Having recently finished reading Maurice, I immediately turned to AO3 to
scavenge for fic that would give me some shade of that high. I return
bearing two recs, both somehow crossovers, and I love that.
The Measure of Love by
fengirl88
T, 2.2k, The Great Gatsby/Maurice crossover, Nick Carraway and Clive Durham
An Englishman and an American meet in a New York diner.
This was a beautifully-written crossover of two great books. Having
recently read/reread both of them, I was delighted to find it. The author
treats both Nick and Clive with subtlety: their conversation conveys
multiple things at once, and we get to see from Clive’s POV how he picks up
on the hints and implications of the offer for more. I love the choice to
parallel these characters as men who have survived a great shock—it’s
unrequited love, yes, but it’s also a specific tragedy and unexpected
change in life direction. Nick is that man in its immediate aftermath,
still physically shaking from it, and Clive is the veteran recognizing the
ache of an old wound which still plagues him years on. It’s heartbreaking
for both characters, especially the ending’s choice to dwell on
what-could-be (but won’t).
Divagations of a Prig, Or: the Risley Reshuffle by HotUtilitarian
E, 8.9k, Maurice (stealth David Blaize crossover), Clive Durham/Maurice Hall
Risley and Clive compete for Maurice's affections. It changes a few
things.
This is gorgeous, just a wonderful pastiche of the Edwardian novel, wherein
one can keenly feel the author’s research and experience with the style.
But while the prose will catch your eye to start, the characterization is
what will keep it—Clive Durham gets the consideration that E. M. Forster
sets the foundation for, but didn’t love him quite enough to follow through
on. Well, I love Clive, and this author does too.
Clive’s repression is woven into his character through his intellectualism
and snobbery so tightly that he jumps off the page, a fully-realized
person. The sex is incredibly hot—both the sex he has with himself and what
he shares with Maurice—but so are his reflections on life and self,
especially his references to the Phaedrus. And, happily, sex doesn’t
change the essential core of Clive; the bittersweet ending continues the
romantic push and pull between him and Maurice. I wouldn’t want their
differences to be brushed aside in service of a tidy romance, and this
gracefully avoids that outcome.