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Nadja
Nadja (1928) es una obra compleja en la que, a partir de la relación que se estableció en 1924 entre el personaje que da título al relato y el autor, se encuentran todas las claves del Surrealismo en la etapa de su desarrollo inmediatamente posterior a la publicación del primero de sus "Manifiestos", es decir, en pleno dinamismo conceptual. Muy densa en significados, puede ser considerada una de las obras más importantes del autor y del movimiento del que es, sin duda, su quintaesencia. Nadja es la obra germinal del movimiento literario surrealista en nueva traducción y con el comentario del mejor especialista español en ese periodo literario francés.
256 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1928
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About the author
André Breton
285 books784 followersAfter World War I, French poet and literary theorist André Breton began to link at first with Dadaism but broke with that movement to write the first manifesto of surrealism in 1924.
People best know this theorist as the principal founder. His writings include the Surrealist Manifesto (Manifeste du surréalisme), in which he defined this "pure psychic automatism."
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andr%C3...
People best know this theorist as the principal founder. His writings include the Surrealist Manifesto (Manifeste du surréalisme), in which he defined this "pure psychic automatism."
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andr%C3...
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April 27, 2025
Who is the narrator? Spiritus mundi? Anima mundi?
Narrator is André Breton who, however, poses himself as their peer. He recounts as if he is daydreaming…
People and places… Theatre and cinema… Memories and encounters…
At last, after a long preamble – almost half a book – the story begins… He accidentally meets her…
Even the lost souls need love.
Who am I? If this once I were to rely on a proverb, then perhaps everything would amount to knowing whom I “haunt.” I must admit that this last word is misleading, tending to establish between certain beings and myself relations that are stranger, more inescapable, more disturbing than I intended. Such a word means much more than it says, makes me, still alive, play a ghostly part, evidently referring to what I must have ceased to be in order to be who I am.
Narrator is André Breton who, however, poses himself as their peer. He recounts as if he is daydreaming…
At the end of one afternoon, last year, in the side aisles of the “Electric-Palace,” a naked woman, who must have come in wearing only her coat, strolled, dead white, from one row to the next. This in itself was upsetting. Far, unfortunately, from being extraordinary enough, since this section of the “Electric” was the most commonplace sort of illicit sexual rendezvous.
People and places… Theatre and cinema… Memories and encounters…
At last, after a long preamble – almost half a book – the story begins… He accidentally meets her…
She told me her name, the one she had chosen for herself: “Nadja, because in Russian it’s the beginning of the word hope, and because it’s only the beginning.”
“Who are you?” And she, without a moment’s hesitation: “I am the soul in limbo.”
Even the lost souls need love.
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April 28, 2025
Be careful: everything fades, everything vanishes. Something must remain of us…
What better way to see the essence of life fresh and anew than through the eyes of a newfound friend. The world opens up as you turn down avenues you’ve walked by but never had reason to explore before, the language of life reveals new slangs and idioms of place and persons.Nadja by Andre Breton is the first surrealist romance novel and explores the surrealist movement through expression in the character Nadja’s unique way of existing in the word. Nadja—Léona Camile Ghislaine Delacourt (1902-1941)—is ‘the soul of limbo’ wandering through the streets of Paris in poverty like a leaf blown by the winds of chance, and becomes Breton’s muse over the course of their short-lived friendship. While Nadja will likely feel threadbare to a modern reader, it was a major work of early surrealist literature that gleefully captures the movement and passionately chronicles the night walk love affair between Breton and his muse.
Breton wrote that Surrealism is a ‘pure state,’ by which one can channel through art ‘the actual functioning of thought...the superior reality.’ Nadja comes from Breton’s life experiences—though the validity of its heroine was once a topic of heated debate—and attempts to put forth his methodology.
Nadja, as she names herself ‘because in Russian it’s the beginning of the word hope, and because it’s only the beginning’, is seen by Breton as a personification of his surrealist movement. Her lifestyle and actions that ‘approach the extreme limit of surrealist aspiration, its furthest determinant’ as she wanders about seemingly aimless but with a purpose of her own only accessible to her unique pattern of thought. She has incredible visions, extreme shifts in mood and what Breton sees as a free-spirited and unpredictable being. She unabashedly projects the essence of her being that pulls those around her into a surreal reality that shatters their conceptions of the world. Nadja reads like an early inspiration for the ‘manic-pixie-dreamgirl’ cliche that plagues twee coming-of-age novels and films.
‘Eccentricity’ could be a valid label for Nadja’s behavior, but also might bear a misleading connotation of negative aberration. True, her behavior does often position her in dangerous situations that land her in legal trouble, but mental instability and psychiatric investigation is not the intention of her character analysis. Breton does soon tire of her unpredictability and aloofness and after having a massive mental breakdown she is thrust into an asylum (the real Nadja died in the asylum, spending the last fourteen years of her life inside), but the impression of Nadja is one of beauty marvel. She sees the world for the magic in it, and if a consequence of this gift is to be socially inept ‘according to the imbecile code of good sense and good manners’ in the eyes of the masses, than Breton see’s it as worthwhile (if only a bit tiresome). ‘Unless you have been inside a sanitarium,’ he writes near the novel’s conclusion, ‘you do not know that madmen are made there.’ Her behavior and lifestyle is a rebellion against the code of the masses, a window into truth, and it is the resistance of such a pure truth by the masses that cages her into a label of insanity. To Breton, it is her removal from the life she both neglects and embraces that results in her downfall.
It would be interesting to see a newer translation of this, or compare the translation to the original text. Perhaps it is the translator's work, or Breton’s himself, but the fluidity of prose is cumbersome. While lengthy sentences can ring like angelic melody with a careful streetlight system of punctuation, Breton’s sentences are overly punctuated and so stop-and-go with sentences within sentences offset with frequent comma usage that it feels like syntactical epilepsy. Breton did express an attempt at recreating the purity of realistic thought processing, but it seems overly clunky in its attempts. This, however, may be from having read authors writing much more recently (Joseph McElroy has a masterful control over stream-of-consciousness that replicates actual consciousness, for example) that have polished a more fluid prose. Reading Nadja for it’s historical value may very well be more rewarding than its poetic value, which is still quite a feat in and of itself. The novel flows a bit too much like a suffocating river, and is a bit bland, yet Breton still works magic on emotion and intellect.
Nadja is alive and well through Breton’s work, ushering us with her intoxicating yet obfuscating behavior. While she is confirmed to have sprung from an actual person, perhaps the notion that she is more an embodiment of a way of being or a mood than flesh-and-blood is an equally rewarding viewpoint of the novel. Nadja is the sort of person that makes us smitten with characters in novels, knowing full well that they do not exist but falling in love with the essence of them, the constructs of ideas and ideals they represent. It is a pure love, one that exists by pushing reality to its extreme boundaries to enhance reality, much in keeping with Breton’s surrealism. Nadja is an important work, and one that also captures the reader’s heart.
3.5/5
‘Beauty will be CONVULSIVE or will not be at all.
¹ To further highlight the essence of surrealism, there is a fantastic story of Robert Desnos during his imprisonment in the concentration camps that I discovered in an article about his life. One day Desnos is loaded onto a truck with other inmates and driven to the gas chambers. They depart the truck and begin walking in silent, single-file order when Desnos, as some sort of final surrealist joke, breaks from line, grabs the hand of a woman and starts reading her palm. Highly animated and jovial, Desnos declares she has a long life-line and evinces a joyful life full of good fortune. He goes from prisoner to prisoner bestowing each with the news of a long life-line and future success. His actions so disturb the guards as he so insistently and convincingly paints a new colorful reality of life and love onto the actual reality of drab and doom that the guards cannot continue with the execution and order the inmates back onto the truck. They head back to the camp and are never executed.
²Roberto Bolaño named Nadja as one of his sixteen favorite novels (published in Playboy Mexico) and the influence of Nadja is readily apparent through its anecdotal progression and insight into a reality of the essence of life found within the everyday reality. His novels use similar techniques where real experiences form the roots from which fiction is fed; Bolano also writes books like doors left ajar where a simple tracing of names and events reveals a room full of tangible history as an anchor for his fictional reality.
What better way to see the essence of life fresh and anew than through the eyes of a newfound friend. The world opens up as you turn down avenues you’ve walked by but never had reason to explore before, the language of life reveals new slangs and idioms of place and persons.Nadja by Andre Breton is the first surrealist romance novel and explores the surrealist movement through expression in the character Nadja’s unique way of existing in the word. Nadja—Léona Camile Ghislaine Delacourt (1902-1941)—is ‘the soul of limbo’ wandering through the streets of Paris in poverty like a leaf blown by the winds of chance, and becomes Breton’s muse over the course of their short-lived friendship. While Nadja will likely feel threadbare to a modern reader, it was a major work of early surrealist literature that gleefully captures the movement and passionately chronicles the night walk love affair between Breton and his muse.
Breton wrote that Surrealism is a ‘pure state,’ by which one can channel through art ‘the actual functioning of thought...the superior reality.’ Nadja comes from Breton’s life experiences—though the validity of its heroine was once a topic of heated debate—and attempts to put forth his methodology.
I insist on knowing the names, on being interested only in books left ajar, like doors; I will not go looking for keys.The novel has a very episodic feel, jumping through time on the platforms of anecdotes populated by friends of Breton. Robert Desnos¹, Paul Éluard and Man Ray (who also provides several of the many photographs in Nadja) frequently mingle in the text and Breton maps out his walks and outings through frequent mention of notable cafes and buildings to reinforce the reality of his tale by grounding it in the physical world through namedrop and photograph².The first portion of the novel is very diary-like, chronicling his average day to day activities working with his surrealist peers. The meetingi of the mysterious Nadja, however, is the explosive force that turns his world about and the catalyst of the novel’s heart.
Nadja, as she names herself ‘because in Russian it’s the beginning of the word hope, and because it’s only the beginning’, is seen by Breton as a personification of his surrealist movement. Her lifestyle and actions that ‘approach the extreme limit of surrealist aspiration, its furthest determinant’ as she wanders about seemingly aimless but with a purpose of her own only accessible to her unique pattern of thought. She has incredible visions, extreme shifts in mood and what Breton sees as a free-spirited and unpredictable being. She unabashedly projects the essence of her being that pulls those around her into a surreal reality that shatters their conceptions of the world. Nadja reads like an early inspiration for the ‘manic-pixie-dreamgirl’ cliche that plagues twee coming-of-age novels and films.
‘Eccentricity’ could be a valid label for Nadja’s behavior, but also might bear a misleading connotation of negative aberration. True, her behavior does often position her in dangerous situations that land her in legal trouble, but mental instability and psychiatric investigation is not the intention of her character analysis. Breton does soon tire of her unpredictability and aloofness and after having a massive mental breakdown she is thrust into an asylum (the real Nadja died in the asylum, spending the last fourteen years of her life inside), but the impression of Nadja is one of beauty marvel. She sees the world for the magic in it, and if a consequence of this gift is to be socially inept ‘according to the imbecile code of good sense and good manners’ in the eyes of the masses, than Breton see’s it as worthwhile (if only a bit tiresome). ‘Unless you have been inside a sanitarium,’ he writes near the novel’s conclusion, ‘you do not know that madmen are made there.’ Her behavior and lifestyle is a rebellion against the code of the masses, a window into truth, and it is the resistance of such a pure truth by the masses that cages her into a label of insanity. To Breton, it is her removal from the life she both neglects and embraces that results in her downfall.
