringing up Esther correctly: she’s Jewish, and “how might they help a young Jewish girl find herself?” To answer that, we jump ahead to Esther’s later life in the 1920s. She will be part of the Jewish exodus to the area, where she will become part of Haganah, the Zionist militant group whose “mission was to safeguard Jewish towns from opposition” and which would subsequently form the core of the Israel's military.

Those are massive themes to take on, but having introduced them, Irving avoids them. Because if it’s regrettable that Queen Esther is not really about St Cloud's and the doctor, it’s still more disappointing that it’s additionally not about the titular figure. For reasons that must involve story mechanics, Esther ends up as a substitute parent for one more of the Winslows’ children, and bears to a son, Jimmy, in 1941 – and the majority of this book is his narrative.

And here is where Irving’s fixations return strongly, both common and distinct. Jimmy moves to – of course – the Austrian capital; there’s mention of avoiding the military conscription through self-harm (Owen Meany); a dog with a meaningful name (the dog's name, remember the earlier dog from His Hotel Novel); as well as the sport, streetwalkers, authors and male anatomy (Irving’s throughout).

The character is a duller figure than Esther promised to be, and the supporting players, such as young people the pair, and Jimmy’s instructor Annelies Eissler, are underdeveloped too. There are a few nice scenes – Jimmy deflowering; a brawl where a handful of ruffians get battered with a walking aid and a bicycle pump – but they’re short-lived.

Irving has never been a nuanced novelist, but that is isn't the difficulty. He has always restated his points, hinted at narrative turns and enabled them to gather in the reader’s imagination before bringing them to fruition in lengthy, surprising, funny scenes. For example, in Irving’s books, physical elements tend to go missing: think of the oral part in The Garp Novel, the hand part in Owen Meany. Those missing pieces resonate through the story. In this novel, a key person loses an upper extremity – but we only find out thirty pages before the finish.

Esther returns toward the end in the story, but just with a last-minute sense of concluding. We not once learn the complete account of her time in the Middle East. This novel is a disappointment from a writer who previously gave such joy. That’s the bad news. The upside is that His Classic Novel – upon rereading together with this work – yet stands up beautifully, 40 years on. So choose that as an alternative: it’s much longer as this book, but far as great.