🔗 Share this article

If a few authors enjoy an imperial period, during which they hit the pinnacle time after time, then American novelist John Irving’s extended through a series of several substantial, rewarding novels, from his late-seventies success Garp to the 1989 release A Prayer for Owen Meany. Those were expansive, funny, warm novels, connecting figures he describes as “outliers” to social issues from gender equality to termination.

Following Owen Meany, it’s been waning outcomes, except in page length. His last novel, the 2022 release The Last Chairlift, was nine hundred pages long of themes Irving had examined more effectively in prior novels (mutism, dwarfism, trans issues), with a two-hundred-page script in the middle to fill it out – as if padding were needed.

So we look at a latest Irving with reservation but still a tiny glimmer of optimism, which shines brighter when we find out that Queen Esther – a only four hundred thirty-two pages – “returns to the setting of His Cider House Rules”. That 1985 novel is among Irving’s top-tier books, taking place mostly 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 author who previously gave such pleasure

In His Cider House Novel, Irving explored abortion and identity with vibrancy, comedy and an all-encompassing empathy. And it was a important book because it moved past the themes that were turning into annoying tics in his works: grappling, wild bears, Austrian capital, sex work.

This book begins in the imaginary village of New Hampshire's Penacook in the beginning of the 1900s, where Mr. and Mrs. Winslow welcome 14-year-old orphan the protagonist from St Cloud's home. We are a several decades ahead of the action of The Cider House Rules, yet Wilbur Larch is still identifiable: still addicted to the drug, respected by his caregivers, starting every speech with “In this place...” But his appearance in this novel is confined to these opening scenes.

The couple worry about parenting Esther correctly: she’s of Jewish faith, and “how might they help a young Jewish girl find herself?” To address that, we move forward to Esther’s adulthood in the twenties era. She will be a member of the Jewish migration to Palestine, where she will become part of the Haganah, the Jewish nationalist armed group whose “purpose was to protect Jewish communities from hostile actions” and which would later form the basis of the Israel's military.

Those are huge themes to address, but having presented them, Irving backs away. Because if it’s frustrating that the novel is not actually about the orphanage and Wilbur Larch, it’s even more disheartening that it’s additionally not focused on Esther. For causes that must involve narrative construction, Esther becomes a substitute parent for another of the couple's children, and bears to a son, the boy, in World War II era – and the bulk of this story is the boy's tale.

And here is where Irving’s fixations return strongly, both regular and specific. Jimmy relocates to – where else? – Vienna; there’s mention of dodging the Vietnam draft through bodily injury (A Prayer for Owen Meany); a dog with a meaningful title (the dog's name, remember the canine from The Hotel New Hampshire); as well as grappling, sex workers, writers and penises (Irving’s passim).

Jimmy is a duller figure than the heroine promised to be, and the minor players, such as students Claude and Jolanda, and Jimmy’s teacher Eissler, are flat as well. There are some nice episodes – Jimmy losing his virginity; a confrontation where a couple of ruffians get battered with a walking aid and a tire pump – but they’re short-lived.

Irving has not ever been a subtle author, but that is is not the issue. He has always restated his ideas, telegraphed plot developments and let them to build up in the viewer's thoughts before leading them to fruition in extended, shocking, funny sequences. For example, in Irving’s novels, physical elements tend to be lost: remember the speech organ in Garp, the digit in Owen Meany. Those absences resonate through the narrative. In the book, a key figure is deprived of an upper extremity – but we just learn thirty pages later the conclusion.

The protagonist reappears in the final part in the story, but merely with a final impression of ending the story. We never discover the full story of her experiences in the Middle East. Queen Esther is a failure from a novelist who once gave such pleasure. That’s the negative aspect. The good news is that His Classic Novel – revisiting it together with this work – still remains beautifully, 40 years on. So choose the earlier work instead: it’s much longer as the new novel, but a dozen times as good.