It would be interesting to see a newer translation of this, or compare the translation to the original text. Perhaps it is the translator's work, or Breton’s himself, but the fluidity of prose is cumbersome. While lengthy sentences can ring like angelic melody with a careful streetlight system of punctuation, Breton’s sentences are overly punctuated and so stop-and-go with sentences within sentences offset with frequent comma usage that it feels like syntactical epilepsy. Breton did express an attempt at recreating the purity of realistic thought processing, but it seems overly clunky in its attempts. This, however, may be from having read authors writing much more recently (Joseph McElroy has a masterful control over stream-of-consciousness that replicates actual consciousness, for example) that have polished a more fluid prose. Reading Nadja for it’s historical value may very well be more rewarding than its poetic value, which is still quite a feat in and of itself. The novel flows a bit too much like a suffocating river, and is a bit bland, yet Breton still works magic on emotion and intellect.
Nadja is alive and well through Breton’s work, ushering us with her intoxicating yet obfuscating behavior. While she is confirmed to have sprung from an actual person, perhaps the notion that she is more an embodiment of a way of being or a mood than flesh-and-blood is an equally rewarding viewpoint of the novel. Nadja is the sort of person that makes us smitten with characters in novels, knowing full well that they do not exist but falling in love with the essence of them, the constructs of ideas and ideals they represent. It is a pure love, one that exists by pushing reality to its extreme boundaries to enhance reality, much in keeping with Breton’s surrealism. Nadja is an important work, and one that also captures the reader’s heart.
3.5/5
‘Beauty will be CONVULSIVE or will not be at all.
¹ To further highlight the essence of surrealism, there is a fantastic story of Robert Desnos during his imprisonment in the concentration camps that I discovered in an article about his life. One day Desnos is loaded onto a truck with other inmates and driven to the gas chambers. They depart the truck and begin walking in silent, single-file order when Desnos, as some sort of final surrealist joke, breaks from line, grabs the hand of a woman and starts reading her palm. Highly animated and jovial, Desnos declares she has a long life-line and evinces a joyful life full of good fortune. He goes from prisoner to prisoner bestowing each with the news of a long life-line and future success. His actions so disturb the guards as he so insistently and convincingly paints a new colorful reality of life and love onto the actual reality of drab and doom that the guards cannot continue with the execution and order the inmates back onto the truck. They head back to the camp and are never executed.
²Roberto Bolaño named Nadja as one of his sixteen favorite novels (published in Playboy Mexico) and the influence of Nadja is readily apparent through its anecdotal progression and insight into a reality of the essence of life found within the everyday reality. His novels use similar techniques where real experiences form the roots from which fiction is fed; Bolano also writes books like doors left ajar where a simple tracing of names and events reveals a room full of tangible history as an anchor for his fictional reality.
December 1, 2016
“I shall discuss these things without pre-established order, and according to the mood of the moment…….”
Andre Breton doesn’t give a fuck; he doesn’t care about you; he doesn’t care about me: he doesn't care about his reader.
He only cares about his Nadja. This book was written for her.
But what is Nadja? The physical Nadja in the novel is a woman dealing intense emotional and psychological problems; she captures the gaze of the narrator and his heart. She becomes his muse, his artistic inspiration. His desire for her is incredible. But does she actually exist? This book is deeply abstract. Breton wrote the manifesto for the surrealist art movement, and some of these ideas are deeply thematic in here.
It feels strangely surreal, hard to define and obscure. The structure mirrors this idea. This is Breton’s book, and he is going to write it how he wants to. He’s not going to follow any rules; he’s not going to create any sense of structure: he’s just going to produce a random piece of writing that exists because it exists. And he’s going to shove some pictures in it too because why not? This sense of nonchalance matches Nadja’s attitude towards life, and the randomness of the images captures her shifting moods and unpredictability. The book is Nadja, and the woman he meets is also Nadja. She is no longer an individual- a person with a past and a history- but an object, an object of artistic power. She resides in this dreamscape.
The idea of the character Nadja, this ideal, is elusive; yet, for a moment the narrator seems to capture her love. She is the embodiment of the surrealist artist movement, an entity that defies convention; she has her own reasons, but they are beyond the conceptions of others. She is an altogether different creature with her strange visions, her air of eccentricity, rapid changes in mood and, perhaps one might term them, delusions. The love the narrator harbours her is nothing short of pure; he sees this being, this woman of undefinable constructs, and is enamoured.
“Beauty will be convulsive or will not be at all.”
Life is random. It has intervals and occurrences that disrupt the flow of your day: it doesn’t follow a perfect construction of organisation. Breton replicates some of these ideas here, but I just don’t think he does it very well. His interludes don’t hold much. There’s an odd bit about cocaine and several autobiographical bits at the start before the novel even gets going. But, again, there’s just not much too them. The real power is with his Nadja.
Because of the fragmented nature of the work, and its general brevity, key elements were remained vague to the point of minimalistic effect. The idea of the dreamscape, the surrealist romance, made this even stronger. But is that a good thing? For me this lacks any real dramatic effect; it never really delivers these ideas. The writing is also rather poor, but perhaps it’s the translation that hinders its effectiveness. The prose does not flow well; it has lots of mechanical aspects such as numerous stops and starts making it feel disjointed. This really hinders the impact of certain important passages: it reduces them. So this creates a novel that had the power to grasp literary greatness, but it just missed it by a very small stretch of the hand. It was ever so close.
Despite its failed potential, this is a novel I am so glad I read. This idea of Nadja is not one I will quickly forget………..
Andre Breton doesn’t give a fuck; he doesn’t care about you; he doesn’t care about me: he doesn't care about his reader.
He only cares about his Nadja. This book was written for her.
But what is Nadja? The physical Nadja in the novel is a woman dealing intense emotional and psychological problems; she captures the gaze of the narrator and his heart. She becomes his muse, his artistic inspiration. His desire for her is incredible. But does she actually exist? This book is deeply abstract. Breton wrote the manifesto for the surrealist art movement, and some of these ideas are deeply thematic in here.
It feels strangely surreal, hard to define and obscure. The structure mirrors this idea. This is Breton’s book, and he is going to write it how he wants to. He’s not going to follow any rules; he’s not going to create any sense of structure: he’s just going to produce a random piece of writing that exists because it exists. And he’s going to shove some pictures in it too because why not? This sense of nonchalance matches Nadja’s attitude towards life, and the randomness of the images captures her shifting moods and unpredictability. The book is Nadja, and the woman he meets is also Nadja. She is no longer an individual- a person with a past and a history- but an object, an object of artistic power. She resides in this dreamscape.
The idea of the character Nadja, this ideal, is elusive; yet, for a moment the narrator seems to capture her love. She is the embodiment of the surrealist artist movement, an entity that defies convention; she has her own reasons, but they are beyond the conceptions of others. She is an altogether different creature with her strange visions, her air of eccentricity, rapid changes in mood and, perhaps one might term them, delusions. The love the narrator harbours her is nothing short of pure; he sees this being, this woman of undefinable constructs, and is enamoured.
“Beauty will be convulsive or will not be at all.”
Life is random. It has intervals and occurrences that disrupt the flow of your day: it doesn’t follow a perfect construction of organisation. Breton replicates some of these ideas here, but I just don’t think he does it very well. His interludes don’t hold much. There’s an odd bit about cocaine and several autobiographical bits at the start before the novel even gets going. But, again, there’s just not much too them. The real power is with his Nadja.
Because of the fragmented nature of the work, and its general brevity, key elements were remained vague to the point of minimalistic effect. The idea of the dreamscape, the surrealist romance, made this even stronger. But is that a good thing? For me this lacks any real dramatic effect; it never really delivers these ideas. The writing is also rather poor, but perhaps it’s the translation that hinders its effectiveness. The prose does not flow well; it has lots of mechanical aspects such as numerous stops and starts making it feel disjointed. This really hinders the impact of certain important passages: it reduces them. So this creates a novel that had the power to grasp literary greatness, but it just missed it by a very small stretch of the hand. It was ever so close.
Despite its failed potential, this is a novel I am so glad I read. This idea of Nadja is not one I will quickly forget………..
November 10, 2025
It's one of those books you either love or hate. Nadja, without a doubt, is one of them. This hybrid text, situated on the borders of autobiography, essay, and novel, is embellished with photographs, drawings, and literary references, and is majestic and overwhelming. Breton does not seek to please. He shudders and is disturbed. It propels its reader into the surrealist movement at the gates of madness. Who was Nadja? Elusive and indecipherable, Nadja seems to be the embodiment of surrealism. It seems so unreal that one would think it came from Breton's imagination. Yet Nadja was. But the real and eternal question is elsewhere. Who am I?
The last part is a magnificent plea against the deprivation of liberty and the fledgling psychiatric medicine at a time when entering a "specialized" hospital meant never leaving it again. Praise of madness, rejection of decency, and the right to be different. Gorgeous and timeless.
The last part is a magnificent plea against the deprivation of liberty and the fledgling psychiatric medicine at a time when entering a "specialized" hospital meant never leaving it again. Praise of madness, rejection of decency, and the right to be different. Gorgeous and timeless.
January 13, 2011
When I was in college, I was in a block section. We were around 40 and we were classmates in all subjects from 1st year to 3rd year. Our last year was an internship in a hospital. During that year, we were mixed with other interns from other schools. That was the year when I met my first real love.
One early morning, I was doing complete blood count near the window of the laboratory. I was on duty the whole night and was scheduled to leave at around 9:00 a.m. I was done with the count and just writing the results. When I glanced at the window, I saw that the trees and garden in front of the hospital were still partly hidden in the thick fog. Then I saw an image of a girl wearing a white frock (laboratory gown) almost as white as the fog. I knew who she was. She was an intern from another school. She was in the day shift but she came early just to share with me the breakfast that she cooked in her dormitory. She would like me to have a taste of her cooking. I was amused by the attention that she was giving me. The girls in my block section were never like that. Oh maybe because we all knew each other that we were like brothers and sisters already. No more mystery to ignite curiousity and create the chemistry to spark romance.
It's been 25 years since that morning but I still vividly remember that scene. My first love appearing from the fog just like a dream. Surreal. Bizarre. Dreamlike.
Nadja (1927) written by the pricipal founder of Surrealism, Andre Breton (1896-1966) was like that. It is surreal, bizarre, dreamlike but it will make you remember your past love or the first time you felt in love. It is about a man falling in love with a woman amidst the beauty of Paris in the 1920's. The narrative is punctuated with 40 photographs showing the places, people and events related to the short-lived love story. Surreal is a literary genre and this novel is its most popular example. The narrative is linear but vague. While reading it, one can never be sure if Nadja is a real woman, an idea or an illusion. The narrator's feeling is also going in all directions: love, infatuation, curiousity, apathy, indifference, etc. There is a reason for the last two that I would not want to share as I do not want to spoil your fun (in case you want to read this book too).
