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If certain writers have an peak period, during which they reach the pinnacle consistently, then American novelist John Irving’s lasted through a run of several substantial, satisfying works, from his late-seventies hit Garp to 1989’s Owen Meany. These were rich, witty, big-hearted works, connecting protagonists he describes as “outliers” to cultural themes from women's rights to termination.

Since His Owen Meany Novel, it’s been declining returns, except in word count. His last book, the 2022 release The Chairlift Book, was nine hundred pages of themes Irving had delved into more effectively in earlier books (mutism, dwarfism, gender identity), with a two-hundred-page film script in the center to extend it – as if extra material were needed.

So we look at a new Irving with care but still a small spark of expectation, which glows hotter when we find out that Queen Esther – a just four hundred thirty-two pages – “returns to the setting of The Cider House Rules”. That mid-eighties book is one of Irving’s top-tier novels, set primarily in an orphanage in St Cloud’s, Maine, managed by Dr Wilbur Larch and his apprentice Homer.

Queen Esther is a disappointment from a writer who in the past gave such joy

In The Cider House Rules, Irving discussed pregnancy termination and identity with richness, wit and an total empathy. And it was a major work because it moved past the topics that were turning into annoying patterns in his novels: wrestling, bears, Vienna, the oldest profession.

Queen Esther starts in the imaginary town of Penacook, New Hampshire in the beginning of the 1900s, where Mr. and Mrs. Winslow take in 14-year-old ward the protagonist from St Cloud's home. We are a several generations ahead of the events of His Earlier Novel, yet Wilbur Larch is still identifiable: already dependent on ether, adored by his staff, beginning every address with “At St Cloud's...” But his presence in this novel is confined to these opening parts.

The Winslows are concerned about parenting Esther properly: she’s Jewish, and “how might they help a adolescent Jewish female find herself?” To tackle that, we jump ahead to Esther’s grown-up years in the Roaring Twenties. She will be involved of the Jewish exodus to the area, where she will join the paramilitary group, the Zionist militant group whose “purpose was to defend Jewish settlements from opposition” and which would later establish the core of the Israeli Defense Forces.

These are massive topics to take on, but having presented them, Irving backs away. Because if it’s disappointing that the novel is not really about St Cloud's and Dr Larch, it’s still more disheartening that it’s additionally not really concerning Esther. For reasons that must involve story mechanics, Esther turns into a substitute parent for another of the family's daughters, and bears to a male child, the boy, in World War II era – and the bulk of this novel is the boy's narrative.

And now is where Irving’s fixations reappear loudly, both common and specific. Jimmy goes to – of course – Vienna; there’s mention of evading the draft notice through bodily injury (Owen Meany); a dog with a meaningful title (Hard Rain, remember the earlier dog from Hotel New Hampshire); as well as grappling, prostitutes, authors and genitalia (Irving’s throughout).

The character is a duller figure than the female lead promised to be, and the minor players, such as young people Claude and Jolanda, and Jimmy’s tutor Annelies Eissler, are flat as well. There are a few nice scenes – Jimmy deflowering; a brawl where a few thugs get beaten with a walking aid and a air pump – but they’re brief.

Irving has not once been a nuanced writer, but that is isn't the problem. He has repeatedly repeated his ideas, hinted at narrative turns and let them to build up in the audience's thoughts before leading them to resolution in long, shocking, amusing moments. For instance, in Irving’s works, body parts tend to disappear: remember the speech organ in The Garp Novel, the hand part in Owen Meany. Those losses resonate through the narrative. In Queen Esther, a central person suffers the loss of an limb – but we merely find out thirty pages before the finish.

She comes back in the final part in the story, but only with a last-minute sense of concluding. We never do find out the complete narrative of her time in the region. Queen Esther is a disappointment from a writer who in the past gave such pleasure. That’s the downside. The positive note is that His Classic Novel – revisiting it together with this book – even now stands up wonderfully, 40 years on. So read it instead: it’s twice as long as the new novel, but far as good.