I actually read the damn thing back in the day, and I was wise enough to see through the utter blllssttt. It reads like a bad Columbia serial, or a porn novel. Each chapter has its own little begining, middle & end, slam-bam, oh-mi-god it can't get any worse-- and (to quote Bozo on the old record/book things): "Turn the page before it's too late! Turn the page! Turn the page...! (Glub Glub)

Anson's production company made a lot of those little 3-7 minute movie promos in the late 60s and early 70s, sort of prehistoric EPK's, featurettes, if you will. I think he actually gets credit on a few, maybe "Island of Dr. Moreau" or something.

The book was specious, badly written nonsense and the Lutzes were clearly in on the scam from get-go as profit participants. I even checked with the local archdiocese to see if they really had sent a prist out for an exorcism. The Monsignior and I had a good laugh.

My guess-- there was something in their contract with Anson that meant they didn't have any particular rights to participate in a remake, and he's steamed. He should be, if they used his name, but it was always a scam-- a good scam. By saying up front, "You're never going to believe this, but this is a true story...!" you make every outlandish horror bit suddenly acceptable (c.f. Texas Chainsaw Massacre.