Exploring Themes of Identity and Feminism in Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s New Novel
“I’m growing old, the world has transformed, and I have never truly been understood,” reflects Chiamaka, the central character of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s profoundly moving new novel, Dream Count. This marks her first novel in over a decade. The narrative unfolds during the pandemic, where Chiamaka, affectionately known as Chia, is a 44-year-old woman hailing from an affluent Nigerian family. She works as a travel journalist in the United States, having traversed the globe and engaged in numerous relationships. However, as lockdowns compel her to reevaluate her life, she confronts the stark reality of her solitude.
This poignant beginning encapsulates Adichie’s unique ability to intertwine deeply personal narratives with significant political discourse. Since the release of her debut novel, Purple Hibiscus, in 2003, followed by the acclaimed Half of a Yellow Sun (2007) and Americanah (2013), Adichie has established herself as an unflinching chronicler of cultural conflicts, race dynamics, class struggles, gender issues, and the immigrant experience.
Moreover, Adichie stands as one of the few truly global public intellectuals. Her rise to cultural prominence was solidified with her 2012 TED Talk, We Should All Be Feminists, which has since garnered over six million views. The talk was so impactful that Beyoncé incorporated it into her 2013 track “Flawless,” and Dior famously emblazoned the slogan on a £700 T-shirt.
This feminist manifesto earned Adichie widespread acclaim and positioned her as a pivotal figure in bringing feminism into mainstream discourse. However, controversy arose in 2017 when she was questioned about the identity of transgender women. Adichie responded, stating, “a trans woman is a trans woman,” diverging from the widely accepted phrase, “trans women are women.” Although she later expressed her support for trans rights in a blog post, her initial comment sparked significant backlash, revealing a cultural shift that left Adichie seemingly out of step.
“How slippery moralities are, how they circle and thin and change with circumstance,” muses Chia in Dream Count, reflecting on her Aunt Jane’s insistence that she undergo IVF. Chia imagines the “exploding horror” her family would have expressed a decade earlier had she suggested raising a child without a husband. This line resonates deeply, echoing Adichie’s own experiences of public scrutiny since 2017. In the years that followed, Adichie published a children’s book and a non-fiction work, Notes on Grief (2021), a poignant exploration of loss in the wake of her father’s passing.
Dream Count marks a significant return to Adichie’s primary literary form and serves as a reminder of her unparalleled storytelling prowess. Thankfully, she avoids the trend of superficial, brief novels, opting instead for a richly layered narrative that spans multiple characters and decades. Notably, she refrains from wading into the contentious debates surrounding transgender issues, allowing her to focus on broader societal themes.
Set against the backdrop of 2025, Dream Count captures the nuances of cancel culture and the often absurd lengths individuals go to avoid its repercussions. Adichie observes, “They were ironic about liking what they liked, for fear of liking what they were not supposed to like, and they were unable to feel admiration, and so criticized people they would simply have admired.” This sentiment encapsulates a profound sadness about contemporary society.
Chia is not the sole character grappling with love and loss. The narrative shifts to her best friend Zikora, a high-powered lawyer, who finds herself in the throes of childbirth amidst the turmoil of her partner’s disappearance. The presence of her mother, with whom Zikora has always had a strained relationship, unexpectedly fosters a new intimacy born out of shared experience. “Her mother was becoming a person before her eyes,” Adichie lyrically articulates.
The story also introduces Kadiatou, Chia’s housekeeper, who hails from Guinea and has endured unimaginable loss, including the death of her sister due to the complications of female genital mutilation (FGM), a fate she herself has suffered. Seeking asylum in the U.S., Kadiatou strives to build a new life, only to face sexual assault by a prominent guest at the hotel where she works—an echo of Nafissatou Diallo’s case against former IMF chief Dominique Strauss-Kahn. Tragically, like Diallo, Kadiatou’s case is dismissed under allegations of dishonesty regarding her past. This narrative powerfully critiques the systemic failures impacting female migrants of color, particularly those who are economically disadvantaged and uneducated.
- The fourth character in Adichie’s ensemble is Chia’s cousin, Omelogor, a senior banker in Abuja, Nigeria, who grapples with the corrupt practices inherent in her profession. In response, she devises her own illicit scheme: withdrawing funds under the alias Robyn Hood and distributing “grants” to struggling women. “Free money just like that? They’ll spend it. They’ll never use it for business,” a male friend remarks dismissively, to which Omelogor retorts, “You don’t know women.”
Humor pervades the narrative, particularly in the dynamic between Chia, Zikora, and Omelogor, despite their initial mutual disdain. When Chia informs Zikora of Omelogor’s struggles in the U.S., Adichie cleverly writes how “Zikora felt cheered… Omegolor crying? Omegolor could cry? Whatever America had done to her, God bless America.” The tales of the men the women have dated add an entertaining layer to the story, particularly in Adichie’s witty portrayal of one of Omelogor’s exes, described as “not my Big Man type; my Big Man type was self-effacing, but he was puffed up like boiling beans.”
Dream Count also delves into the complexities of motherhood and daughterhood, especially as Zikora acknowledges her need for her mother’s support, and Kadiatou’s unwavering love for her daughter, Binta, drives her every action. In the afterword, Adichie reveals that she penned Dream Count amidst her own grief following her mother’s death in 2021, capturing the essence of a loss that feels both new and painfully familiar. It is a testament to Adichie’s extraordinary abilities that a work born from her personal sorrow resonates universally.
The novel is masterfully crafted and vividly observed. While Adichie has long been recognized as one of the leading feminist thinkers of our time, in Dream Count, she skillfully interweaves physical realities with intellectual discourse. The narrative addresses not only themes of sex and sexual violence but also the physical challenges of womanhood, including menstruation, pregnancy, and childbirth. Adichie captures the often-overlooked discomforts of being a woman, from ill-fitting underwear to the anxiety-induced sweat pooling beneath one’s breasts.
It is refreshing to encounter an author who adeptly combines high-minded feminist theory with such visceral storytelling. In an era where female bodies are often politicized and marginalized—evident in the ongoing practices of FGM and the erosion of reproductive rights—it is crucial that we amplify these narratives. Dream Count by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is published by Fourth Estate, £20.
