Dream Count is a story of four Nigerian women through their struggles and their wins. It’s built from four separate stories, one for each woman. Chiamaka’s pandemic isolation in America pierced me deeply with her endless picking through old relationships, chasing meaning in people long gone, read like a conversation with my own memories. Zikora’s story of betrayal and recovery made my chest tight with recognition. Then, there is Kadiatou’s story that shattered me, and learning how closely it tracks real events made it land even harder. Finally, Omelogor, the blunt and fierce one who is unwilling to bend for anyone. Their stories cross and tangle the whole way through, dragging in an almost overwhelming pile of themes: racism, sexism, politics, power dynamics.

Sometimes we live for years with yearnings that we cannot name. Until a crack appears in the sky and widens and reveals us to ourselves.

Chiamamanda Ngozi Adichie, Dream Count

The main idea of the plot is great. It’s such a shame that I was disappointed by the execution of the story’s presentation. Adichie tries to hand us an event clearly meant to pull all of it into one cohesive narrative, and sadly, that connection never convinced me. The book is full of perspectives, which sounds like a strength right up until you’re juggling every one of them at once. That strong opening had me hopeful, and the deeper I went, the plainer it got. It is sad that a great start doesn’t carry a whole book on its own, and this one ran out of steam.

What wore me down even more was a few plot threads had real potential, and Adichie left them shallow exactly when I expected her to dig. By the end I was exhausted, still hunting for the deeper meaning, still working to piece together the characters, the plot, and whatever Adichie wanted me to walk away knowing.

Finishing the book brought back something familiar. I remember I’d put this book off for the longest time, even with a whole crowd of popular readers singing its praises. The synopsis gave me that flat “nah” feeling the first time I looked it up. Curiosity got the better of me, though, so I pushed myself to read it anyway. Reaching the last page came with a strange relief, because now I knew exactly why I’d dragged my feet for so long. The disappointment stuck around regardless. I went in with low expectations on purpose, and the book still couldn’t hand me anything to feel satisfied about.

My Favorite Bits

• Sometimes we live for years with yearnings that we cannot name. Until a crack appears in the sky and widens and reveals us to ourselves.

• Everyone echoed, reaching but not touching, the distance between us all further hollowed out.

• Where have all the years gone, and have I made the most of life? But what is the final measure for making the most of life, and how would I know if I have?

• To look back at the past was to be flooded by regret. (..) I thought of all the beginnings, and the lightness of being that comes with beginnings. I grieved the time lost in hoping that whatever I had would turn to wonder.

• A person’s surface was never the full story, or even the story.

• The real benefit of travel is that you encounter the comforting ordinaries of everyone else.

• If you start thinking, you never stop, so best not to start.

• In an unfinished dying, you feel you must mourn yet you can’t begin, because you haven’t reached an end that you understand.

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Author: Chiamamanda Ngozi Adichie
Publication date: 4 March 2025
Number of pages: 474 pages

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