Title: to cradle the world in his hands
Author: language_escapes (
k_e_p)
Pairing: Gen
Length: 7,927
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: None
Verse: Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century
Author's summary: He does not feel limited. A Tennyson origin story.
Reccer's comments:
I really did not know how much I needed this story until I read it. I only know this adaptation because it's spawned some really impressive fic, and this fic is definitely up there. It's just filled with so much science fictional world-building, all devoted to exploring a theme that science fiction very often elides: disability. Technology is not a magical fix; Tennyson is conflicted about whether his disability is something that needs to be fixed anyway. And everything about language, and culture, and who bears the burden of adapting, is just so true. So right, even as it's sometimes so wrong. It's a painful read, at times; but as I started with, it was a read I needed, desperately.
Excerpt:
Tennyson’s earliest memory is of his mama’s hands. He remembers them arcing and curving, creating shapes. He remembers thinking, that’s me when her hands twisted in a particular way. He remembers feeling warm, because his mama named him with her hands, and it was beautiful, and perfect, and him.
Author: language_escapes (
Pairing: Gen
Length: 7,927
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: None
Verse: Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century
Author's summary: He does not feel limited. A Tennyson origin story.
Reccer's comments:
I really did not know how much I needed this story until I read it. I only know this adaptation because it's spawned some really impressive fic, and this fic is definitely up there. It's just filled with so much science fictional world-building, all devoted to exploring a theme that science fiction very often elides: disability. Technology is not a magical fix; Tennyson is conflicted about whether his disability is something that needs to be fixed anyway. And everything about language, and culture, and who bears the burden of adapting, is just so true. So right, even as it's sometimes so wrong. It's a painful read, at times; but as I started with, it was a read I needed, desperately.
Excerpt:
Tennyson’s earliest memory is of his mama’s hands. He remembers them arcing and curving, creating shapes. He remembers thinking, that’s me when her hands twisted in a particular way. He remembers feeling warm, because his mama named him with her hands, and it was beautiful, and perfect, and him.
no subject
Date: 2016-08-01 12:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-08-02 04:35 am (UTC)