The grammar is atrocious. The plot is absurd. The chronology is jumpy and confusing. The logic has holes big enough to steer an aircraft carrier through. By all rights, we should have flung Christopher Moore’s latest novel across the room and written a scathing review.

So why did we stay up way past our bedtime to read just one more chapter—until we were a dozen more chapters in? Why did we sneak in pages while in line at the cafe and while our boss wasn’t looking at work? Why did we cancel plans and feign illness so that we could stay home to read?

Because Christopher Moore belongs in the same category as novelty cocktails, McDonald’s fries, and J.J. Abrams shows: highly addictive fun as long as we don’t think too hard about the details.

A Dirty Job is typical Moore: Think Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride on acid. As the story opens, we meet Charlie Asher, your standard neurotic urban man, a combination of Woody Allen quirks and New Age sensitivity. He has an average, unremarkable, pleasant life, managing a thrift store and getting ready for the birth of his first child. Then, Death shows up. Or, more accurately, Santa’s Helper of Death, as Charlie puts it. From there, his life takes a dark and absurd turn, leading him into a world of flying disembodied harpies, brooding death gods, overly affectionate hellhounds, and mischievous costumed squirrels.

That last sentence is a good barometer for whether you would enjoy A Dirty Job. If you smirked or grinned or thought about Googling “costumed squirrels,” you’ll likely enjoy Moore’s twisted humor and highly creative storytelling. If, however, you rolled your eyes, furrowed your brow, or put your nose into the air, you should probably take a pass on this one. Your time would be better spent digging that stick out of your backside.

Moore is definitely not for the easily offended. He doesn’t just cross the line of taste; he takes a broad leap to the other side. If he isn’t describing the anatomy of women in the most juvenile of terms (or referring to them as “f--- puppets”), he’s mocking religious sensitivities or imagining sexual activities involving Teletubbies.

Yet despite his juvenile humor and lack of political correctness, Moore remains rather inoffensive. His wink-and-a-nudge jokes, equal-opportunity skewering, and beyond-absurd plots take the edge off the darkness. Much like the self-deprecating and hapless Charlie Asher, we realize that we can’t take the story or ourselves too seriously. We’re on a long, strange trip, so we might as well have some fun.

Although the mechanics of Moore’s writing leave a lot to be desired (see above re: grammar, transitions, etc.), A Dirty Job displays Moore’s trademark smart, snappy dialogue; a quirky, well-developed cast of characters; and a strong, quick pace that never lags. Moore may not be the most skilled writer, but he’s an outstanding storyteller and a keen observer of the human condition (if we were to take Moore seriously, we could pull from such themes as mortality, identity, and theories of the soul). Most of all, he’s just damn funny. In all senses of the word.

Sit back, relax, and enjoy the wild ride. Just don’t forget to feed your puppy (oops!).

Christopher Moore will be appearing at BookPeople on Sunday, April 2, at 3 p.m.