Somewhere in my gut, this hovers more toward a 2.5, but I feel like giving the extra half-point.
Why? Well, reading this satire feels like watching a sketch, but more so. It's a short novel, an easy read, and it's written, well, overall it's written with what seems like obvious ease. It's just overloaded, even at so short a length.
In a sketch, or even a film, mediums I'm sure someone like Shearer is an old hand at, this book makes more sense. Writing is harder. Writing seems to make Shearer think this demands a number of throwaway quirks to add to the humor: Daria's schnitzels, Corey's dirty secrets, Dick's obvious hair troubles. These are things that could be shown, not told, much more easily visually... in text, many characters just become caricature... constantly describing Barbara as lesbian, Daria as pear shaped, Corey as greasy, would be less clunky if it was build in visually. Without the ability to act these descriptions, though, the characters come off hollow. Actual jokes, such as the many businesses started in the shells of now closed franchises, would be better as a quick visual than a long explanation. And possibly most importantly, the visual media would allow the viewer to know right away: none of these folks are anything but terrible.
This is, perhaps, part of the generous rounding-up on score: this is a tone-deaf novel because Shearer's characters are all tone deaf themselves. There is no particular hero here, and more often than not, the folks we get to meet are wildly problematic at best. There's also, however, no particularly obvious narrator chiding them. Shearer largely allows the characters to be terrible. But that also makes the entirety of the text one issue after another: white characters adopting not only native personas, but the most appropriative bits... there's no shortage of headdresses and fake ritual, which, because it's being described by an omniscient narrator, often comes across as Shearer thinking that Native American culture is exactly the shallow, inauthentic, cynical rendering the folks of Gammage pull off. And that's an unfair burden to shoulder the man with for pretty accurately portraying a bunch of northern rednecks, unscrupulous businessmen, and uninspired politicians, and the general contempt-or-ignorance that the question of "Indians" would bring about in those circles. Shearer has jokes fall like lead here, of course, and often due to the topic matter, but it feels only fair to note that it feels authentic... this is what this scenario would look like.
And so, in a Spinal Tap style mockumentary, we would see these people being terrible, uncomfortable people. We would see how comically pompous Dr. Gardner is, instead of being told how smart he thinks he is, instead of having him frequently be the only one who DOES seem smart (though no less awful). We would, presumably, see the sleaze on Tony Silotta and Joseph Catspaw. Catspaw's collection habit could be more subtly integrated. Earlene Hammond's NPR reporter/charity drive sensibility could be played against Lucy Striker's incessant filibustering. It's not frequent that I've felt a text would be improved in film, but this is one, because it would need to be so much tighter, because the jokes would land so much more obviously, so the wheat would more easily separate from the chaff. As it stands, the book feels polished but immediately dated, easily written but not particularly reviewed for content.