This story, published in 1993, has many of the features that seem to be characteristic of Carey's novels:
* gothic family drama played out by eccentric, larger-than-life (yet oddly appealing) characters
* dark simmering family secrets ( nearly everyone is haunted by ghosts from the past)
* sporadic alcohol or rage-fueled acts of extreme violence
* at least one character (generally male) who is completely batshit crazy
* a wildly original plot, whose plausibility doesn't hold up under careful scrutiny, but which is made palatable by
* the author's natural gift for storytelling (excellent pacing and tight construction) and
* writing that is polished and highly readable
There are worse formulas, and so far I've not read anything by Carey that's been a complete dud. "The Tax Inspector" falls in the middle of the pack - an enjoyable read, but not his best, in my opinion. Aspects that I thought didn't work all that well included:
MINOR SPOILER ALERT (though if you haven't figured out by page 20 that this story is going to end with a bang, you're not paying attention)
# Things were just a little too gothic - the rampant dysfunction within the Catchprice family, ranging from the gelignite-toting grandma to the psychopathic 16-year old, Benny, (whose initial meltdown precipitates the havoc that unfolds as the story progresses), is just a little too over the top to carry much of an emotional charge
# Why does the deep dark family secret always have to be incest propagated across the generations?
# Practically the first thing we're told about Granny Catchprice is that she carries a stick of gelignite in her handbag at all times. Which means, by a simple application of Chekhov's law of the loaded gun, that we know how things will turn out. So where was the suspense?
# The whole Sarkis story arc seemed entirely tangential and added little to the overall development
# For that matter, the tax inspector character was dull, and the integration of her story (such as it was) with that of the crazy Catchprice clan was kind of clumsy
These criticisms are actually pretty minor. Because, as in his other books, Carey's gift for telling a good yarn, his ability to pull the reader into the eccentric milieu of his characters and make us care about those characters (even the weird ones) more than compensate for minor structural weaknesses. So that this was a very enjoyable read. While I don't think it qualifies for a fourth star, it does make me want to keep reading his stuff.
Have I mentioned that Peter Carey has a wicked sense of humor?