Review of "Ancilla" by Sera Maddox Drake

​Score: 80/100 (8.0 out of 10)

If you are a fan of the works of E.L. James (50 Shades of Gray, The Mister, etc.), you might find something you like in Ancilla by Sera Maddox Drake.

Ancilla is not a conventional steamy romance, erotic novel, or occult fiction book. It is really all three at once.

The novel follows an unnamed bisexual protagonist, usually referred to as “Ancilla” (Latin for a female servant or maid) whose life begins in privilege but also loneliness, rigidity, and deep emotional isolation. The early sections frame her childhood as intellectually rich but socially alienating, with a father who teaches her chivalry, discipline, and ideals that later become both foundation and burden.

From there, the book moves into her strict sedevacantist Catholic upbringing and drifts into New Age and esoteric experimentation, which--as you'd expect--clash with one another. It's like mixing oil and water.

Eventually she enters the orbit of “Magister,” a mentor, dominant, lover, and spiritual guide whose worldview is shaped by Thelema, Golden Dawn occultism, and ritual practice. Their relationship becomes the center of the novel: erotic, intellectual, devotional, risky, and transformative all at once. The book makes clear that this is a consensual BDSM relationship, but also an edge-heavy one that pushes into dangerous territory emotionally and physically. There is one particular scene that we'd consider "borderline." And we'll just say it: it's the piercing scene, particularly after Ancilla reveals having a phobia of it. This upset us a lot. We found this to be an example of Magister trampling on Ancilla's boundaries because it brought him pleasure. You could argue that it's exposure therapy, but we didn't experience it that way.

This might be one of those book reviews in which the less we say the better. Let's just get this out of the way: we didn't particular enjoy the majority of this book. That doesn't necessarily mean that you won't enjoy this book.
​It wasn't our cup of tea.

With that said, it was still something we got through. It was still something we found ourselves engaged with (occasionally). It got some strong reactions from us. We got angry, frustrated, annoyed. We cringed at times. We felt sickened at other times.

We personally found that this book explains itself and insists on itself too much. It comes across as incredibly pretentious and obnoxious. It begins and ends with these long sections explaining things like BDSM, Kabbalah, mythology, etc.--things which the story itself should be explaining. We shouldn't have to be told or lectured. These things should be self-evident (per the concept of the death of the author, in which readers are free to interpret the text for themselves). Other things bothered us, like the fact that this series calls itself the Magnum Opus, yet is really not much different from numerous other books about a person breaking free from a strict religious upbringing/background and finding liberation after meeting a special partner with strange proclivities. We read numerous books every year with this exact same story/character arc. We don't find it all that special in this regard.

With that said, at least this book provides some redemption and changes in power dynamics for both characters. Roles reverse and they try different things eventually.

​If you like these types of erotic stories, you can check it out on Amazon

 

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Ok, let's be honest and talk about what made this book get such strong negative reactions from us.

First of all, this book is framed with a lot of exposition and explaining, compounded with content warnings and more explanations. The beginning of this book is this 11-page introduction warning readers and explaining the book's themes before you've even read it. It kicks off with this anti-plagiarism/anti-AI warning about not using this text for AI training and/or analysis. We get it. We don't want AI analyzing and using our works either. However, that's assuming that your work is so great, so unique, so special, and so invaluable that it's worth someone (or an AI) learning from and copying. What, is AI or a pirate gonna learn about Kabbalah and Latin from this book?

You don't need two whole pages addressing this, it just takes a sentence-long statement. And that goes along with how this book seems padded. It's bloated and decorated with things like mythology and Kabbalah, but it really isn't that much different from other stories of women exploring BDSM and finding liberation and/or personal growth through it (i.e. 50 Shades of Gray, Secretary, Story of O).

The actual arc is one of the oldest and most cliche of all arcs: a character who grew up sheltered and constrained by a conservative religious upbringing finds herself liberated by risque and exotic behavior introduced to her by a romantic partner. Do you know how many times we encounter this exact same character arc? Probably like 20 times a year. It really isn't that unique or special. It really isn't.

Anyway, the anti-plagiarism/anti-AI warning is then followed by this really sarcastic, snarky trigger/content warning section. It's also overly long and seemingly unnecessary given the author basically tells the reader that there's disturbing content in here. The author says she doesn't know how to properly brace the reader for it, so she tells the triggered reader to just skip ahead when a section makes them uncomfortable. Ok... how helpful. So, why even include a warning like this if it's just going to be sassy and, quite frankly, dismissive? Author Ashley Greathouse tends to have sassy, snarky, and sarcastic content warnings before her books, but they're actually funny and entertaining. The warnings in this book just seem denigrating and unnecessary. They come across to us like someone saying: If you have a problem with it, too bad, LEAVE!

All of these warnings just come across as huge (perhaps unintentional) middle fingers to various types of readers. We got the impression from these warnings like: Read this book the way I want you to read it, don't ever copy it; interpret only what I want you to interpret from it, and be ok with all the content in it or leave. It creates a needlessly adversarial relationship with the reader who you're supposed to be getting on your side.

Like, why bother if your attempts at courtesy and consideration are just going to come across as discourteous and inconsiderate?

By the way, there's also a part of these warnings that says "the depictions of sexual activity in Ancilla are not exactly raunchy or smutty, nor are they the sole focus or even the primary focus of the book..."

Oh, that's such malarkey. More than half of this book is focused on sex or sex-adjacent activity. Maybe this line was meant as a joke?

