Nadja, Nadja, Nadja. Nothing in Nadja seems make much sense but I think that’s on purpose. André Breton’s sole focus is the character, the idea of Nadja (except at the start when he was talking about who knows what). He also does not care for the reader; “I shall discuss these things without pre-established order, and according to the mood of the moment……” (23). Well, thanks for nothing, André.
The structure is disjointed, basically non-existent, which I guess is reflective of Nadja herself. Her many moods keep the narrator and the reader on their toes and at the end of the diary-entry section, when Nadja is institutionalized, it’s almost as though maybe she was never there. Maybe she was just a figment of Breton’s scattered imagination. Overall, I wouldn’t say I liked the novel, but I also didn’t hate it Some bits were redeemable, like the dinner scene where the waiter keeps dropping plates, that was funny, and I also enjoyed the photographs and drawings; they added to Nadja’s whimsical, almost childish nature.
On that note though, I found that Breton’s obsession with her made me somewhat uncomfortable, especially when he says things like “This is the second consecutive day I have met her: it is apparent that she is at my mercy”. It’s very ominous to say someone is “at my mercy”. He then doesn’t offer any suggestions on how we should interpret that. Then at one point, Nadja says his kiss is “a kiss with a threat it in” (85). Hello? Considering how Breton’s portrayal of Nadja makes her feel more like a toddler sometimes, wandering this way or that, and his self-insert narrator is married, his affection for her is just weird. His wife apparently knows about Nadja; “I go out at three with my wife and a friend; in the taxi we continue discussing Nadja, as we have been doing during lunch” but we never see how she feels about this situation at all. He basically just ignores her. He basically just ignores everything. I get it, the novel is supposed to be about poetic freedom, and Nadja is that freedom, but it feels like a lot of nothing dressed up as philosophy.
He also annoyed me at the end with his whole I don’t believe in psychiatry blah blah and the whole “beauty will be CONVULSIVE…” (160). Like okay, I love an all-caps moment, but after all that? Sounds an awful lot like an excuse to just not visit Nadja, the woman you were obsessed with two pages earlier. Doesn’t make much sense, but I suppose that’s what surrealism is all about. Nothing makes sense.
2 replies on “Nadja (Nothing Makes Sense)”
Hi! I like your point about it feeling “like a lot of nothing dressed up as philosophy.” I feel the same way, and I liked the way you put it. I was also very lost on his wife during the story.. because why did we get no coverage on how she feels or her reaction whatsoever? This novel was just.. I don’t really know. I liked reading your post though!
Thanks Sofia for your blog post. Do you have a question for us? Don’t forget to include it in your next post!