Released as part of Black Library’s 2019 Novella Series 2, Graham McNeill’s Warhammer Horror novella The Colonel’s Monograph is a quiet, creepingly sinister portrayal of the slow road to corruption. Grieving in the wake of her husband’s death, retired archivist Teresina Sullo takes on a private commission to catalogue the library of a celebrated war hero, the late Colonel Elena Grayloc. As her work progresses Sullo fixates on finding one particular book, which she hopes might shed light on the mysterious circumstances of the colonel’s return to Grayloc Manor and subsequent death. The deeper she digs, however, the more it becomes clear that something sinister lurks behind the colonel’s heroic facade, and that Sullo’s obsession with finding answers is leading her down a dark path from which she might not return.
Things start off quite slowly as Sullo eases into her tale, the early parts of which are deceptively calm and gentle, with just hints of a building sense of atmosphere. Once she reaches Grayloc Manor and meets its current inhabitants – permanently distracted Garrett Grayloc, son of the late colonel, and lone servitor Kyrano – the story settles into its rhythm, as Sullo’s archival efforts lead her to explore the manor and its surroundings. Her mounting obsession with her task gradually changes focus from archival to investigation, and the deeper she digs the darker things get. Grayloc Manor shifts from a neglected but ordinary mansion to a cold and eerie site of painful memories, while regular, everyday activities – a walk through the countryside, visits to a cafe, interactions with the servitor Kyrano – are clouded by subtle shifts in tone or overshadowed by ominous sightings.
McNeill frames the story as Sullo’s written account of everything that happened after she accepted the commission, so it’s essentially her recollection of her own descent into madness (with an occasional snippet of third party commentary in the footnotes). Whether her memories are reliable…well, that’s up to the reader to decide. In her writing she comes across as prim and efficient yet also honest, open and quietly determined, and despite the overall tone of the story it’s strangely comforting to see the simple pleasure she takes in her meticulous work – it feels as though this is a story written by a book lover, for book lovers. She’s a quiet, rather mournful character and that translates into the story too – there’s nothing outright scary here, rather a gentle melancholy and a creeping sense of slowly building unease that develops into something surprisingly grim over time.
With an archivist as the protagonist and a quiet coastal town as the setting, it’s no real surprise that this feels far removed from the usual military stylings of 40k. The Imperium’s eternal war is present in the background, but it’s a distant and barely-understood menace rather than a looming, tangible danger. The central mystery, once unveiled, is deeply 40k-appropriate and powerful on a personal level, but it doesn’t require the reader to be familiar with the setting or any of its usual core archetypes. In fact, this would make an effective introduction to the darkness at the core of 40k, and is a great illustration of how Warhammer Horror stories can broaden the appeal of the IP. It’s an excellent example of a dark ‘domestic 40k’ story, but more than that it’s just a really good quiet, atmospheric psychological horror story.
See also: all my other Warhammer Horror reviews and author interviews.