Anyway, we've always found these warnings to be obnoxious and unnecessary. These have to be some of the most obnoxious warnings we've ever read, which is ironic because this is one of the most obnoxious books we've ever read, which is even more ironic because the author admits in the book: "I am probably one of the most obnoxious writers ever. I snap at anyone who offers criticism, even when I need and have solicited criticism. I am thin-skinned and crotchety. I am stubborn. I never take the bad news of 'this needs work' well, and I take 'this needs to be changed or cut out' even worse."

This book is so... pretentious. It's from a series that's literally called The Magnum Opus like it's the greatest thing ever. We're told it has foreshadowing, themes, and motifs. What, like every novel ever written? Does it have pages and words in it too?

Why is this book so full of itself?

Call it "a magnum opus" or "my magnum opus." Don't call it "THE Magnum Opus."

At the end of this book, you then get this really unnecessary afterword about Kabbalah, the Tree of Life, all the Sephira of the Tree of Life (for which the chapters are named after), Greek and Latin phrases and terms etc. Why not just buy a book about Kabbalah? There are hundreds out there. Or why not just read about it for free online? Wikipedia is a thing. Why would you learn about it from a fictional S&M book? Who signs up for that? Today I'm gonna buy this fictional sex diary to learn about Kabbalah.

The main problem we have with this is: your story and its characters should speak for themselves. You shouldn't have to explain a ton before the story even begins, then explain even more after the story ends.

There's a very important concept in literature known as the death of the author. It basically puts forward the idea that once a literary work is published, the interpretation, understanding, and experience of it should be in the reader's hands, not the author's. The author should not be telling you what to think about the book, how to interpret it, and how to feel about it. It should be all in the reader's hands.

You know what's strange about all of this? We actually find Kabbalah to be fascinating. And we love mythology and esoteric systems. The problem is that the way these are incorporated into this book seem more like decorations and window dressing to us. It's like the author thinking, I think this thing I like is really cool, so I'm going to find a way to sprinkle it in or shove it into the book. You can almost tell that parts of this book were changed or contrived to fit a certain Sephira of the Tree of Life (or another Kabbalic, mythological, or esoteric concept).

We think we get it. Independent from all the explaining, we think we understand what the author was going for. For example, there are aspects of different Sephira that are severe (like Geburah, which also represents restriction and discipline, which fit the book's BDSM elements) and others that represent love (like Chesed) and mercy (like Tiferet). So, in a consensual BDSM relationship, there's typically a combination of controlled severity mixed with love and mercy. So, that makes some sense.

We also get that the author was putting forward the idea that BDSM was ironically liberating for Ancilla. It allowed her to break out of her shell, face her fears, and... go back to college?! Ok. We'll play.

Seriously, there's a part of this book in which Ancilla is guilt-tripping herself over Magister after he gets all weird with her, and one of the ways she talks herself into going back to him is crediting him with her going back to college. It just comes across as Stockholm syndrome to us. Like, this poor girl's mind is so used to being manipulated and controlled that her manipulators don't even have to talk her into things, she talks herself into them now.

The problem is that we didn't find Magister to be remotely likable as a character. When you have a couple in a book you're supposed to be rooting for, it helps to actually like the two characters. That was painfully difficult. Magister has aspects of his character that are repulsive, fitting more of a villain than a love interest or protagonist. He's controlling and possessive, which he admits, made worse by his immense insecurity. He gets all weird and jealous when he learns that Ancilla is attracted to other people, specifically women. Like, most people don't find those to be appealing traits for a romantic partner. And that also somewhat hurts Ancilla's relatability as well. She comes across as a pushover at times. Many readers will find themselves thinking to themselves, What the hell was she thinking? or RUN AWAY NOW!

Ok, so there's one scene in particular that really made us turn on Magister and this book. There are aspects of BDSM that are sexy to many people: whips, chains, handcuffs, gags, blindfolds, devices like vibrators and plugs, etc. Usually, none of these are supposed to maim or leave lasting wounds or scarring. You're not actually supposed to get wounded, maimed, or injured. Well, the piercings scene really went against that. It's one thing to spank a consenting partner or even lightly whip them, but to actually pierce them with needles in some of their most painful and sensitive places, especially after they expressed having an intense fear or even phobia of it? In our opinion, that goes beyond the normal realm of consensual BDSM play and into actual depravity and sadism. It goes from "I'm gonna do this thing to you for our mutual fun, enjoyment, and sexual arousal" to "I'm gonna stab you with these sharp objects you're afraid of, thread them through you, and you're gonna learn to take it." That's... sick and disgusting.

And that goes with what we were saying about how parts of this book seem contrived to fit different Sephira. This piercing scene takes place in the Gevurah section. Would it have been in the book if the author didn't have to have a scene represent each Sephira of the Kabbalic Tree of Life?

And it turns us against both characters: Magister because he's a sicko and Ancilla because she lets it happen and doesn't run away.

Now, later in the book, there are some role reversals and changing power dynamics. We get that. We didn't find that awfully surprising, but those arcs are there.

We would probably like this book a lot more if it didn't seem to insist on itself with all the explaining and exposition--if it would just let the characters and story talk for themselves. We probably would've liked this book a lot more if it didn't seem like everything was being contrived to fit in boxes (or, in this case, spheres). We probably would've liked this book more if Magister were actually a likable character and Ancilla didn't seem like a blank-slate/drone/stand-in for the reader.

Anyway, maybe you'll enjoy this book if you're into these types of things.

Check it out on Amazon