What if you were able to learn how long you will live and when you will die to within a few days accuracy? Would you want to know? What if that were true for everyone around you? How would that change you and the world if you gained that knowledge?
One morning in March everyone in the world, every adult older than 22, received a small brown box engraved with his name. Where the boxes came from and how they got there is unknown. Each was inscribed with the message The measure of your life lies within. Inside was an indestructible silvery-white string of a length corresponding to the length of that person's life. Thus does Nikki Erlick set the fascinating, creative, thought-provoking stage for The Measure ©2022.
The story continues on from this auspicious beginning, told through the lives of a cast of characters — Nina and Maura, gay partners; Amie, Nina's younger sister; Ben, an architect; Hank a doctor; Jack and Javier, military best friends; Anthony, an aspiring politician — each with a string length unique to them. Chapter titles were each a main character's name. The novel explores the implication of this advance knowledge premise from all angles, at least from all the angles I could think of to query. There were personal emotional responses of fear, anger, desperation, elation, despair, acceptance, as well as more global implications to financial, economic, medical, employability, and insurability considerations. Would string length now be added to race, gender, sexual preference, or religion prejudices? The author's comfortable writing style urged me to turn page after page and continue to explore the possibilities.
The novel was very thorough and appealed to the my logical tendencies as I mulled over the possible consequences of having such life/death knowledge. Yet the well-developed characters with their heartwarming, inspirational, but sometimes also dastardly interactions, brought tears to my eyes at several points and raised my blood pressure with rage at others. Initially, I struggled a bit with wondering where all the boxes came from and the mechanism for them so precisely, ubiquitously appearing. But I suspended disbelief and emerged myself in the story. After all, not knowing the logistics of Santa Claus does not preclude enjoying Christmas. I whole heartedly give The Measure 5 stars.
Would I want to know when I'm going to die? No. Hard no. As Type A and as much of a planner I am in all the other areas of my life, I pray that my death (and those of whom I love the most) is not planned. It really sounds like you enjoyed this book, which is great, though. It doesn't sound like it's as depressing as its premise.
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