Suffice it to say that this novel is unique in its structure, narration and characters. The plot is typical but it is a worthwhile reading experience. It deserves its place in the 501 Must Read Books and 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die. Breton defined "surrealism" as pure, psychic automatism. As an example, you hold a pen and move your hand freely. The curves, lines, points can reveal secrets about your inner self. This is called "automatism" or automatic drawing and is part of the Surrealist beliefs. With that example, think Breton writing this semi-autobiographical novel about a girl he met in France, fell in love with and stayed with her for 10 days. Throw in 40 photographs of the places they went and the things they shared. That, in essence was what Breton did here in Nadja.
My first love did not become my wife but our relationship lasted for 2 years. Unknown to my wife, I still keep our photographs, small mementos and the letters she gave me. Whenever I look at them, I still remember the days we were together. Surreal. Bizarre. Dreamlike.
One early morning, I was doing complete blood count near the window of the laboratory. I was on duty the whole night and was scheduled to leave at around 9:00 a.m. I was done with the count and just writing the results. When I glanced at the window, I saw that the trees and garden in front of the hospital were still partly hidden in the thick fog. Then I saw an image of a girl wearing a white frock (laboratory gown) almost as white as the fog. I knew who she was. She was an intern from another school. She was in the day shift but she came early just to share with me the breakfast that she cooked in her dormitory. She would like me to have a taste of her cooking. I was amused by the attention that she was giving me. The girls in my block section were never like that. Oh maybe because we all knew each other that we were like brothers and sisters already. No more mystery to ignite curiousity and create the chemistry to spark romance.
It's been 25 years since that morning but I still vividly remember that scene. My first love appearing from the fog just like a dream. Surreal. Bizarre. Dreamlike.
Nadja (1927) written by the pricipal founder of Surrealism, Andre Breton (1896-1966) was like that. It is surreal, bizarre, dreamlike but it will make you remember your past love or the first time you felt in love. It is about a man falling in love with a woman amidst the beauty of Paris in the 1920's. The narrative is punctuated with 40 photographs showing the places, people and events related to the short-lived love story. Surreal is a literary genre and this novel is its most popular example. The narrative is linear but vague. While reading it, one can never be sure if Nadja is a real woman, an idea or an illusion. The narrator's feeling is also going in all directions: love, infatuation, curiousity, apathy, indifference, etc. There is a reason for the last two that I would not want to share as I do not want to spoil your fun (in case you want to read this book too).
Suffice it to say that this novel is unique in its structure, narration and characters. The plot is typical but it is a worthwhile reading experience. It deserves its place in the 501 Must Read Books and 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die. Breton defined "surrealism" as pure, psychic automatism. As an example, you hold a pen and move your hand freely. The curves, lines, points can reveal secrets about your inner self. This is called "automatism" or automatic drawing and is part of the Surrealist beliefs. With that example, think Breton writing this semi-autobiographical novel about a girl he met in France, fell in love with and stayed with her for 10 days. Throw in 40 photographs of the places they went and the things they shared. That, in essence was what Breton did here in Nadja.
My first love did not become my wife but our relationship lasted for 2 years. Unknown to my wife, I still keep our photographs, small mementos and the letters she gave me. Whenever I look at them, I still remember the days we were together. Surreal. Bizarre. Dreamlike.
June 1, 2025
3.5
Who goes there? Is it you, Nadja? Is it true that the beyond, that everything beyond is here in this life? I can’t hear you. Who goes there? Is it only me? Is it myself?
“Who am I?” with this question begins this semi-autobiographical, philosophical and surrealist romance.
After asking this question, our narrator goes on to recount his brief encounter with an elusive girl he calls Nadja and how her presence and absence shaped his ideas about coincidences, beauty, art, reality and surrealism.
At times, it is terrible to be so alone.
As the narrative unravels, we become unsure of what truly exists and what is only a figment of the author’s imagination.
With the end of my breath, which is the beginning of yours…
Does Nadja really exist? Has she really lost her mind? Or she is perceived ‘mad’ because society doesn’t agree with her unconventional behavior?
Beauty will be convulsive or will not be at all.
This surrealist and somewhat confusing (was it the translation?) story is part diary entries and philosophical ruminations and part photographs of real places and real people mixed with surrealist drawings done by the mysterious Nadja.
Who goes there? Is it you, Nadja? Is it true that the beyond, that everything beyond is here in this life? I can’t hear you. Who goes there? Is it only me? Is it myself?
“Who am I?” with this question begins this semi-autobiographical, philosophical and surrealist romance.
After asking this question, our narrator goes on to recount his brief encounter with an elusive girl he calls Nadja and how her presence and absence shaped his ideas about coincidences, beauty, art, reality and surrealism.
At times, it is terrible to be so alone.
As the narrative unravels, we become unsure of what truly exists and what is only a figment of the author’s imagination.
With the end of my breath, which is the beginning of yours…
Does Nadja really exist? Has she really lost her mind? Or she is perceived ‘mad’ because society doesn’t agree with her unconventional behavior?
Beauty will be convulsive or will not be at all.
This surrealist and somewhat confusing (was it the translation?) story is part diary entries and philosophical ruminations and part photographs of real places and real people mixed with surrealist drawings done by the mysterious Nadja.
December 9, 2022
!آندره
جزیره. من. "جهانِ بی ریشه. بادبادکی سرگردان." سرگردانی روحم جزیره ای بود که کلماتت خوابش را آشفته کرد. جزیرهی آشفته ای که در آن گیر افتاده ام و مرا از آن گریزی نیست. جزیرهای خالی از حیوانات درندهی آشنا, و مملو اما از بیگانگان عجیبی که بر روی دو پا راه میروند و نگاه کردن, شنیدن, و حرف زدن نمیدانند. نگاهم کن, آندره! حرف بزن! ناگفتنی ها. نشنیدنیها. کلمه. کلمه. کلمه. با کلماتِ "سرخ, سفید, و آبی": پنجره ای نیمباز و فراموش شده که طریقِ بستنش را دیگر به یاد نمیآورم. برگرد و این پنجره را بر هم بکوب!
آندره؟
کاشف ها فصل به فصل به جزیرهام می آیند و در هر بازگشت, تکه ای از مرا با خود به یادگار میبرند. من روی ساحل نشسته ام و دور شدن کشتیها را تماشا میکنم. من اجازهی سوار شدن ندارم. اینجا بر روی ماسه ها نشسته ام و نامهی بیجوابی مینویسم که نخواهیاش خواند.
!آندره
شب است. اینجا همیشه شب است, آندره. آخرین رد پاهای روی ساحل در حال ناپدید شدن هستند. رد پاهایی که از زنجیرهای جزیره تا رهایی در دل اقیانوس طوفانی ادامه دارد. رد پاهایی بی رحمانه که تو جا گذاشتی.
جزیره خوابیده. جزیره خود را به خواب زده؟ من روی ماسه های سرد دراز می کشم. خیره به دورترین فانوس دریایی. رد پایی وجود ندارد. جزیره سخت نفس میکشد. سایه ای شبیه تو از پشت فانوس دریایی دست تکان میدهد که "از این طرف... از این طرف!". سایهای که تو نیستی محو میشود و من در ماسه ها فرو و فروتر میروم.
...آندره
سردم شده. خوابم گرفته. می ترسم. و زمانی باقی نمانده. باید پوست بیندازم. باید به آب بزنم. به دل طوفان. به سمت نوری که تو میتابانی. زنجیرهای جزیره به دست و پایم گره خوردهاند، زخمیام میکنند و مرا به عمق اقیانوس می کشانند. اگر شب تمام نشود؟ اگر نفسی نمانَد؟ باید به فریادهای پشت سرم بی اعتنا باشم. باید پا بزنم. به سمت نور. به سمت تو. به سمت نوری که تویی. میرسم روزی؟ تو میدانی. آنها که پشت سرند, نمیدانند...
جزیره. من. "جهانِ بی ریشه. بادبادکی سرگردان." سرگردانی روحم جزیره ای بود که کلماتت خوابش را آشفته کرد. جزیرهی آشفته ای که در آن گیر افتاده ام و مرا از آن گریزی نیست. جزیرهای خالی از حیوانات درندهی آشنا, و مملو اما از بیگانگان عجیبی که بر روی دو پا راه میروند و نگاه کردن, شنیدن, و حرف زدن نمیدانند. نگاهم کن, آندره! حرف بزن! ناگفتنی ها. نشنیدنیها. کلمه. کلمه. کلمه. با کلماتِ "سرخ, سفید, و آبی": پنجره ای نیمباز و فراموش شده که طریقِ بستنش را دیگر به یاد نمیآورم. برگرد و این پنجره را بر هم بکوب!
آندره؟
کاشف ها فصل به فصل به جزیرهام می آیند و در هر بازگشت, تکه ای از مرا با خود به یادگار میبرند. من روی ساحل نشسته ام و دور شدن کشتیها را تماشا میکنم. من اجازهی سوار شدن ندارم. اینجا بر روی ماسه ها نشسته ام و نامهی بیجوابی مینویسم که نخواهیاش خواند.
!آندره
شب است. اینجا همیشه شب است, آندره. آخرین رد پاهای روی ساحل در حال ناپدید شدن هستند. رد پاهایی که از زنجیرهای جزیره تا رهایی در دل اقیانوس طوفانی ادامه دارد. رد پاهایی بی رحمانه که تو جا گذاشتی.
جزیره خوابیده. جزیره خود را به خواب زده؟ من روی ماسه های سرد دراز می کشم. خیره به دورترین فانوس دریایی. رد پایی وجود ندارد. جزیره سخت نفس میکشد. سایه ای شبیه تو از پشت فانوس دریایی دست تکان میدهد که "از این طرف... از این طرف!". سایهای که تو نیستی محو میشود و من در ماسه ها فرو و فروتر میروم.
...آندره
سردم شده. خوابم گرفته. می ترسم. و زمانی باقی نمانده. باید پوست بیندازم. باید به آب بزنم. به دل طوفان. به سمت نوری که تو میتابانی. زنجیرهای جزیره به دست و پایم گره خوردهاند، زخمیام میکنند و مرا به عمق اقیانوس می کشانند. اگر شب تمام نشود؟ اگر نفسی نمانَد؟ باید به فریادهای پشت سرم بی اعتنا باشم. باید پا بزنم. به سمت نور. به سمت تو. به سمت نوری که تویی. میرسم روزی؟ تو میدانی. آنها که پشت سرند, نمیدانند...
May 24, 2012
A lot of writers nowadays would describe their books as 'surreal' when they really mean full of pretentious randomness, but this is the real deal - complete with drawings reproductions and Max Ernst cameos. But beside the surrealism and the exciting format, it's really just Manic Pixie Dream Girl in early 20th century Paris.
August 1, 2024
بینظیر
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زندگی با آنچه مینویسیم فرق دارد.چند لحظهی دیگر هم معطلم کرد تا توضیح بدهد چه چیزی در من بود که بر او تاثیر میگذاشت.ظاهرا،در افکارم،در گفتارم،در کل رفتارم،نشانی از آن میدید_ و این یکی از آن احساس برانگیزترین تعارفهایی بود که در تمام عمر شنیدهام_سادگیام.
