It's nestled in the hills near Oregon's Wallowa National Forest, but it isn't part of Oregon. Its official philosophy is the Geo-Political Omni Doctrine, and its principal activities include gambling, polygamy, and paramilitary maneuvers. The only currency legal at its brand-new casino is the vikki, the bob, the glock, the mike, and the buddy. Yes, it's the Independent Republic of Bob, pop. 207, a proud nation Buddy Faverman is carving out of an Indian reservation he purchased. Now that Bob's open for business and other affairs of state, Buddy's father Max, whose shoe-manufacturing bucks financed this whimsy, has come for a visit, bringing along his old friend Adam McCleet, the Vietnam ex-cop sculptor whose checkered background scarcely prepares him for his impromptu role as Bob's sheriff. As if Bob weren't madness enough, the rash of homicide and robbery that catapults Adam into his latest folly also heralds the arrival of (1) Special Agent Richard Gosinia, FBI, who says he's only concerned about the lives of Bob's citizens, and (2) Adam's rapacious sister Margot the Malevolent, who's pretty clearly concerned to corral husband #6. Hanson (Splitting Heirs, 1997, etc.) is as inventive as Carl Hiassen, but less stylish and less logical and less capable of sustaining his gossamer flights of fancy--and therefore, finally, more tedious than funny.