So, Nadja was my first ever introduction to surrealist fiction, and all I can say is…at least it was less confusing than Proust.
For starters, the first few parts of the book left me wondering whether I was reading the right book or not, because like… where exactly was Nadja? It felt I was like reading Breton’s notebook, except he’s already circled and underlined parts I was supposed to find profound. I didn’t always. Sometimes I just felt like I was being talked at lol. I do get that that’s sort of the surrealist thing, though.
But when Nadja finally enters the book, it gets so, so, so much more interesting. Not because the writing changes (although it does feel more focused), but because she’s just… weird?? Compellingly, though, don’t get me wrong. I could see why Breton was obsessed with her. But at the same time, it also felt like he only loved her as long as she stayed unreadable to him. The second she became more real—vulnerable, messy, like a normal person—he started distancing himself from her.
There’s this quote that stands out to me: “Andre? Andre? . . . You will write a novel about me. I’m sure you will. Don’t say you won’t.” (pg. 100)
And yeah, well, she was right. But not in the way she probably meant. It doesn’t feel like a love story. It feels like he’s trying to turn her into a symbol of something bigger—Surrealism, madness, mystery—and once she stops being useful for that, she disappears. I also can’t stop thinking about how the book ends. Like, after all that, he doesn’t visit her when she’s institutionalized against her own will (after calling her “mad,” which like… okay??). Like woah. I guess she really was just a phase to you Breton. (Oh, and can we also talk about the fact that he was married the whole time?)
So yeah. This didn’t feel like a love story to me. It felt more like a story about obsession, and not just with Nadja, but with what she represented to him. I don’t think Breton loved her. I think he was fascinated by her, consumed by her strangeness, drawn to her like she was an idea instead of a person.
That being said… I still liked the book. The writing is gorgeous in places, and the structure (or lack thereof) actually made it really interesting to read. I also liked the images scattered between pages. My discussion question would be: Where can we draw the line between love and obsession?