Psychodelic - that's the word that best describes this book. Neil Gaiman is a wordmaster. Every time I read a book by him I'm amazed by his ability to put words on strings so neatly and magically. 
 This story is a childhood memory, but unlike any other childhood memory I've read, it's told from a kid's perspective in every possible way. Children tend to imagine things, especially those kids who like reading and fairytales. Adults they dislike become monsters and adults they do like seem to be holy-like or fairies or whatever else saintly magical and wise. When we grow up we don't really believe in such things, but we remember how real they were when we were little. And because of this it's so difficult to understand whether this story happened inside of the main character's head or was it real. I just remembered what Dumbledore said in Harry Potter - the fact that something's happening inside your head does not make it less real. I guess that's exactly the case with childhood stories and memories. 
 I would advise this book to any adult who stopped believing in magic. I think we should.