Better opening than wrap-up, which is probably typical in the "what-the-hell-is-going-on?" genre. For a hundred pages, events pile up without any clear sense of cause or correlation, and part of the fun of such books is not knowing what the patterns are. (It's a paranoiac's thrill: all the stuff going on in our lives might just very well be ordered in ways that make some other kind of sense....)
A fast read, and fun enough; not as good as Michael Marshall's stuff written under his full name (with the Smith attached at end), nor as smoothly disruptive and delightful as granddaddy Philip K. Dick's best stuff. It went from a 4-star to a 2-star read, so we'll call it even at 3.