Dream Count by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Chiamaka is a Nigerian travel writer living in America. Zikora, her best friend, is a lawyer who has been successful at everything until she must turn to the person she thought she needed least. Omelogor, Chiamaka’s bold, outspoken cousin, is a financial powerhouse in Nigeria who begins to question how well she knows herself. And Kadiatou, Chiamaka’s housekeeper, is proudly raising her daughter in America – but faces an unthinkable hardship that threatens all she has worked to achieve. In Dream Count, Adichie trains her fierce eye on these four women in a sparkling, transcendent novel that takes up the very nature of love itself.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s latest much anticipated novel hits the shelves today. Our colleagues Sophie and Damla give us a sneak peak into what to expect and what they thought about it.
Sophie
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie has something of a mythical status in English literature. I’ve only read Half of a Yellow Sun, about the Biafran war, and We Should All Be Feminists. I found the first interesting because it taught me about a war I knew very little about, but I also couldn’t really connect with it; it never swept me off my feet, somehow. I loved the second, a rousing pamphlet that came at the right time. I’ve not yet read Americanah, the book that shot her fame to great heights.
Dream Count starts off strong. Chiamaka is a wonderful character, a confident Nigerian woman making her way in the world. Rich and beautiful but unfortunate in love. Zikora and Omelogor are similarly blessed in life with regards to background, funds, education, and confidence. The writing seems effortless as you follow these women; I zoomed through their parts of the book. The interplay between them and their friends and family felt so recognizable. These are adult women, fully comfortable in themselves, their flaws, and their effect on the world.
Kadiatou, however, has a very different start in life compared to the other three. She’s Guinean, from the countryside, in the shadow of her vibrant sister but content to be there. Life for her is full of obstacles, even though she doesn’t ask for much. The main part of her story is rooted in a real-life case that I remembered being in the papers about ten years ago. For me, it was also the weakest part of the book, even though her experience and the aftermath is carefully handled. Just like I couldn’t connect to the story of Half of a Yellow Sun, also based on real world tragedy, I didn’t click with the Kadiatou during her moments of horror. I don’t know why; perhaps Adichie is more careful bringing real stories to the fore, rather than letting her imagination soar, and that inhibits her writing for me?
Still, Dream Count is a beautiful and vibrant book. The writing style and the way the four women interconnected within their separate stories stand out for me. I also found the experience of a confident, capable African woman outside of Africa wonderful; Adichie’s skewering of college-educated American folks and their inability to look beyond their carefully cultivated views is magnificent. I just couldn’t sink into the part of the book that, to the author, according to her acknowledgements, is the crux of the story. I also find it awful that the real-life Kadiatou was treated the way she was; post-Pelicot I should hope we don’t need perfect victims for assaulting men to get what they deserve. All in all, though, a very enjoyable book that spotlights Nigerian and Guinean society, as well as looks at America from their point of view.
Damla
“I look back now and see my weakness in such sharp relief, being pliant and docile in exchange for nothing; the clarity of hindsight is bewildering. If only we could see our failings while we are still failing.”
After 10 years, Adichie once again proves why she is still a powerhouse in contemporary literary fiction with her latest novel: a deeply resonant account of four women grappling with love, intimacy, relationships, identity, motherhood, race, and wealth.
Chiamaka is a dreamer. Free of financial and traditional burdens, she is naively optimistic yet shamelessly desperate for a profound love.
Zikora is a woman of stubbornness, strength, and independence, refusing to show any vulnerability that lies within.
Kadiatou is a self-sacrificing mother, doomed to lead a heartbreakingly demure and subservient life full of silent acceptance and resilience.
Omelogor is a financial powerhouse, grown accustomed to the luxuries and disproportionate wealth her job has brought her, who clings aggressively to her principles and convictions to solidify her identity.
In Dream Count, we see the inner turmoils of these four women with a haunting honesty not only from their own eyes, but also through each other’s. With each layer, each perspective, as the events unfold in varying degrees of detail, there is something new to uncover about the relationship between these women and the world around them. Once I finished reading all four perspectives, I just wanted to go back to the beginning and read the whole thing again with a new understanding of each character.
As always, Adichie is an expert in making every voice come alive in effortlessly thought-provoking and immersive prose. Her depictions of Ghanaian and Nigerian life, as well as the cultural disconnect that comes with immigration, always fascinate me in her works.
Although it can be long-winded and emotionally taxing at times, Dream Count is a beautifully rich and vibrant piece of literature that is worth the emotional work.
