Disclaimer - I received a free copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.
This is a fairly difficult book to review. There is a lot to like about the Measurements of Decay. It is a deeply philosophical work with a very interesting premise, but the story too often gets bogged down and the second half of the book becomes a bit a chore, even as you’re desperately wanting to see how it all ends; and while the antagonist is a truly despicable piece of work, most of the other characters are pretty unengaging. Then there is the language. But more on that later.
The Measurements of Decay primarily follows three main characters and the events unfold across multiple time periods. Tikan lives in a far future in which humans have colonised space. Tikan is an anomaly in his society. Everyone in this future has a brain implant called a procrustus which enables them to have virtual, or illusory, experiences. Tikan does not have a procrustus and, as far as we know, he is the only person in the future who doesn’t. The second character is an unnamed philosopher from our own time. He is convinced that he destined to write a philosophical treatise which will save humanity from itself. He is arrogant, conceited and completely self-obsessed, which makes him particularly unsuited for the role of saviour. The third character is Sielle, a young woman with the ability to ‘leap’ through time and space.
Their respective stories proceed independently through the first half of the book. We see Sielle through various time periods beginning in ancient Greece. The philosopher talks a lot about the brilliant work he is about to undertake while struggling to actually write anything down, all the while expecting everyone around him to service his obsession. Tikan, meanwhile, is travelling through space aboard a cruise liner, the Equuleus, which comes under attack by a mysterious enemy. Everyone on board is killed except for Tikan and two of his friends, Naim and Kira, all members of the crew, and a passenger by the name of Onasus. The four survivors set out on a quest to try and retrieve humanity from the dream-like state that it, as a whole, has entered into through the use of the procrustus.
The stories of the three main characters continue along their respective, separate courses through the first half of the book before they really come together and the relationship between the three starts to fall into place about half way through. Unfortunately, while the three separate storylines through the first half of the book all hold your interest, things come to a bit of a grinding halt through the second half. Almost every chapter in the book exists in order to advance some sort of philosophical point, but at least through the first half of the book the philosophising didn’t stop the progress of the actual plot. For much of the second half, it did.
In addition to the slowing of the plot, I actually found the characters of Tikan and Sielle pretty unlikable. Or perhaps unremarkable is a better description even though they are remarkable people in the context of the plot. I didn’t develop any connection or empathy towards them (which may be ironic considering that human empathy is one of the main themes of the story). Given that, along with Onasus, they are the only characters in the future timeline that are fully in control of their own thoughts, they seem to be very quick to abandon their friends. Tikan leaves Naim and Kira with seemingly very little prompting, and Sielle later leaves Tikan to his fate. I may be being a little harsh on them, people are not perfect after all, and maybe the author was trying to make a point that was lost on me, but I found few redeeming features in either character that made me actually care about them.
The unnamed philosopher I actually found to be the most engaging character, simply because he is so repulsive. He too has few redeeming features, but at least he is not meant to. He is an easy character to hate. There is an interesting contradiction in the character in that he believes that a lack of individual empathy is one of humanity’s greatest problems, yet he himself shows no empathy for anyone else.
Empathy is just one of themes examined in the Measurements of Decay. The book is thematically heavy and it would certainly help if you’re pretty well versed in western philosophy and Greek mythology, but it’s not essential. Even if you don’t know where terms like ‘procrustus’ and ‘metempsy’ are derived from, you can still follow the thematic aspects of the book. You certainly have to concentrate and think about what you’re reading, but that is not a bad thing. I appreciate an author that is not afraid to tackle big themes and present big ideas, and for that K K Edin should be commended. For me, the final result was a little uneven, but the ambition behind this book is pretty big and not easy to pull off.
Which finally brings me to Edin’s use of language. This seems to be one of the big discussion points about this book, and for good reason. Almost every sentence contains some dense, abstruse simile or alliteration. At times the prose is quite evocative, but most of the time it’s kind of distracting and sometimes borders on ridiculous. For example;
“The two stared at each other without words for a short while, the older man’s head looking like some outland chimera’s hideous egg heated by brimstone and doused in ceremonial paint shortly before hatching.”
I don’t know what a chimera’s egg looks like (I’m not sure that anyone does), let alone an outland chimera, whether it’s been heated by brimstone or not, so I’m not really sure what the purpose of this passage is. And it is not unique. Additionally some of the dialogue between characters is equally ridiculous which led me to recall the infamous urban legend about Harrison Ford’s statement to George Lucas when they were making the first Star Wars film; “You may be able to write this shit George, but you sure as hell can’t say it.”
But, and this is a big but, about a third to half way through the book I began to think that maybe there was a specific reason why the author was using this kind of language; maybe there’s something else going on here; maybe…. Well, let’s just say that what I thought might be going on turned out to be correct, and by the time I’d finished the book, the author’s use of language was put into perspective. I don’t want to say too much else (I may have already said too much) but if you have started this book and you are enjoying the story, or the philosophical aspects, but the language is putting you off, my recommendation is to persist. It is worthwhile.
Ultimately, I did enjoy this book. Yes, it has its flaws but, as I mentioned before, a book with this much ambition is an extremely difficult thing to pull off. I wouldn’t exactly call it a classic, but it is a worthwhile read.