Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, the Nigerian author known around the world for her brilliant works Americanah and We Should All Be Feminists, recently spoke with The Guardian‘s Charlotte Edwardes ahead of the release her long-awaited new novel Dream Count.

Dream Count weaves together the interconnected stories of four women, exploring themes of identity, the immigrant experience, and societal pressures on women. Set in both the US and Nigeria, it tackles topics like the relationship dynamics between Africans and African Americans, the Americanisation of language, and the complexities of motherhood, including late motherhood. At its core is Chiamaka (Chia), a travel writer in her 40s, reflecting on her unfulfilled relationships and the challenges of pursuing a life on her own terms. Set partly during the COVID-19 lockdown, Dream Count delves into nostalgia, missed opportunities, and the intersection of personal dreams and societal expectations.

This novel furthers the strong feminism Adichie has come to be associated with, including, for example, a character’s rebellious “Robyn Hood grants” for women entrepreneurs, and a powerful fictionalization of the story of Nafissatou Diallo–the hotel maid from Guinea who alleged in 2011 that former IMF chief Dominique Strauss-Kahn had attempted to rape her–that forms a “very precious” part of the book.

A lot has happened since Adichie published her last novel, both politically and personally. In this new profile, Adichie opens up about the backlash she faced following her comments about trans women in 2017, the grief of losing both her parents in close succession, and protecting the privacy of her children.

Here are some other memorable moments from the interview.

On writing and grief

I didn’t want to leave such a long gap between novels…When I got pregnant [with her daughter], something just happened. I had a number of years in which I was almost existentially frightened that I wouldn’t write again. It was unbearable.

There are expressions like ‘writer’s block’ I don’t like to use because I’m superstitious. But I had many years in which I felt cast out from my creative self, cast out from the part of me that imagines and creates; I just could not reach it. I could write nonfiction, that was fine. But that’s not what my heart wanted.

On democracy

In some ways, I feel the necessity of bearing witness, so … ” She pauses, then emits a sigh of defeat. “I can’t. Part of the reason I don’t want to talk about Trump is that he takes up too much space. This is what being a megalomaniac is about: taking up all the space. Sometimes, the best form of resistance is ignoring someone. More ignoring should have happened during the first term. Because even the mean girl teenager knows the best thing is not actually to say mean things to the other girl; it’s to ignore her.”

If I ever became president of a country – it sounds crazy – I think it’s possible to work slowly towards a place that is more like a utopia. It’s possible with good leadership. I’m not even like a rabid anti-capitalist, because I’m an Igbo woman. My people are traders. But the kind of capitalism we have now, we don’t need to have. What if we actually employed people, paid them well, thought about their healthcare? Gave people four-day weeks, because we know that human beings thrive better when they’re well rested?

On facing backlash

It’s a cannibalistic ethos…It swiftly, gleefully, brutally eats its own. There is such a quick assumption of ill will and an increasing sanctimony and humourlessness that can often seem inhumane.

What do I want to say about cancel culture? Cancel culture is bad. We should stop it. End of story.

On the new book

…and only when I was almost done did I realise, my God, it’s about my mother. It wasn’t intentional. I’m happy that it’s not a sad book. She wouldn’t want a sad book dedicated to her.

I’m so grateful that I’m back to what I love most – which is writing fiction. But there’s also anxiety. It’s my book, and I’m sending this thing out into the world. I already had sleeping issues. But the night is also when my mind roams. Invariably, it roams to terror. That terror has to be part of the creative process. I’ve always had it. But this time it just feels more finely milled.