Review: 'Queen Esther' by John Irving

I often find myself drifting through the literary landscape without much awareness of the buzz surrounding upcoming releases, which means I occasionally miss out on noteworthy titles. This brings me to Queen Esther by John Irving, an intriguing sort of prequel/sequel to his 1985 The Cider House Rules. That novel was adapted into a film in 1999, a project that Irving scripted himself and for which he won an Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay. It’s one of my all-time favorite movies— rare is the case where the film surpasses the book, but in this instance, I think it genuinely does. Admittedly, I have a copy of the book tucked away somewhere on my shelf, gathering dust.

I wasn’t even aware of Queen Esther’s existence until it appeared as a Christmas gift, which took me by surprise. How had it flown under my radar? My usual sources—other book bloggers—seemed to have little to say about it. After a quick look at Goodreads, I found the reviews were decidedly mixed, with many verging on negative. This contradiction piqued my curiosity. What could elicit such a range of responses? I intended to read just a few pages that Christmas afternoon, but the story quickly drew me in, compelling me to devour much more than I had planned.

However, as I turned the pages in the ensuing days, my initial intrigue began to fade. After a staggering forty-year absence, Irving returns to the world of St. Cloud’s orphanage, where Dr. Wilbur Larch first encountered Esther, a Jewish girl whose life has been irreparably scarred by anti-Semitism.

Esther Nacht’s story begins in Vienna in 1905, where her fragmented family is met with tragedy—a father who dies on the ship to Portland, Maine, and a mother violently taken from her by the horror of anti-Semitic hate. Dr. Larch, ever the compassionate soul, realizes that finding a Jewish family to adopt Esther is nearly impossible; she may as well be a ghost, forever adrift in a world that has no place for her.

When Esther turns fourteen, she is on the brink of becoming a ward of the state. It is then that Dr. Larch encounters the Winslows, a benevolent New England family devoted to fostering orphans in need. Though they are not Jewish, they are passionate advocates against anti-Semitism. Esther's gratitude towards the Winslows is palpably immense; she carries that love, even when tracing her roots back to Vienna. The story culminates in 1981, set against the stark backdrop of Jerusalem, where Esther is now seventy-six, a seemingly eternal survivor in a world that has wrought so much pain upon her.

But I couldn't help but wonder—why Queen Esther? The narrative places heavy emphasis on Esther's son, Jimmy Winslow, revealing a pact she made with Hope Winslow, wherein she would bear a child for her foster sister (more like a daughter). It’s an unusual setup; Esther, abandoned as an infant at St. Cloud’s doorstep, becomes intertwined with the Winslows’ story. Yet, much is disjointed and labored.

While the concept had promise, my struggle with the text grew as I navigated Irving's erratic narrative choices. The pacing felt off, and the structure was all over the place. Even characters who had the potential to be compelling—like Jimmy—came across as lifeless and wooden. Their dialogue often felt stilted and contrived, leading to moments of cringeworthy reading that made my head pound. It left me questioning what Irving was trying to achieve with Queen Esther.

The novel felt unfocused, sometimes rushed, and bogged down by too many characters who meander without ever truly connecting. It’s a complex narrative burdened by its own ambition—a muddled tale that fails to find its footing. Ultimately, I couldn’t shake the disappointment. I truly wanted to love this book, but it fell flat, and, regrettably, I cannot recommend it to fellow readers. If you’re hoping for the same magic as The Cider House Rules, you might want to keep your expectations grounded. ╌★★✰✰✰

〜B.J. Burgess