The Inquisitor is a taut, muscled novel which reveals, with painful honesty, the search for male identity, native Indian identity, and American identity. It shows us ourselves, and the mirror is not flattering. It exposes the process of moral corruption in bureaucracies and individuals. It tears the veil off the American soul and exposes it in a harsh flurorescent glare, in the blue light of the TV screen. It is a atory of how we all, native Indians and other Americans, may be exiled from our deepest selves. We may well see our own darkest fears and fantasies in this novel.