鈥淒ream Count鈥� feels like a homecoming. The Nigerian author鈥檚 first work of longform fiction in over a decade reminds us of the sharp wisdom and sturdy empathy that have made her one of the most celebrated voices in fiction.
At its face, 鈥淒ream Count鈥� is about the emotional lives of four women living between Nigeria and Washington, D.C., each grappling with a search for purpose, stability and love. Deep into its pages, the book turns to darker questions of justice and exploitation when one character鈥檚 life is irrevocably changed.
The novel begins with the perspective of Chiamaka, or Chia, a Nigerian-born woman who has spent her adulthood and career in America. Living alone amid lockdown in the pandemic, she begins to reflect on a cast of former romances 鈥� each one part of her 鈥渄ream count,鈥� a loose tally she keeps of her efforts to find a complete, all-knowing love. Her voice and memories connect the many threads of 鈥淒ream Count鈥� that follow.
In turns, the book shifts its focus to three other women and their dreams. There is Chia鈥檚 friend Zikora, an ambitious lawyer who is desperate to be a mother, and Chia鈥檚 brazen cousin Omelogor, a banker in Nigeria who has a crisis of confidence upon coming to America.
The novel starts to crackle with urgency and outrage when we meet Kadiatou, Chia鈥檚 cook and housekeeper who also works as a maid in an upscale hotel. Far from the Guinean village of her youth, Kadiatou has finally found steady work and contentment in America when she is suddenly, horrifically assaulted by one of the hotel鈥檚 prominent guests.
Adichie renders the moment of her assault in quick, shuddering details. Though Kadiatou is surprised to find her bosses believe her account, she soon learns that the rest of the world wants a say, as well. Reporters and photographers stake out her apartment within hours of the assault. Her body and life history are dissected as evidence in the lead-up to an international trial.
Kadiatou鈥檚 tale isn鈥檛 born completely of imagination. Nearly 15 years ago, a New York hotel housekeeper named came forward to accuse the then-leader of the International Monetary Fund of sexually assaulting her when she arrived to clean his room. Adichie explains in the novel鈥檚 endnote how she was hooked and gutted by Diallo鈥檚 testimony. "Dream Count" is Adichie鈥檚 way, she writes, of dignifying her story. 鈥淚maginative retellings matter,鈥� she says. 鈥淟iterature keeps the faith and tells the story as reminder, as witness, as testament.鈥�
The novel鈥檚 undercurrent of politics hums louder in the aftermath of those scenes. This is, after all, a book by the same author of 鈥淲e Should All Be Feminists.鈥� We see Chia鈥檚 dream career as a travel writer hampered by American editors who would rather publish outdated stereotypes of Africans. The saucy, sharp Omelogor is willing to play in the corrupt games of powerful men to build her wealth, but feels ridiculed and dismissed in America for that same spirit.
One could question what purpose it serves for the novel to include Kadiatou鈥檚 wrenching survival story alongside the tales of well-to-do women. Though Chia and her friends root for and support Kadiatou, they鈥檙e ultimately embroiled in their own growing pains. At points, the novel鈥檚 sense of time speeds up too quickly or fails to fully develop a thread. (The character Zikora, especially, fades away from later parts of the book.)
But none of these weak points ever risks dampening the novel鈥檚 vibrant energy. 鈥淒ream Count鈥� succeeds because every page is suffused with empathy, and because Adichie鈥檚 voice is as forthright and clarifying as ever. Reading about each woman, we begin to forget that we鈥檙e separate from these characters or that their lives belong to fiction.
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AP book reviews:
Helen Wieffering, The Associated Press
