The Measure: A Novel
INSTANT NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER - The Read With Jenna Today Show Book Club Pick!
"A story of love and hope as interweaving characters display: how all moments, big and small, can measure a life. If you want joy, love, romance, and hope--read with us." --Jenna Bush Hager
A luminous, spirit-lifting blockbuster that asks: would you choose to find out the length of your life?
Eight ordinary people. One extraordinary choice.
It seems like any other day. You wake up, pour a cup of coffee, and head out.
But today, when you open your front door, waiting for you is a small wooden box. This box holds your fate inside: the answer to the exact number of years you will live.
From suburban doorsteps to desert tents, every person on every continent receives the same box. In an instant, the world is thrust into a collective frenzy. Where did these boxes come from? What do they mean? Is there truth to what they promise?
As society comes together and pulls apart, everyone faces the same shocking choice: Do they wish to know how long they'll live? And, if so, what will they do with that knowledge?
The Measure charts the dawn of this new world through an unforgettable cast of characters whose decisions and fates interweave with one another: best friends whose dreams are forever entwined, pen pals finding refuge in the unknown, a couple who thought they didn't have to rush, a doctor who cannot save himself, and a politician whose box becomes the powder keg that ultimately changes everything.
Enchanting and deeply uplifting, The Measure is a sweeping, ambitious, and invigorating story about family, friendship, hope, and destiny that encourages us to live life to the fullest.
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Readers say *The Measure* by Nikki Erlick offers a unique, emotionally powerful story blending thought-provoking sci-fi with realistic societal reacti...
I just finished The Measure and I need people to read this book.
Seriously.
The premise is that one day, every adult in the world gets a box with a string inside, and the length of that string tells you how long you’re going to live.
Would you open yours?
I wouldn’t.
And after finishing this book, I know that answer with even more certainty.
Because pretty quickly, this becomes so much less about the strings themselves and so much more about what humans do with the information.
And, shockingly, we do not handle it well. 😂
People get labeled. Short-stringers and long-stringers. People become afraid of each other. They’re treated differently because of something completely outside of their control. Relationships change. Careers change. Insurance changes. Politics gets involved. Suddenly people are deciding what someone should or shouldn’t be allowed to do based on which group they belong to.
Sound familiar?
There were SO many moments where I thought, okay…this is fictional, but is it REALLY?
Especially considering the political and social climate we’re living in right now.
I thought I was reading a book about knowing when you’re going to die. Instead, I found myself thinking about discrimination, fear, politics, grief, love, control and how quickly humans can take one piece of information about another person and make it the ONLY thing they see about them.
But more than anything, I kept thinking about choice.
If you knew how much time you had, would you actually live differently?
Would you make choices because they’re what you genuinely want, or because you’re afraid?
Would you love someone knowing you’re going to lose them?
Would you choose something beautiful knowing it couldn’t last forever?
And how much of our lives do we already spend preparing for things that haven’t happened yet instead of actually living the life that’s happening right now?
Ben and Amie got me the most. I won’t tell you why because I refuse to ruin that story for anyone, but I cried. Their story made me think so much about what it means to choose love without having any guarantee that loving someone won’t eventually hurt.
And the ENDING.
Nope. Not spoiling it.
Just…the ending.
I finished the book and sat there thinking about how differently I understood choices that had been made hundreds of pages earlier.
And I think that’s why I know I wouldn’t open my box.
I don’t want the length of my life determining how I live it.
I don’t want to make choices based on a countdown.
I want to choose people because I love them. Do things because they matter to me. Take chances knowing they might not work. Love people knowing I could lose them.
Because none of us gets a guarantee anyway.
Knowing how much time you have isn’t the same thing as knowing what that time is worth.
And THAT is what this book got me thinking about.
Read it.
Then come talk to me because I absolutely need to know whether you’re opening that damn box. 😂
I DNF'd this at barely 20%. This was our book club pick for the month of June, and I couldn't force myself to finish it.
As usual, I feel my opinion carries no merit because I couldn't read this to completion and give the storyline/author a fair and fighting chance. Yet I'm going to spew my thoughts here anyway, because that is the way it goes.
In short: this is everything, everywhere, except the kitchen sink. For a debut novel, this was a major letdown from what started as an interesting and promising premise.
The multiple POVs were confusing to follow, and the cast of characters was ALL-inclusive and two-dimensional, surprisingly enough. Now, given that I only made it through about 12 chapters, I can't speak for the remainder of the book, but the chapters were short, and the introductions made thus far didn't make waves with me. To be frank, in the time I did spend with this read, I didn't care about anyone. Plus, the third-person narrative felt odd. I had to look it up to verify, because I never read a third-person like this, and I wasn't sure why I was struggling so bad to connect the dots and enjoy the dual POVs: it's third-person omniscient. So, in short, the 'narrator' (how the reader is reading it) is 'all-knowing' and 'God-like', so we "know" each character's thoughts and get this sort of "big picture" view of the storyline. I much prefer the classic third-person (limited) view, as it feels more seamless and immersive in the reading experience.
The author did a stand-up job catering to every need and representation of everyone, everywhere, all at once. We have a multiracial lesbian couple, a brave, surrogate sister to her brother and his husband, a corrupt white politician and his insufferable wife, two military men, with one being Latino, and some stragglers here and there that fall somewhere between everything else, or a mix of. The representation here is not the issue, let me be clear. This world is a melting pot of diverse individuals. But, I am far from the target audience with this, and the inclusion of "everyone and everything all at once” casts a wide net with no depth, leaving impressions feeling superficial and politically correct...as if they were there simply to say they were, and satiate the demands of, seemingly, the public.