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#نادیا#آندره_برتون
#کاوه_میرعباسی 📝کتاب با جملهی "کی هستم؟" شروع میشود. اینکه نویسنده به دنبال کیستی کنونیاش است. میخواهد به قول خودش تاثیرگذارترین رویدادهای زندگیاش را بازگو کند که بر پایهی قضا و قدر بودهاند و از خواست و اختیار او خارج بودند. نقطهی آغاز حرکت او از هتل دگرانزوم در سال ۱۹۱۸ است که در این میان نویسنده تمام پرسهزنیها و گشت و گذارهایش را در شهر و افکار و مشغولیات ذهنیاش را بیان میکند.
در یکی از بعدازظهرهای بیکاری محض و ملال عمیق در خیابان لامانت پرسه میزند و بعد از تماشای ویترین کتابفروشی و خرید یک کتاب... چشمش به زنی جوان میافتد که سروضعی فقیرانه دارد...
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بر خلاف سایر رهگذران،با گردن افراشته حرکت میکرد.به قدری شکننده به نظر میرسید،که انگار پاهایش موقع راه رفتن زمین را لمس نمیکردند.گمانم لبخندی نامحسوس بر چهرهاش پرسه میزد...
و اینگونه ماجرای آشناییاش با نادیا آغاز میشود...
📝این کتاب فسقلی ۱۶۵ صفحهای پوست منو کَند تا تموم شد 🤪چون بعضی جملاتش رو نمیفهمیدم و دوباره میخوندم 🤭ولی انقدر انقدر برام لذتبخش و دوستداشتنی بود که ارزششو داشت و بینهایت لذت بردم❤️
📝کلا سبک سورئالیسم یا فرا واقعگرایانه یکی از جنبشهای هنری قرن بیستم است و آندره برتون یکی از پیروان اصلی این سبک بوده و مبداش از فرانسه در سال ۱۹۲۲ است و به معنی میل به دگرگونی در زندگی روزمره از طریق آشکارسازی امر شگفتانگیز و تصادفی عینی نهفته در نظم ظاهری واقعیت است و همینطور که تو کپشن از متن کتاب نوشتم تو این کتاب کاملا مشهود بود.در این سبک فرد میتواند حالات درونی خود را به صورت شفاهی یا کلامی و یا هر حالت دیگری ابراز کند.مثلا در این کتاب داستان با بیش از ۵۰ عکس تکمیل شده است.تصاویر هم شامل چهرههایی شاخص طرفدار سورئالیسم از جمله شاعران و نویسندگان است که از آنها در کتاب هم نام برده شده، یا حتی مکانها و اشیایی که به نوعی نویسنده با آنها ارتباط دارد و یا حضور نادیا رو برایش تداعی میکند که واقعی بودن یا نبودن آن به عهدهی تشخیص خود خواننده است و در کل هدف این سبک آزادسازی فکر و زبان و ذهن است
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زندگی با آنچه مینویسیم فرق دارد.چند لحظهی دیگر هم معطلم کرد تا توضیح بدهد چه چیزی در من بود که بر او تاثیر میگذاشت.ظاهرا،در افکارم،در گفتارم،در کل رفتارم،نشانی از آن میدید_ و این یکی از آن احساس برانگیزترین تعارفهایی بود که در تمام عمر شنیدهام_سادگیام.
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#نادیا#آندره_برتون
#کاوه_میرعباسی 📝کتاب با جملهی "کی هستم؟" شروع میشود. اینکه نویسنده به دنبال کیستی کنونیاش است. میخواهد به قول خودش تاثیرگذارترین رویدادهای زندگیاش را بازگو کند که بر پایهی قضا و قدر بودهاند و از خواست و اختیار او خارج بودند. نقطهی آغاز حرکت او از هتل دگرانزوم در سال ۱۹۱۸ است که در این میان نویسنده تمام پرسهزنیها و گشت و گذارهایش را در شهر و افکار و مشغولیات ذهنیاش را بیان میکند.
در یکی از بعدازظهرهای بیکاری محض و ملال عمیق در خیابان لامانت پرسه میزند و بعد از تماشای ویترین کتابفروشی و خرید یک کتاب... چشمش به زنی جوان میافتد که سروضعی فقیرانه دارد...
.
بر خلاف سایر رهگذران،با گردن افراشته حرکت میکرد.به قدری شکننده به نظر میرسید،که انگار پاهایش موقع راه رفتن زمین را لمس نمیکردند.گمانم لبخندی نامحسوس بر چهرهاش پرسه میزد...
و اینگونه ماجرای آشناییاش با نادیا آغاز میشود...
📝این کتاب فسقلی ۱۶۵ صفحهای پوست منو کَند تا تموم شد 🤪چون بعضی جملاتش رو نمیفهمیدم و دوباره میخوندم 🤭ولی انقدر انقدر برام لذتبخش و دوستداشتنی بود که ارزششو داشت و بینهایت لذت بردم❤️
📝کلا سبک سورئالیسم یا فرا واقعگرایانه یکی از جنبشهای هنری قرن بیستم است و آندره برتون یکی از پیروان اصلی این سبک بوده و مبداش از فرانسه در سال ۱۹۲۲ است و به معنی میل به دگرگونی در زندگی روزمره از طریق آشکارسازی امر شگفتانگیز و تصادفی عینی نهفته در نظم ظاهری واقعیت است و همینطور که تو کپشن از متن کتاب نوشتم تو این کتاب کاملا مشهود بود.در این سبک فرد میتواند حالات درونی خود را به صورت شفاهی یا کلامی و یا هر حالت دیگری ابراز کند.مثلا در این کتاب داستان با بیش از ۵۰ عکس تکمیل شده است.تصاویر هم شامل چهرههایی شاخص طرفدار سورئالیسم از جمله شاعران و نویسندگان است که از آنها در کتاب هم نام برده شده، یا حتی مکانها و اشیایی که به نوعی نویسنده با آنها ارتباط دارد و یا حضور نادیا رو برایش تداعی میکند که واقعی بودن یا نبودن آن به عهدهی تشخیص خود خواننده است و در کل هدف این سبک آزادسازی فکر و زبان و ذهن است
Read
April 4, 2025A Crushingly Sexist Book
I have written on Nadja at some length, from another perspective, on another site.
Here I only want to note an amazing obtuseness. Nadja is part of the history of psychoanalysis because it's part of Breton's reading of Freud. But psychologically it is a horror show. In the book the narrator, Breton, is married; he starts seeing Nadja, and it never occurs to him — either as a narrator, or as an author who might consider his book's structure and voice — to say anything about how he feels about his wife, or vice versa. At one point he writes:
"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." (p. 91)
This is the first we've been told the narrator has mentioned Nadja to his wife, and Breton doesn't seem to be aware that readers might expect him to put some inflection on this revelation — either that it was normal in their marriage, or that they had been arguing. A moment later he spots her:
"I run, completely at random, in one of the three directions she may have taken."
Again, no mention of what his wife thinks of this behavior. And at the bottom of the same page:
"This is the second consecutive day I have met her: it is apparent that she is at my mercy."
No notation about how we're meant to understand that.
When Nadja is committed to an asylum, Breton writes several pages exonerating himself for any responsibility (p. 136), hoping that Nadja doesn't think there's a difference between life outside and inside the asylum, and excoriating the psychiatric community; he then uses that as an excuse for never visiting her!
"My general contempt for psychiatry, its rituals and its works, is reason enough for my not yet having dared investigate what has become of Nadja." (p. 141)
It doesn't seem to occur to him this might seem pusillanimous, or that his intellectual and abstract critique of psychiatry may appear either as heartless, or — worse, from his point of view — as a construction that can help release him from his love for her. (After all, if madness and sanity interpenetrate, as he insists, why not continue to love Nadja?)
As a document of Breton's Surrealism, as an experiment with images, an instance of psychoanalysis, dream analysis, clairvoyance and mysticism in Paris in 1928, and as an experiment in writing with images (as I discuss on the other site), Nadja is often fascinating. But as a novel, a memoir, an autofiction, or any sort of reflective narrative, it's appalling. Or at the very least, impenetrably obtuse.
I have written on Nadja at some length, from another perspective, on another site.
Here I only want to note an amazing obtuseness. Nadja is part of the history of psychoanalysis because it's part of Breton's reading of Freud. But psychologically it is a horror show. In the book the narrator, Breton, is married; he starts seeing Nadja, and it never occurs to him — either as a narrator, or as an author who might consider his book's structure and voice — to say anything about how he feels about his wife, or vice versa. At one point he writes:
"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." (p. 91)
This is the first we've been told the narrator has mentioned Nadja to his wife, and Breton doesn't seem to be aware that readers might expect him to put some inflection on this revelation — either that it was normal in their marriage, or that they had been arguing. A moment later he spots her:
"I run, completely at random, in one of the three directions she may have taken."
Again, no mention of what his wife thinks of this behavior. And at the bottom of the same page:
"This is the second consecutive day I have met her: it is apparent that she is at my mercy."
No notation about how we're meant to understand that.
When Nadja is committed to an asylum, Breton writes several pages exonerating himself for any responsibility (p. 136), hoping that Nadja doesn't think there's a difference between life outside and inside the asylum, and excoriating the psychiatric community; he then uses that as an excuse for never visiting her!
"My general contempt for psychiatry, its rituals and its works, is reason enough for my not yet having dared investigate what has become of Nadja." (p. 141)
It doesn't seem to occur to him this might seem pusillanimous, or that his intellectual and abstract critique of psychiatry may appear either as heartless, or — worse, from his point of view — as a construction that can help release him from his love for her. (After all, if madness and sanity interpenetrate, as he insists, why not continue to love Nadja?)
As a document of Breton's Surrealism, as an experiment with images, an instance of psychoanalysis, dream analysis, clairvoyance and mysticism in Paris in 1928, and as an experiment in writing with images (as I discuss on the other site), Nadja is often fascinating. But as a novel, a memoir, an autofiction, or any sort of reflective narrative, it's appalling. Or at the very least, impenetrably obtuse.
March 3, 2019
Bu kült eser bu kez İsmet Birkan'ın çevirisiyle çok yakında...
March 22, 2020
Really going to have this one again, as I simply don't yet know what to make of it. Nadja is certainly a strange, mystifying and unique book, that I suppose typically could only have come out of France. How to classify Nadja? Is it a novel? Or maybe creative non-fiction? In the easiest terms possible Nadja is a kind of love story written with objective Philosophical Prose set around Breton's enchantment with a liminal, odd young woman who seems to him the living embodiment of surrealism. Based on a relationship which inspires the feelings of love and attraction, with journal entries that create a sense of reality as it happens, it's all carried through with a stylistic eloquence and spirit of the Enlightenment as Breton whirls us through, among other things, the squares and boulevards of a Paris that was still, as Nietzsche put it a few decades earlier, the only city in Europe for artists. Off the top of my head, I can't think of anything else to compare it with. There will be those who love it (obviously fans of the Surrealist movement), those who laugh it off as nonsense, and those like me who just can't quite make up their mind yet.
December 8, 2022
بیشتر ۳/۵
من فکر میکنم که تن فروشی هم مثل بازاریابی برای فروش هر چیز دیگه ای به استعداد و اعتماد بنفس خاصی احتیاج داره و زیبایی صورت و بدن این استعداد رو تکمیل میکنه.
...
