Here's an excerpt from the book to tease you:
I hate reading modern detective stories that relate everything that happens to the movies. Rarely does this crap ever mimic the atrocities that some call cinematic experiences; more like celluloid extortion. Vampires don’t look like models or teen heartthrobs, Frankenstein’s creation, who isn’t called Frankenstein, is not a brainless oaf but more articulate than most Ivy League graduates, and zombies don’t eat brains, they feed on the souls of the newly dead to delay their own decay. But damn it, once in a while Hollywood gets it right; werewolves killed by silver, check. And that damned Book of the dead, yeah it’s real, too.