I don't like reading books set in modern-day time periods that take place where I am currently. Circa 1900-2018 is my sweet spot for all non-fiction dramas, if not older, and any new-age debuts are typically high fantasy or some other imaginary planet with no concept or conjecture about social media, Covid year, politics, or politicians of any registration, etc. I read to escape reality, even for an evening before bed, and I find myself bogged down and depressed by books like these, which are meant to be philosophically realistic and thought-provoking.
Now, we just read The Midnight Library, which poses a similar 'message' about choice and loving the life you live, despite the circumstances known in the past, present, or future. And I wasn't bothered by the more modernized setting. The Measure, however, immediately feels propagandistic and biased with its approach. Every sentence is over-explained, the dialogue is choppy, and nothing feels fleshed out. The author's execution reminds me (PTSD) of Fourth Wing: a promising idea cut short by unpleasantries and too much nonsense.
I think my displeasure with reading this, and lack thereof, boils down to the fact that I just wasn't set up to appreciate this book or its contents from the jump. As soon as we start depending on characters' sexual orientations to sell an emotional attachment, relying on these minor (because let's be real, they are minor in a good character portrayal) details to propel a plotline, pushing agendas oddly indicative of the author's biases, even in the most seemingly discreet ways, and mentioning faith, God's character or divinity, or religion, in a questionable way or manner that makes these deeply personal things, dare I say, a mockery device or reason for readers to dislike a character..then you've already lost me.
Personal preferences aside, this was a hard one to get into. We're introduced to a ton of characters, and the timeline is all over the place. There's little development made in the first 20% (IMO), and the propaganda and politics are a driving force behind what's alluded to be happening in June, which makes for a high-anxiety experience (IMO).
Take that information for what you will, reader. Sure, this book poses good questions for what realities would look like for you and me should something like this happen, and it gives you some perspective on how you view your life and others should circumstances be laid bare on your doorstep on the dawn of being 22. But these questions, and their answers, can be had just as easily without needing to spend time and money on a couple hundred pages of too much and not enough at all.
As usual, I feel my opinion carries no merit because I couldn't read this to completion and give the storyline/author a fair and fighting chance. Yet I'm going to spew my thoughts here anyway, because that is the way it goes.
In short: this is everything, everywhere, except the kitchen sink. For a debut novel, this was a major letdown from what started as an interesting and promising premise.
The multiple POVs were confusing to follow, and the cast of characters was ALL-inclusive and two-dimensional, surprisingly enough. Now, given that I only made it through about 12 chapters, I can't speak for the remainder of the book, but the chapters were short, and the introductions made thus far didn't make waves with me. To be frank, in the time I did spend with this read, I didn't care about anyone. Plus, the third-person narrative felt odd. I had to look it up to verify, because I never read a third-person like this, and I wasn't sure why I was struggling so bad to connect the dots and enjoy the dual POVs: it's third-person omniscient. So, in short, the 'narrator' (how the reader is reading it) is 'all-knowing' and 'God-like', so we "know" each character's thoughts and get this sort of "big picture" view of the storyline. I much prefer the classic third-person (limited) view, as it feels more seamless and immersive in the reading experience.
The author did a stand-up job catering to every need and representation of everyone, everywhere, all at once. We have a multiracial lesbian couple, a brave, surrogate sister to her brother and his husband, a corrupt white politician and his insufferable wife, two military men, with one being Latino, and some stragglers here and there that fall somewhere between everything else, or a mix of. The representation here is not the issue, let me be clear. This world is a melting pot of diverse individuals. But, I am far from the target audience with this, and the inclusion of "everyone and everything all at once” casts a wide net with no depth, leaving impressions feeling superficial and politically correct...as if they were there simply to say they were, and satiate the demands of, seemingly, the public.
I don't like reading books set in modern-day time periods that take place where I am currently. Circa 1900-2018 is my sweet spot for all non-fiction dramas, if not older, and any new-age debuts are typically high fantasy or some other imaginary planet with no concept or conjecture about social media, Covid year, politics, or politicians of any registration, etc. I read to escape reality, even for an evening before bed, and I find myself bogged down and depressed by books like these, which are meant to be philosophically realistic and thought-provoking.
Now, we just read The Midnight Library, which poses a similar 'message' about choice and loving the life you live, despite the circumstances known in the past, present, or future. And I wasn't bothered by the more modernized setting. The Measure, however, immediately feels propagandistic and biased with its approach. Every sentence is over-explained, the dialogue is choppy, and nothing feels fleshed out. The author's execution reminds me (PTSD) of Fourth Wing: a promising idea cut short by unpleasantries and too much nonsense.
I think my displeasure with reading this, and lack thereof, boils down to the fact that I just wasn't set up to appreciate this book or its contents from the jump. As soon as we start depending on characters' sexual orientations to sell an emotional attachment, relying on these minor (because let's be real, they are minor in a good character portrayal) details to propel a plotline, pushing agendas oddly indicative of the author's biases, even in the most seemingly discreet ways, and mentioning faith, God's character or divinity, or religion, in a questionable way or manner that makes these deeply personal things, dare I say, a mockery device or reason for readers to dislike a character..then you've already lost me.
Personal preferences aside, this was a hard one to get into. We're introduced to a ton of characters, and the timeline is all over the place. There's little development made in the first 20% (IMO), and the propaganda and politics are a driving force behind what's alluded to be happening in June, which makes for a high-anxiety experience (IMO).
Take that information for what you will, reader. Sure, this book poses good questions for what realities would look like for you and me should something like this happen, and it gives you some perspective on how you view your life and others should circumstances be laid bare on your doorstep on the dawn of being 22. But these questions, and their answers, can be had just as easily without needing to spend time and money on a couple hundred pages of too much and not enough at all.
I just found it incredibly depressing.
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