خب بنظر میاد نوشتن توی سبک سورئال راحت ترین کاره
من فکر میکنم که تن فروشی هم مثل بازاریابی برای فروش هر چیز دیگه ای به استعداد و اعتماد بنفس خاصی احتیاج داره و زیبایی صورت و بدن این استعداد رو تکمیل میکنه.
...
خب بنظر میاد نوشتن توی سبک سورئال راحت ترین کاره
May 25, 2024
Wenn Traum und Wirklichkeit sich überschneiden und Glück andeuten: ein intellektuelles Abenteuer.
Inhalt: 5/5 Sterne (Paris Kulturwildnis)
Form: 4/5 Sterne (sich drehend, explorierende Sprache)
Komposition: 2/5 Sterne (Wortfluss – ohne Wertung)
Leseerlebnis: 5/5 Sterne (sanftmütiges Hoffen auf Mehr)
Der Surrealismus entstand in den 1920ern als intellektualisierte Gegenbewegung zum Dadaismus mit psychoanalytischen Begriffen im Gepäck: Der Traum gilt ihm als écriture automatique, als Produzent des Wahren, denn der Alltag will gesehen, nicht verschleiert, die Sinne entriegelt, nicht entzückt werden. Aus dem Surrealismus erwuchsen alle möglichen Formen von Avantgardismus. Als Hauptwerk neben Die Manifeste des Surrealismus gilt André Bretons: Nadja aus dem Jahr 1928:
Wenn ich [das Wort Ich], kaum mißbräuchlich, in diesem Sinne nehme, gibt es mir zu verstehen, daß die objektiven Äußerungen meiner Existenz, die ich nämlich für solche halte, mehr oder weniger vorsätzliche Äußerungen, nur der in die Grenzen dieses Lebens eintretende Teil einer Aktivität sind, deren wirkliches Feld mir ganz und gar unbekannt ist.
In diesem Gefühl des Selbst-Beduselt-Seins wabert Bretons Erzähl-Ich durch die Straßen von Paris, durch die Kunstszene, flaniert über die Kopfsteinpflaster in Montmartre, beschnuppert die Seine, streift durch die Rive Gauche des Quartier Latin und St. Germain-des-Prés, bis von einen Augenblick auf den anderen, aus dem Nichts, sinnentriegelnd, eine, diese Frau in sein Leben tritt:
Plötzlich, sie ist vielleicht noch zehn Schritte von mir entfernt und kommt in entgegengesetzter Richtung, sehe ich eine junge, sehr ärmlich gekleidete Frau, und sie sieht mich ebenfalls oder hat mich gesehen. Im Gegensatz zu allen anderen Passanten geht sie mit erhobenem Kopf. So zart, daß sie den Fuß kaum aufsetzt. Ein unmerkliches Lächeln huscht wohl über ihr Gesicht.
Hier beginnt die Reise des leider sehr kurzen Buches, schwadroniert, ohne zu bramarbasieren, über die Möglichkeit von Glück und Traum, Hoffnung und Möglichkeiten eines Lebens jenseits von einzwängenden Normen: Nadja als Diminutivum von ‚nadjeshda‘ (Hoffnung), und in der Tat versteht sich der Surrealismus als ein Darüberhinaus und zumindest Trost in der Phantasterei, wenn es doch nichts mit Allem und dem Ganzen wird:
Ich werde nicht gegen ihre geheimnisvollsten und härtesten Pausen protestieren. Das hieße den Lauf der Welt aufhalten wollen zugunsten ich weiß nicht welcher illusorischen Macht, die sie über die Welt hätte. Das hieße leugnen, daß »zwar jeder besser sein will und besser zu sein glaubt als die Welt, in der er lebt, daß aber derjenige, der besser ist, dieselbe Welt nur besser ausdrückt als andere.« (Hegel)
Nadja von André Breton liest sich als Januskopf zwischen Theorie und Lyrik, Traum und Roman, zwischen Improvisation, windschiefer Komposition und geglückter Augenblickshaftigkeit eines Verlangens, durch den Text über die Worte hinaus in die symbolische Form des Alltags einzugreifen. In äußerster, nüchterner Verdichtung, Selbstbeobachtung und Vivisektion, beschreitet das Erzähl-Ich sein eigenes Paris, sein Verlangen, seine Angst. Es verarbeitet seine Trauer, dass von Nadja nur ein Moment, ein Abschied, eine Möglichkeit von Glück verblieben ist, also ein Gefühl wie eine Landschaft, die ihn tröstet und erinnert wie ein zeitloser, vor ihn sich ausbreitender, Sprache gewordener Traum.
Tatsächlich besitzt Nadja keinen wirklichen Plot. Breton bearbeitet das Symbolische als Imaginäres eines fortgesetzten Versuches, die Sprache über sich hinauswachsen zu lassen. Als solches gelesen (nicht als Roman) mag es Berge versetzen, die den Blick auf das funkelnd Ozeanische bislang verstellt haben.
Inhalt: 5/5 Sterne (Paris Kulturwildnis)
Form: 4/5 Sterne (sich drehend, explorierende Sprache)
Komposition: 2/5 Sterne (Wortfluss – ohne Wertung)
Leseerlebnis: 5/5 Sterne (sanftmütiges Hoffen auf Mehr)
Der Surrealismus entstand in den 1920ern als intellektualisierte Gegenbewegung zum Dadaismus mit psychoanalytischen Begriffen im Gepäck: Der Traum gilt ihm als écriture automatique, als Produzent des Wahren, denn der Alltag will gesehen, nicht verschleiert, die Sinne entriegelt, nicht entzückt werden. Aus dem Surrealismus erwuchsen alle möglichen Formen von Avantgardismus. Als Hauptwerk neben Die Manifeste des Surrealismus gilt André Bretons: Nadja aus dem Jahr 1928:
Wenn ich [das Wort Ich], kaum mißbräuchlich, in diesem Sinne nehme, gibt es mir zu verstehen, daß die objektiven Äußerungen meiner Existenz, die ich nämlich für solche halte, mehr oder weniger vorsätzliche Äußerungen, nur der in die Grenzen dieses Lebens eintretende Teil einer Aktivität sind, deren wirkliches Feld mir ganz und gar unbekannt ist.
In diesem Gefühl des Selbst-Beduselt-Seins wabert Bretons Erzähl-Ich durch die Straßen von Paris, durch die Kunstszene, flaniert über die Kopfsteinpflaster in Montmartre, beschnuppert die Seine, streift durch die Rive Gauche des Quartier Latin und St. Germain-des-Prés, bis von einen Augenblick auf den anderen, aus dem Nichts, sinnentriegelnd, eine, diese Frau in sein Leben tritt:
Plötzlich, sie ist vielleicht noch zehn Schritte von mir entfernt und kommt in entgegengesetzter Richtung, sehe ich eine junge, sehr ärmlich gekleidete Frau, und sie sieht mich ebenfalls oder hat mich gesehen. Im Gegensatz zu allen anderen Passanten geht sie mit erhobenem Kopf. So zart, daß sie den Fuß kaum aufsetzt. Ein unmerkliches Lächeln huscht wohl über ihr Gesicht.
Hier beginnt die Reise des leider sehr kurzen Buches, schwadroniert, ohne zu bramarbasieren, über die Möglichkeit von Glück und Traum, Hoffnung und Möglichkeiten eines Lebens jenseits von einzwängenden Normen: Nadja als Diminutivum von ‚nadjeshda‘ (Hoffnung), und in der Tat versteht sich der Surrealismus als ein Darüberhinaus und zumindest Trost in der Phantasterei, wenn es doch nichts mit Allem und dem Ganzen wird:
Ich werde nicht gegen ihre geheimnisvollsten und härtesten Pausen protestieren. Das hieße den Lauf der Welt aufhalten wollen zugunsten ich weiß nicht welcher illusorischen Macht, die sie über die Welt hätte. Das hieße leugnen, daß »zwar jeder besser sein will und besser zu sein glaubt als die Welt, in der er lebt, daß aber derjenige, der besser ist, dieselbe Welt nur besser ausdrückt als andere.« (Hegel)
Nadja von André Breton liest sich als Januskopf zwischen Theorie und Lyrik, Traum und Roman, zwischen Improvisation, windschiefer Komposition und geglückter Augenblickshaftigkeit eines Verlangens, durch den Text über die Worte hinaus in die symbolische Form des Alltags einzugreifen. In äußerster, nüchterner Verdichtung, Selbstbeobachtung und Vivisektion, beschreitet das Erzähl-Ich sein eigenes Paris, sein Verlangen, seine Angst. Es verarbeitet seine Trauer, dass von Nadja nur ein Moment, ein Abschied, eine Möglichkeit von Glück verblieben ist, also ein Gefühl wie eine Landschaft, die ihn tröstet und erinnert wie ein zeitloser, vor ihn sich ausbreitender, Sprache gewordener Traum.
Tatsächlich besitzt Nadja keinen wirklichen Plot. Breton bearbeitet das Symbolische als Imaginäres eines fortgesetzten Versuches, die Sprache über sich hinauswachsen zu lassen. Als solches gelesen (nicht als Roman) mag es Berge versetzen, die den Blick auf das funkelnd Ozeanische bislang verstellt haben.
February 11, 2023
the most manic of pixie girls <3
(i will post a full and detailed review very soon on my lovely instagram account, i still need a bit of time to gather my thoughts and put those last two braincells to work @ofbooksandart , and here, a link to the account mwah)
(i will post a full and detailed review very soon on my lovely instagram account, i still need a bit of time to gather my thoughts and put those last two braincells to work @ofbooksandart , and here, a link to the account mwah)
April 20, 2012
Finally got around to reading this cornerstone of surrealist lit, somewhat underwhelmed. Nadja's meaning for Breton is a little obscure but it seems to be embodied in sentiments like this:
This is great. The actual trajectory of Breton's relationship with Nadja, however, is somewhat less exciting. I like the endless wandering of the streets of Paris, less so Breton's self-importance, both in introducing all his notable friends earlier in the book, and in his dealings with (and musings about) Nadja later. Honestly, I'd rather hear Nadja's own account of Breton, and more importantly, of her inner life, rather than Breton's impressions of it.
Incidentally, Leona Camille Ghislain D. (yes, she was real, though this was apparently hotly debated at some point) does get an entry in Surrealist Women, but only to quote this book. Any other record of her thoughts (or of the apparent 20-or-so letters she wrote to Breton) are sadly yet unpublished.
Perhaps life needs to be deciphered like a cryptogram. Secret staircases, frames from which the paintings quickly slip aside and vanish (giving way to an archangel bearing a sword or to those who forever advance), buttons which must be indirectly pressed to make an entire room move sideways or vertically, or immediately change all its furnishings; we may imagine the mind's greatest adventure as journey of this sort to the paradise of pitfalls.
This is great. The actual trajectory of Breton's relationship with Nadja, however, is somewhat less exciting. I like the endless wandering of the streets of Paris, less so Breton's self-importance, both in introducing all his notable friends earlier in the book, and in his dealings with (and musings about) Nadja later. Honestly, I'd rather hear Nadja's own account of Breton, and more importantly, of her inner life, rather than Breton's impressions of it.
