John Irving's Queen Esther Analysis – A Letdown Follow-up to His Classic Work

If a few writers enjoy an imperial phase, during which they reach the pinnacle time after time, then American novelist John Irving’s extended through a run of four long, gratifying novels, from his 1978 success Garp to 1989’s A Prayer for Owen Meany. These were generous, witty, warm works, linking protagonists he describes as “outsiders” to cultural themes from feminism to reproductive rights.

After A Prayer for Owen Meany, it’s been declining returns, save in page length. His most recent work, 2022’s The Last Chairlift, was nine hundred pages of topics Irving had delved into more skillfully in previous novels (mutism, restricted growth, transgenderism), with a two-hundred-page film script in the center to pad it out – as if padding were necessary.

Thus we look at a recent Irving with reservation but still a tiny spark of expectation, which burns hotter when we find out that His Queen Esther Novel – a just 432 pages in length – “returns to the universe of The Cider House Rules”. That mid-eighties book is among Irving’s top-tier novels, taking place largely in an institution in the town of St Cloud’s, run by Dr Larch and his assistant Wells.

Queen Esther is a disappointment from a author who previously gave such pleasure

In Cider House, Irving discussed abortion and belonging with richness, comedy and an comprehensive empathy. And it was a important novel because it moved past the subjects that were becoming repetitive habits in his books: grappling, wild bears, the city of Vienna, the oldest profession.

The novel begins in the made-up village of New Hampshire's Penacook in the early 20th century, where the Winslow couple take in 14-year-old orphan the protagonist from the orphanage. We are a a number of decades ahead of the events of The Cider House Rules, yet Dr Larch remains identifiable: already using anesthetic, beloved by his staff, opening every talk with “At St Cloud's...” But his role in Queen Esther is confined to these initial parts.

The family fret about raising Esther properly: she’s of Jewish faith, and “how could they help a young girl of Jewish descent find herself?” To tackle that, we flash forward to Esther’s grown-up years in the twenties era. She will be involved of the Jewish emigration to Palestine, where she will enter Haganah, the Zionist armed organisation whose “mission was to safeguard Jewish towns from hostile actions” and which would later become the core of the Israeli Defense Forces.

Those are enormous themes to tackle, but having brought in them, Irving avoids them. Because if it’s disappointing that the novel is not really about the orphanage and Dr Larch, it’s even more disappointing that it’s additionally not focused on Esther. For motivations that must connect to plot engineering, Esther turns into a gestational carrier for one more of the Winslows’ children, and bears to a baby boy, James, in World War II era – and the majority of this story is his story.

And now is where Irving’s fixations reappear loudly, both typical and particular. Jimmy relocates to – naturally – the Austrian capital; there’s discussion of dodging the draft notice through bodily injury (His Earlier Book); a pet with a significant title (the dog's name, meet Sorrow from The Hotel New Hampshire); as well as grappling, sex workers, authors and male anatomy (Irving’s passim).

Jimmy is a less interesting character than Esther suggested to be, and the minor players, such as students the two students, and Jimmy’s teacher Annelies Eissler, are underdeveloped as well. There are several amusing set pieces – Jimmy his first sexual experience; a brawl where a handful of ruffians get beaten with a crutch and a bicycle pump – but they’re brief.

Irving has not ever been a delicate author, but that is is not the issue. He has repeatedly restated his points, foreshadowed narrative turns and allowed them to build up in the audience's mind before bringing them to completion in extended, surprising, amusing scenes. For example, in Irving’s novels, anatomical features tend to be lost: think of the tongue in The Garp Novel, the finger in Owen Meany. Those losses resonate through the story. In this novel, a key character suffers the loss of an arm – but we merely discover 30 pages before the finish.

Esther comes back in the final part in the story, but merely with a last-minute sense of ending the story. We do not do find out the complete account of her experiences in the region. Queen Esther is a disappointment from a novelist who in the past gave such joy. That’s the negative aspect. The upside is that The Cider House Rules – revisiting it alongside this novel – yet stands up beautifully, 40 years on. So pick up the earlier work in its place: it’s double the length as this book, but 12 times as enjoyable.

Matthew Haynes
Matthew Haynes

A certified mindfulness coach and writer passionate about helping others find inner peace through simple, effective practices.