I didn't enjoy this book at all.
There's a scene where Our Hero, Kester, is trying to make himself useful to the fourth-generation supernatural agency he's become associated. Research! He can do research! (Apparently no one in this long-established agency has ever considered researching their subjects before.)
Kester, apparently, is very good at research. He notes he got top marks in his year on his dissertation; he studied at Cambridge. (I don't think we ever learn what he studied.) There's quite a lot more to a dissertation than research, but okay. I have no idea why someone getting top grades at Cambridge has been unable to convert this into any kind of employment, further education, or internship, but he is shy and not very driven, so okay.
Kester goes to the local library to research a painting found in a local attic. He trots to the local history section, and thinks happily about how much he loves books; the pages, the leather bindings, and so on. Then he sits down at a computer and starts doing web searches.
...okay, buddy, you don't need to be in the local history section of the library to do that, but maybe the ambience helps you out. Anyway, he does a lot of web searching, and finally finds mention of a book that may be relevant. Fantastic! Research comes through! But alas, the book is expensive and rare. Kester is plunged into despair.
Then he accidentally attracts the attention of an elderly library volunteer. She hobbles over, and despite his best attempts to shoo her off, manages to convey to him that she has read the book he is sighing wistfully over.
What a breakthrough! Does she own this book?
No. It's in the library. It is in the library they are sitting in. Our research genius did not, while looking for a book, think to check the catalogue of the library he was sitting in. HE COULD NOT FIND A BOOK IN A LIBRARY.
It turns out the book is in the Local Art section. Kester did not think to look in the local art section while researching a painting. Nor did he think to do so when researching a local painter. Despite this, he leaves the library thinking about how good he is at research.
Let me say again, Kester was praised by his tutors at one of the top universities in the country for the quality of his research skills, and he didn't even think to check if a book was in the library he was in.
(Further, as a graduate of a UK university, he would have been able to get easy and cheap access to most of the academic libraries in the country. He doesn't appear to know this. Cambridge really failed him.)
Later, he decides he needs to research further, and uses the office Internet rather than go back and look in the local art section. (To be fair, he does later go back to the library, where he spends two hours scanning the shelves and decides it's hopeless.)
This was the most ridiculous scene, but it's a pretty good example of how half-assed the whole thing felt. The characters are half-formed and unpleasant, the plot is nonsense, the setting is barely sketched in, other characters have to carry the Idiot Ball to make our hero seem smart and useful.
And also - the constant fat-shaming. If we're not mocking an employer's "elephantine" figure or a supernatural researcher's "voluminous" breasts, we've got Kester agonising over his "paunch", guilting himself over a Cornish pasty, struggling with the temptation of a chocolate bar, and generally feeling totally ashamed of himself while obsessing about food.
I did not find a single redeeming feature in this book, and I only finished it because I intended to leave a review and so felt obliged to read the whole thing.