Incidentally, Leona Camille Ghislain D. (yes, she was real, though this was apparently hotly debated at some point) does get an entry in Surrealist Women, but only to quote this book. Any other record of her thoughts (or of the apparent 20-or-so letters she wrote to Breton) are sadly yet unpublished.
August 12, 2015
چندتا چیز!
یکی این که واقعا بعضی جاها خل میشدم انقدر که باورنکردنی بود برام که بعضی از این اتفاقا واقعا اتفاق افتادن! تو همین دنیای خودمون!!خیلی عالی بود.
بعد هم این که کتاب بعضی جاها مثل کتابهای معمایی میشد برام! همهی چیزا
همدیگه رو تکمیل میکردن و درنهایت هم عباس پژمان میگفت: در پایان فصل دوم مشخص خواهد شد!
بعد هم این که جوری که راجع به «زیبایی» حرف زده بود آخر کتاب،واقعا محشر بود! محشر!
خیلی خوب بود این کتاب.. و اصلا چاپ افقش رو نخونید! من اون رو داشتم و رفتم مال هرمس رو خریدم! بدون توضیحات مترجم، مجبور میشید برید داستان زندگی برتون و هنرمندایی که دوست داشتهشون و مانیفست سوررئال ها و فلسفه هگل و کلی چیز دیگه بخونید تا بفهمید این کتابو!واقعا خیلی لازم و خوبن توضیحات مترجم!
خلاصهکه «ایت وازامیزینگ!» و یکبار هم در سی و چند سالگی خواهم خواندش - اگر زنده باشم- و قبل از اون حتما خودم این چیزها که گفتم رو یه کم خواهم خوند!
یکی این که واقعا بعضی جاها خل میشدم انقدر که باورنکردنی بود برام که بعضی از این اتفاقا واقعا اتفاق افتادن! تو همین دنیای خودمون!!خیلی عالی بود.
بعد هم این که کتاب بعضی جاها مثل کتابهای معمایی میشد برام! همهی چیزا
همدیگه رو تکمیل میکردن و درنهایت هم عباس پژمان میگفت: در پایان فصل دوم مشخص خواهد شد!
بعد هم این که جوری که راجع به «زیبایی» حرف زده بود آخر کتاب،واقعا محشر بود! محشر!
خیلی خوب بود این کتاب.. و اصلا چاپ افقش رو نخونید! من اون رو داشتم و رفتم مال هرمس رو خریدم! بدون توضیحات مترجم، مجبور میشید برید داستان زندگی برتون و هنرمندایی که دوست داشتهشون و مانیفست سوررئال ها و فلسفه هگل و کلی چیز دیگه بخونید تا بفهمید این کتابو!واقعا خیلی لازم و خوبن توضیحات مترجم!
خلاصهکه «ایت وازامیزینگ!» و یکبار هم در سی و چند سالگی خواهم خواندش - اگر زنده باشم- و قبل از اون حتما خودم این چیزها که گفتم رو یه کم خواهم خوند!
December 15, 2020
This is a book that balances in-between fiction and non-fiction. A meditation on, among other things, Nadja - mysterious, unpredictable, unstable - an obsession he meets on the street. An unusual, Surrealist romance/person-observed follows.
There are many illustrations (44) in this book: photos, drawings, etc. No picture of Nadja here, but the text claims she was beautiful enough to make heads turn and have regular men in her life. This is the 1928 original, without the changes of 1963 reissue. The book was received well, but sales were slow at first.
She was a real person, and Nadja was her chosen-name. Financially insecure, about 24 when she met Breton. He was married and having another affair (his wife was *very* tolerant), so Nadja was not the object of his love/lust, more like an interest, a nearly-friend he had for a short while before her mental health fell off the edge (she spent the rest of her life in sanitariums, dying in 1941, never seeing the book written about her). The book does slightly reveal his guilt afterwards, and his thoughts on why he disliked sanitariums are included - they make things worse and restrict freedom.
The story starts in a way that it takes time for it to arrange itself and start the story finally (around the text near the third picture), but it's fun to read, like a little wild bar piano. The end is likewise a bit bouncy, but in a shorter way. Breton's opinions on certain authors, theatre and art appear, we also learn what kind of art he had at his home. The cultural world in Paris that was around him, in fact the whole Paris, comes near to you.
- I miss being in Paris sometimes, I do feel I need to go there again at some point....
- Both Breton and Nadja don't seem to like stable work much; certain levels of creativity are in both of them, and both sound like people who need to create and move around - walk around in the streets (of Paris) - to feel like themselves. He gives her some books to read. She draws him strange objects and creatures, some of the drawings appear here.
Her talks seems interesting at first, but I think the reader migth realise sooner than Breton that something isn't right in her mind. Breton does eventually start to feel exasperated with her, and starts avoiding her. At first he dates the days he saw her, but that ends soon. Before disappearing from sight, her comments on the art and objects at Breton's house are particularly striking (and scare Breton a bit).
And he doesn't really talk about how things end, though his guilt shines through, and his worry on how they'll treat her in the sanitariums from then on. Breton's post-Nadja love affair fuels his writings towards the end, but Nadja isn't far from his mind, though vanishing into a ghost-figure in the background. Is he different from what he was before he met her? Whatever: Nadja got her immortality through this book, whatever Breton's opinions and observations were.
There are many illustrations (44) in this book: photos, drawings, etc. No picture of Nadja here, but the text claims she was beautiful enough to make heads turn and have regular men in her life. This is the 1928 original, without the changes of 1963 reissue. The book was received well, but sales were slow at first.
She was a real person, and Nadja was her chosen-name. Financially insecure, about 24 when she met Breton. He was married and having another affair (his wife was *very* tolerant), so Nadja was not the object of his love/lust, more like an interest, a nearly-friend he had for a short while before her mental health fell off the edge (she spent the rest of her life in sanitariums, dying in 1941, never seeing the book written about her). The book does slightly reveal his guilt afterwards, and his thoughts on why he disliked sanitariums are included - they make things worse and restrict freedom.
The story starts in a way that it takes time for it to arrange itself and start the story finally (around the text near the third picture), but it's fun to read, like a little wild bar piano. The end is likewise a bit bouncy, but in a shorter way. Breton's opinions on certain authors, theatre and art appear, we also learn what kind of art he had at his home. The cultural world in Paris that was around him, in fact the whole Paris, comes near to you.
- I miss being in Paris sometimes, I do feel I need to go there again at some point....
- Both Breton and Nadja don't seem to like stable work much; certain levels of creativity are in both of them, and both sound like people who need to create and move around - walk around in the streets (of Paris) - to feel like themselves. He gives her some books to read. She draws him strange objects and creatures, some of the drawings appear here.
Her talks seems interesting at first, but I think the reader migth realise sooner than Breton that something isn't right in her mind. Breton does eventually start to feel exasperated with her, and starts avoiding her. At first he dates the days he saw her, but that ends soon. Before disappearing from sight, her comments on the art and objects at Breton's house are particularly striking (and scare Breton a bit).
And he doesn't really talk about how things end, though his guilt shines through, and his worry on how they'll treat her in the sanitariums from then on. Breton's post-Nadja love affair fuels his writings towards the end, but Nadja isn't far from his mind, though vanishing into a ghost-figure in the background. Is he different from what he was before he met her? Whatever: Nadja got her immortality through this book, whatever Breton's opinions and observations were.
May 29, 2017
Short review: Male wank fantasy about submissive woman couched in pretentious language.
Slightly less short review: This book fell completely flat and achieved nothing near my expectations for it. Breton spends the whole time wildly swinging from convoluted musings with no clear conclusions, to obsessively talking about Nadja worshipping him, or alternatively being annoyed by her behaviour or feeling uncomfortable to realise he isn't actually the centre of her world: 'I was also increasingly alarmed to find that, when even I left her, she was sucked back into the whirlwind of ordinary life continuing around her and eager to force her, among other concessions, to eat, to sleep.'
Some of Breton's musings were actually quite interesting, and the references to places and their history was interesting as well, but the constant inflated self-importance Breton displays just makes the book completely uninteresting. The way he sees Nadja (whether she's meant to be interpreted as real or not is beside the point) is pretty much the epitome of a male wank fantasy about worshipful submissive women, and I'm not interested in staying in a mind like that for very long.
Slightly less short review: This book fell completely flat and achieved nothing near my expectations for it. Breton spends the whole time wildly swinging from convoluted musings with no clear conclusions, to obsessively talking about Nadja worshipping him, or alternatively being annoyed by her behaviour or feeling uncomfortable to realise he isn't actually the centre of her world: 'I was also increasingly alarmed to find that, when even I left her, she was sucked back into the whirlwind of ordinary life continuing around her and eager to force her, among other concessions, to eat, to sleep.'
Some of Breton's musings were actually quite interesting, and the references to places and their history was interesting as well, but the constant inflated self-importance Breton displays just makes the book completely uninteresting. The way he sees Nadja (whether she's meant to be interpreted as real or not is beside the point) is pretty much the epitome of a male wank fantasy about worshipful submissive women, and I'm not interested in staying in a mind like that for very long.
November 24, 2018
Beauty will be CONVULSIVE or will not be at all.
I found this artful. It worked on a cloudy Friday, a holiday from work. Shorn of ambition and venturing out for a pint (or two) of Czech pilsner. A man of letters encounters a beguiling woman. Something like synchronicity develops, though with blurred edges that suggest a chemical imbalance.
This brief novel reaches out to other works, other authors. There are plenty of photographs and drawings from the mysterious Nadja. The capricious perforations denote the surrealist logic. Nadja is a lodestar in milieu where the masses froth and scream for prophets and assassins.
I found this artful. It worked on a cloudy Friday, a holiday from work. Shorn of ambition and venturing out for a pint (or two) of Czech pilsner. A man of letters encounters a beguiling woman. Something like synchronicity develops, though with blurred edges that suggest a chemical imbalance.
This brief novel reaches out to other works, other authors. There are plenty of photographs and drawings from the mysterious Nadja. The capricious perforations denote the surrealist logic. Nadja is a lodestar in milieu where the masses froth and scream for prophets and assassins.
September 10, 2025
Kitaba başlarken ne okuyacağımı değil ne okumayacağımı tahmin ediyordum, ama yanıldım. Uzak durduğum gerçeküstücülüğün uç beyi Andre Breton oturaklı bir gerçekçi metin yazmış. Evliyken bir ara beraber olduğu ve aşkı tattığı Nadja adını verdiği gizemli bir kadınla olan ilişkisini anlatıyor bu kısa kitapta. Ancak roman veya anı formatında değil, bir iç dökme metni şeklinde. Nöropsikiyatr olmasına rağmen psikiyatriden nefret eden, akılcı olan herşeye karşı duran ilginç bir kişilik A. Breton. Farklı bir okuma oldu benim için.
August 31, 2020
"Sen ki sevgi üstüne, biricik sevgi üstüne, o saçma ve geri alınamaz 'öyle ki ancak her imtihana dayanabilecekse var olabilir' cümlesini yazdığıma beni o kadar pişman ediyorsun..."
December 20, 2011
Breton’s ‘Nadja’ reads like a blog. Of course in 1928 blogs didn’t exist, so this rather thin tome which unfolds like a collage of mixed media must have erupted on the scene as avant garde vogue. Of surrealism, naturalmente.
