Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

This book is an anguished cry. Most memoirs show growth or progress or resolution. This is not that kind of book. Instead it scuttles expectation by remaining a free fall into grief. There is no safety net of “this is how I got through it”, just the constant awareness of other—that grief always at your side. While the song of her grief is personal, anyone who has grieved can pick up the rhythm. This view into her anger and sadness is so precise that I found myself time and again show more saying, yes-yes that’s been me. The book itself mimics grief. It dwells in shock and pain and has the feeling of no forward movement. The world around her is still humming and churning forward but Adichie herself does not move. And then it ends. Abruptly. And I was left alone with my quiet reaction—grieving of sorts for a book I hoped would last longer.

Much of the reaction I have read to this book is critical of Adichie for not wrapping her grief up in a bow and giving the reader an “it’s gonna be okay” pat on the head. I applaud her for not writing the kind of book that she knows would not have done her any good.

For even more devastating takes on grief, check out Joan Didion’s THE YEAR OF MAGICAL THINKING and Edward Hirsch’s GABRIEL: A POEM. Hirsh’s book in particular left me decimated. show less

Sometimes I like reading a book very slowly so that I can really savour each sentence - Dream Count was that book for me. I think it was how beautiful the prose was, where it felt as if each sentence held weight and had more to offer when you thought about it.
This wouldn't be a novel - as the author herself says in the Author's Note, Dream Count follows these four women's narrations as they think about desires, careers, families, the longing for marriage and motherhood, living in patriarchy show more and western society (while comparing it to society in their home countries in Africa). The book had me thinking, questioning and pondering - a 5 star for me. If you're not too fond of character driven books and are looking for plots and a story, this isn't the book for you. show less

Adichie's newest novel is an exploration of women in their 40s - their friendships with each other, their relationships with their mothers, and how men fit into their lives (or don't). Set during the covid pandemic, the novel begins with the stunningly beautiful Chia doing zoom calls with her friends and family and reflecting on her past relationships - her "dream count". The timeline in this book was tricky to figure out, but covid served to ground me in whether we were in the present or show more past. Chia's best friend Zikora is completely focused on finding a husband and having a child before her time runs out. Kadiatou is Chia's housekeeper and friend and she is raped at the high-end hotel she cleans at by a powerful French politician. Most will recognize this as a slightly veiled reference to Dominique Strauss-Kahn. Omelogor is Chia's cousin who has made millions in finance and lives in Nigeria, proudly single and keeping a blog where she writes letters to men about all the things they should do better in relationships.

The plot and characters didn't grab me the same way some of Adichie's novels have, but her impeccable writing makes this book work. The book straddles life in Nigeria and life in America adeptly, awake to the societal issues present in both countries and how they differ from each other. As always, Adichie's writing and ideas are insightful, complex, and challenging. Though I don't think this is her best work, it is an excellent novel. show less

Adichie's epic novel follows the lives of two twin sisters, Olanna and Kainene, as they navigate both "normal life" of sisterhood, love, and growing into adults and a complicated and violent civil war. The setting is in 1960s Nigeria when the Igbo people attempt to break away from Nigeria into a separate country of Biafra. Commentary on the way colonialism has affected the region runs through the book, but though the politics are present and important, Adichie manages to keep this book about show more the characters. The sisters and those they love are beautifully created and developed. There is also a strong element of feminism present in the book that is subtly but powerfully drawn. I think my attention was probably drawn to it because of reading Rebecca Solnit's essays concurrently.

I really enjoyed this novel. Sometimes a very unfamiliar setting, as this book certainly had for me, leaves me a little confused or distanced from the book, but Adichie has written a book that pushed me out of my comfort zone and taught me a little about Nigeria while grounding her book with characters that have a universal feel. I'd love to read more by her. show less