The book begins like a comedy, and it's very funny, but then it takes a turn. There's still a good bit of humor, but there are also those really, really bad things.
There's a 6-year-old genius who's about, oh, ten billion times smarter than Einstein and Stephen Hawking combined, and he can build things that just happen to be absolutely necessary to the story. There's a nice doggie. There are relentless villains that we don't get to know at all. There's a narrator with a deep, dark secret that really has nothing at all to do with anything, though a couple of sentences try to make us think it does. There's a motive that makes no sense at all, not a bit, when you consider the really, really bad things. (But then that's not the only thing that doesn't make sense.) There's an ending that's got to be one of the most rushed and anti-climactic that I've ever read.
Maybe instead of being a bad book, this is a brilliant satire that I'm to dim to get. Maybe everything will be made clear in a sequel. Or maybe it's just a bad book.