Andre Breton, writing as Andre Breton, spends the first half of the novel meandering through the streets of Paris, posting photos of his favourite haunts, and namedropping par excellence. Of course, if this is read like a blog, then there no harm in the fact that his famous cronies are named, listed and blown up in width="40" height="100". There is also a soupcon of random musings on theatre, art and literature. Engaging, but nothing that will set the world on fire.
Then onto the scene charges Nadja. Here, great speculation arises in the literary world: is she a real person, is she a manifestation of Breton’s persona, perhaps she is not so much a person as a ‘state of mind’.
Can you say ‘Emperors new clothes’? The ruminations above are necessary to justify the mundane story of a married middle aged man embarking in an adulterous affair with a vulnerable younger woman who happens to be enthralled by his intellect and success as an author.
Now, as we are talking the French here, of course there are going to be some lavisious twists: after all is this not the language that gave us ‘menage a trois’? At one point Breton discloses that he has spent a whole afternoon talking to his wife about Nadja and further on, just before Nadja is committed to an insane asylum, she phones Breton’s wife and tells her that she is her only friend in the world. Civilized, eh?
Now, a great portion of Breton’s and Nadja’s encounters are spent talking, painting and walking about (with illustrations to back it all up). When I say talking, however, one mustn’t understand this to be a conversation of equals whereby two towering intellects are rationalised through a rhetoric of spiritual transcendence: oh no. Nadja’s most common contributions are ‘overdetailed accounts of scenes of her past life’ . As these details mount up, Breton appears to become more and more disenchanted with his ‘muse’, as if thought the brushstroke of quotidian events conveys a sense of ordinariness upon Nadja which he cannot tolerate.
What, then, is Nadja’s staying power? Breton states ‘ As for her, I know in every sense of the word, she takes me for a god, She thinks of me as the Sun.’ Nadja also happens to read his Manifesto and other writings in awe. Surrealism or not, at the end of the day its Breton basking in his own glory as reflected in the eyes of his naive young lover, who probably doesn’t know any better than to idolise without understanding (hence the motif of mysterious, inexplicable artistic creation). Case closed.
Andre Breton, writing as Andre Breton, spends the first half of the novel meandering through the streets of Paris, posting photos of his favourite haunts, and namedropping par excellence. Of course, if this is read like a blog, then there no harm in the fact that his famous cronies are named, listed and blown up in width="40" height="100". There is also a soupcon of random musings on theatre, art and literature. Engaging, but nothing that will set the world on fire.
Then onto the scene charges Nadja. Here, great speculation arises in the literary world: is she a real person, is she a manifestation of Breton’s persona, perhaps she is not so much a person as a ‘state of mind’.
Can you say ‘Emperors new clothes’? The ruminations above are necessary to justify the mundane story of a married middle aged man embarking in an adulterous affair with a vulnerable younger woman who happens to be enthralled by his intellect and success as an author.
Now, as we are talking the French here, of course there are going to be some lavisious twists: after all is this not the language that gave us ‘menage a trois’? At one point Breton discloses that he has spent a whole afternoon talking to his wife about Nadja and further on, just before Nadja is committed to an insane asylum, she phones Breton’s wife and tells her that she is her only friend in the world. Civilized, eh?
Now, a great portion of Breton’s and Nadja’s encounters are spent talking, painting and walking about (with illustrations to back it all up). When I say talking, however, one mustn’t understand this to be a conversation of equals whereby two towering intellects are rationalised through a rhetoric of spiritual transcendence: oh no. Nadja’s most common contributions are ‘overdetailed accounts of scenes of her past life’ . As these details mount up, Breton appears to become more and more disenchanted with his ‘muse’, as if thought the brushstroke of quotidian events conveys a sense of ordinariness upon Nadja which he cannot tolerate.
What, then, is Nadja’s staying power? Breton states ‘ As for her, I know in every sense of the word, she takes me for a god, She thinks of me as the Sun.’ Nadja also happens to read his Manifesto and other writings in awe. Surrealism or not, at the end of the day its Breton basking in his own glory as reflected in the eyes of his naive young lover, who probably doesn’t know any better than to idolise without understanding (hence the motif of mysterious, inexplicable artistic creation). Case closed.
June 29, 2025
Andre Breton's "Nadja" is one of my all time favorite books. I think the main reason is that the city of Paris becomes a character in the novel. Or is it even a novel? It reads like a travel diary under the influence of Opium.
I like how Breton eroticises Paris, and the images that are through out the book are priceless.
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As of 2025, I also read the new translation of Breton's Nadja published by the NYRB. It's excellent, and I haven't had a chance to compare to the older translation published by New Directions from the 1960s. Saying that, it's hard to deal with numerous translations on Good Reads. It is either that one or no other - so I want to be clear that in 2025, I read the new translation published by NYRB.
I like how Breton eroticises Paris, and the images that are through out the book are priceless.
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As of 2025, I also read the new translation of Breton's Nadja published by the NYRB. It's excellent, and I haven't had a chance to compare to the older translation published by New Directions from the 1960s. Saying that, it's hard to deal with numerous translations on Good Reads. It is either that one or no other - so I want to be clear that in 2025, I read the new translation published by NYRB.
December 18, 2017
Andre Breton incorporates some of my favorite things into a love story: fortune tellers, random footnotes, prison abolition, psychologically questionable doodles, and interesting nicknames.
September 20, 2016
من از خوندن كتاب ناديا لذت نبردم (به جز چند خطش مثلا) ولى متوجهم كه اثر مهميه و راه رو مثلا براى آثار ديگه باز كرده. فضل تقدم داره و اينها، كارى ندارم. اما مطمئن نيستم جز اين چيز ديگرى در چنته داشته باشه. به نظرم كل كتاب يه برهانه، و در دفاع از رويكردش و نگاهش به ادبيات نوشته شده. فكر نمى كنم واقعا يك رمان مستقل و مجزا باشه. اول كتاب مياد در مورد شيوه ش حرف مى زنه. مى گه من اول اتفاقات مهم زندگى مو مى گم كه خوب متوجه چيزايى كه تعريف مى كنم بشيد. و چه اعتقاد سفتى هم داره به اينكه دونستن از زندگى نويسنده درك از اثرشو عميقتر و بهتر مى كنه. البته موقعى كه برتون اينو مى نوشته هنوز مرگ مولف مطرح نبوده ولى ديگه اين تاكيدى ام كه اين بزرگوار مى كنه ادبياتو تبديل به عرصه خاله بازى و دورهمى مى كنه. يك جاى ديگه مى گه من مى خوام اثرم ضد ادبى باشه و مثلا با اين تاكيدش مى خواد اون حقيقتى كه با وجود اين ضد ادبيات بودن خودشو بروز مى ده رو پررنگتر كنه. بعد راههايى كه براى ضد ابيات كردن استفاده مى كنه يكى خوددارى از توصيف كردنه، و به جاش عكس مى ذاره، و دوم استفاده از زبان و ادبيات غير ادبى و مشابه به گزارش هاى پزشكيه. اين براى من خيلى دلسردكننده ست. حس مى كنم جنبشى كه مى خواد راه بندازه يه چيز سطحيه كه گنده ش كرده ند. به چه اعتبارى شباهت به گزارش هاى پزشكى يه اثرو از ادبيات بودن درمياره يا مثلا چه فرقى داره توصيف كنى يا عكس بذارى. كى به تعريف ادبيات و ادبى رسيدى كه حالا ضدش رو با اين ابتذال مطرح مى كنى. من بيش از هرچيزى ميل به تمايزو توش مى تونم تشخيص بدم، نه يه چيزى كه بتونه انقلاب ادبى باشه.
و نهايتا هم به اين شيوه هاى خودش پايبند نمى مونه و يك جاهاى كتابش (كه اتفاقا فرازهاى بدى هم نيست) ميفته تو انشا نوشتن. ناديا كتابيه كه پر از خاطره و مونولوگه، اينجور چيزا هم بيشتر براى خود اون فرد جالب اند و براى بقيه اونقد جالب نيستن (مطمئنا برتون خودشيفته بوده چون وقتى از خودش حرف مى زنه كاملا از دستش در مى ره و نمى تونه برآورد درستى از اهميت واقعى چيزايى كه مى گه داشته باشه). از جايى كه ناديا وارد داستان مى شه هم فرق چندانى نمى كنه و كمى شاعرانگى اضافه مى شه بهش. مثلا مى گه ناديا يه جورى برتون رو صدا مى كنه انگار تو اتاقاى خالى يه قصر داره دنبالش مى گرده. هر از گاهى هم يك سرى حكمت مى گه. مجموع اين عوامل ناديارو تبديل به كتابى ملال آور كرده كه به سختى مى شه ازش لذت برد.
ولى اگه مى خوايد بخونيد، ترجمه كاوه ميرعباسى ترجمه خيلى خوبيه. من به فرانسه خوندم ولي اين ترجمه رو كنار دستم داشتم و بهش رجوع مى كردم. خيلى خوب دراورده.
و نهايتا هم به اين شيوه هاى خودش پايبند نمى مونه و يك جاهاى كتابش (كه اتفاقا فرازهاى بدى هم نيست) ميفته تو انشا نوشتن. ناديا كتابيه كه پر از خاطره و مونولوگه، اينجور چيزا هم بيشتر براى خود اون فرد جالب اند و براى بقيه اونقد جالب نيستن (مطمئنا برتون خودشيفته بوده چون وقتى از خودش حرف مى زنه كاملا از دستش در مى ره و نمى تونه برآورد درستى از اهميت واقعى چيزايى كه مى گه داشته باشه). از جايى كه ناديا وارد داستان مى شه هم فرق چندانى نمى كنه و كمى شاعرانگى اضافه مى شه بهش. مثلا مى گه ناديا يه جورى برتون رو صدا مى كنه انگار تو اتاقاى خالى يه قصر داره دنبالش مى گرده. هر از گاهى هم يك سرى حكمت مى گه. مجموع اين عوامل ناديارو تبديل به كتابى ملال آور كرده كه به سختى مى شه ازش لذت برد.
ولى اگه مى خوايد بخونيد، ترجمه كاوه ميرعباسى ترجمه خيلى خوبيه. من به فرانسه خوندم ولي اين ترجمه رو كنار دستم داشتم و بهش رجوع مى كردم. خيلى خوب دراورده.
November 8, 2017
One of the keystones of modern French literature. I see that some fellow Goodreader's take fault with it not being surreal 'enough.' What the fuck does that even mean? Is it great beyond all proportion? Yes. Then who gives a rat's asphalted asshole what 'school' it belongs to? That's like hating Curtis Mayfield for not being Glenn Danzig: it makes no goddamn sense, especially as both are lower-case geniuses. Labels: protecting you from poison since 'whenever-the-shit' AD.
Also bear in mind the continuum. How early does this fall on Surrealisms? 'Pretty, pretty early,' says Larry David.
My second reading of this, the first half my life ago, leaves me with three takeaways:
< My favorite graphic novel (it has associative pictures that correspond to the text, hence 'graphic' novel not comic book BAMZINGZOW!)
< Even better 20-years later, as I came to it with a far greater contextual understanding of...pretty much everything.
