Like 3.5, really. This was pretty funny, and one of the first books I've read set during 2020/The Pandemic that tells a story that isn't about the pandemic. And it's wonderful. Most of us just kept on living life and not freaking out and being fairly peeved at what we all knew were pointless acts of safety theatre. Anyway!

The novel itself is three-quarters novel, one-quarter screenplay about Germans capturing FDR while he vacations in South Carolina during World War II. It is, in fact, as dumb as it sounds. Dumber, actually. And I skipped a ton of it. The rest is about the screenplay's author, a Connecticut Yankee of all things, living in semi-rural SC, pandemic-binging, and apparently slowly going nuts. But in the best, mildest, funniest possible way. I wanted to like it more, but by the time the screenplay had taken over, then ending was unsatisfying and oh well. It's Christopher Buckley. Good enough.