< Still never printed in hardcover in the Queen's tongue. Certainly one of humanity's greatest crimes, right behind consigning the first three Grand Funk Railroad records to obscurity in favor of "We're An American Band" and "Some Kind of Wonderful." That's not MY Mark, Mel, and Don!*
(*May this ever be the only written text to ever draw comparisons between Breton and Grand Funk, in this Your name I pray...)
Also bear in mind the continuum. How early does this fall on Surrealisms? 'Pretty, pretty early,' says Larry David.
My second reading of this, the first half my life ago, leaves me with three takeaways:
< My favorite graphic novel (it has associative pictures that correspond to the text, hence 'graphic' novel not comic book BAMZINGZOW!)
< Even better 20-years later, as I came to it with a far greater contextual understanding of...pretty much everything.
< Still never printed in hardcover in the Queen's tongue. Certainly one of humanity's greatest crimes, right behind consigning the first three Grand Funk Railroad records to obscurity in favor of "We're An American Band" and "Some Kind of Wonderful." That's not MY Mark, Mel, and Don!*
(*May this ever be the only written text to ever draw comparisons between Breton and Grand Funk, in this Your name I pray...)
December 17, 2023
Je suis Jep Gambardella
Come spesso capita le letture che scegliamo di fare derivano da citazioni o rimandi da altri libri, film, spettacoli. E quindi, con un lag temporale molto largo, perché poi ci perdiamo nelle mille diramazioni dei sentieri di lettura, arrivo a Nadja di Breton dalla Grande Bellezza di Sorrentino. Nel film Nadja è Ramona, l’unica che riesce a risvegliare una qualche passione in Jep Gambardella.
Jep Gambardella / Toni Servillo, La Grande Bellezza
Questo di Breton è un libro ostico: senza nessuna trama, è un collage di flussi di pensiero e aneddoti, in parte in forma di diario, pieno di foto e disegni, richiami ad opere e artisti spesso poco conosciuti ai non addetti, intessuto di riflessioni sulla forma e funzione del romanzo e sulla psicologia-psichiatria discipline allora nascenti.
Un libro che possiamo leggere, più superficialmente, come un amore nato da uno sguardo tra passanti per le vie di Parigi. E come non innamorarsi di Nadja, il cui nome russo è l’inizio della parola speranza - e non è che l’inizio. Nadja l’anima errante, spirito libero dell’aria, impossibile da sottomettere. Nadja accende una fiamma che brucia negli occhi, i suoi e quelli dell’amante, la fine del suo respiro è l’inizio di quello dell'altro, insieme proiettati così lontano dalla terra si scambiano vedute incredibilmente concordi sopra le macerie fumose dei vecchi pensieri e della sempiterna vita. Nadja che sarà cancellata e di cui forse rimarrà una traccia nell’amante, tornato dall’altra, quella con cui fuggiva a Les Aubes, quella che scioglie l’enigma, quella che è bellezza convulsa.
Il fiore degli amanti, disegno di Nadja.
Ed è un libro che possiamo leggere ad uno strato più profondo, come testo surrealista, ovvero come insieme di oggetti e simboli che, posti in uno spazio reale/irreale e in un ordine/disordine, come in un quadro di De Chirico, ci svelano una dimensione altra sovvertendo il reale - e l’ordine sociale, rendendoci possibilmente consapevoli di chi siamo, come viviamo, che posto occupiamo. Forse scoprire che Nadja è la nostra anima. Il libro si apre non a caso con questo interrogativo, che è lo stesso che si pone Jep Gambardella nel film. Chi sono, io? …chi frequento, chi infesto. E poi ancora: «Chi vive?» Chi vive? Sei tu, Nadja? E’ vero che l‘“al di là”, tutto l’al di là è in questa vita? Non ti sento. Chi vive? Sono io solo? Sono io?
Disegno di Nadja, Chi è Lei?. In una scena, l’abito di Ramona-Ferilli è identico a quello di questo disegno.
Come spesso capita le letture che scegliamo di fare derivano da citazioni o rimandi da altri libri, film, spettacoli. E quindi, con un lag temporale molto largo, perché poi ci perdiamo nelle mille diramazioni dei sentieri di lettura, arrivo a Nadja di Breton dalla Grande Bellezza di Sorrentino. Nel film Nadja è Ramona, l’unica che riesce a risvegliare una qualche passione in Jep Gambardella.
Jep Gambardella / Toni Servillo, La Grande Bellezza
Questo di Breton è un libro ostico: senza nessuna trama, è un collage di flussi di pensiero e aneddoti, in parte in forma di diario, pieno di foto e disegni, richiami ad opere e artisti spesso poco conosciuti ai non addetti, intessuto di riflessioni sulla forma e funzione del romanzo e sulla psicologia-psichiatria discipline allora nascenti.
Un libro che possiamo leggere, più superficialmente, come un amore nato da uno sguardo tra passanti per le vie di Parigi. E come non innamorarsi di Nadja, il cui nome russo è l’inizio della parola speranza - e non è che l’inizio. Nadja l’anima errante, spirito libero dell’aria, impossibile da sottomettere. Nadja accende una fiamma che brucia negli occhi, i suoi e quelli dell’amante, la fine del suo respiro è l’inizio di quello dell'altro, insieme proiettati così lontano dalla terra si scambiano vedute incredibilmente concordi sopra le macerie fumose dei vecchi pensieri e della sempiterna vita. Nadja che sarà cancellata e di cui forse rimarrà una traccia nell’amante, tornato dall’altra, quella con cui fuggiva a Les Aubes, quella che scioglie l’enigma, quella che è bellezza convulsa.
Il fiore degli amanti, disegno di Nadja.
Ed è un libro che possiamo leggere ad uno strato più profondo, come testo surrealista, ovvero come insieme di oggetti e simboli che, posti in uno spazio reale/irreale e in un ordine/disordine, come in un quadro di De Chirico, ci svelano una dimensione altra sovvertendo il reale - e l’ordine sociale, rendendoci possibilmente consapevoli di chi siamo, come viviamo, che posto occupiamo. Forse scoprire che Nadja è la nostra anima. Il libro si apre non a caso con questo interrogativo, che è lo stesso che si pone Jep Gambardella nel film. Chi sono, io? …chi frequento, chi infesto. E poi ancora: «Chi vive?» Chi vive? Sei tu, Nadja? E’ vero che l‘“al di là”, tutto l’al di là è in questa vita? Non ti sento. Chi vive? Sono io solo? Sono io?
Disegno di Nadja, Chi è Lei?. In una scena, l’abito di Ramona-Ferilli è identico a quello di questo disegno.
October 16, 2014
More a treatise on how to be ghostly than anything else, Nadja is Andre Breton’s highly wrought elaboration of his brief relationship with a mysterious (possibly mad?) young woman. For those with a taste for, or an interest in, coincidences (as I am), this book can be highly intoxicating and actually mind altering, meaning it can have a direct effect on how and what you see as you go about your days and nights walking around (preferably through a city with “atmosphere”). This intoxication is a result of most of the book occurring within Breton’s mind, with Nadja and Paris (& a few surrealists) making occasional cameo appearances, so reading this book is akin to walking around within the highly charged and receptive ionic cloud that Breton intentionally made of his mind.
I demote it one star for Breton’s sometimes annoying oracular tone.
I demote it one star for Breton’s sometimes annoying oracular tone.
August 14, 2023
“She is benediction
She is addicted to thee
She is the root connection
She is connecting with he”
Dancing Barefoot - Patti Smith
Frida Khalo, Two Nudes in a Forest (1939)
Mysterious creatures, women-angels, sinful demons, dolls and finally objects of desire, women have always been an impossible enigma in the history of art and literature, and since history in the past has been written by men, the solution to this enigma is the result of exhausted representations from a masculine point of view. Femininity made its way into religion with the Italian movement of the Stilnovists, with Dante’s Paradiso portraying Beatrice as one of the three Graces before God; but religion also hid the female body and turned women into a contradiction: it was essential to protect them due to their weakness and helplessness, but their body was far from being something to be proud of. It was sinful, disgusting. On the contrary, male virility is glorified throughout Europe, and that is testified by many of the statues and paintings belonging to the Renaissance movement. The need to objectify women eventually led men to consider eroticism as another solution to the enigma. Surrealism, however, makes women part of this, and the woman mutates from her eternal role as wife and mother to become a source of revelations, dreams, and freedom.
Not that such representations were devoid of fetishization. This can be attributed, partly, to the interest Surrealist artists had in Freud's psychoanalytic theories. Soon after publishing the manifesto of the Surrealist movement, André Breton gave women the opportunity to externalize their own reflections about the female experience, and the womanhood enigma became an issue that was primarily for women to resolve. Sexuality is investigated through the works of Dali, in Invisible Sleeping Woman, Horse, Lion (1930), in Frida Kahlo with Two Nudes in a Forest (1939) - although, to be precise, Frida Kahlo wrote that she did not consider herself a Surrealist, because she was just painting "her own reality" - or through Leonor Fini with Chthonian Deity Watching over the Sleep of a Young Man (1946). Women refuse to be called muses, as Leonora Carrington writes: "I didn't have time to be anyone's muse... I was too busy rebelling [...] and learning to be an artist."
Female collaboration, however, fails to satisfy men enough, otherwise we would never have had Nadja. Let's take a step back. Although it has fallen into disuse in medicine, I have always found it very odd how the term "hysteria" came from the Latin word "uterus." An in-depth analysis of so-called "female madness" was performed by Freud in his early works (take the case of Anna O. as an example). Breton's Nadja sees hands and faces that others do not, and the protagonist is fascinated, other times frightened, and ultimately disinterested. The camera capturing images contained in Paul Regnard and Désiré Bourneville's Iconographie Photographique de La Salpêtrière are for male readers to have a record about attractive half-dressed women caught in the act of a hysterical attack and to give them an additional fetish, while some female readers are terrified by them, though for others they become a model to imitate in order to nurture the male gaze. In other words, it became possible to find beauty in illness.
Breton praised "youthful hysterics" to a point where hysteria can be considered in all effects a supreme means of expression. In Nadja, Breton notoriously wrote “Beauty will be CONVULSIVE or will not be at all”, suggesting that an hysterical attack occurs in a state of sexualized, uninhibited passion. Nadja is not a love story: it is the story of an obsession.
“...with the end of my breath, which is the beginning of yours.”
Congratulations to Nadja for having the best opening line and ending line to ever exist. "Who am I?" writes the author at the beginning. There are no interruptions in this book, except for a blank space that splits the narration into two parts, the first being a philosophical treatise in which Breton talks about the feeling of making little to no impact to other people’s lives, as he grows convinced that they will never recognise him as a person. Inevitably, he is unable to interact with them. This first part is absolutely phenomenal in the use of words, but it makes it difficult - in my humble opinion - to understand what is really going on inside his head. He describes his life in Paris, and several events that happened to him while living there and his relationship with the French poet Rimbaud, that allows him to engage in other people’s businesses. Then, the second section covers Breton’s half-true personal account with a woman named Nadja. They have casual meetings, until the protagonist begins to lack interest in her. Nadja’s destiny is in an asylum. Breton questions himself: what if that happens to me? He has internalized Nadja’s ideas and craziness, and does not even dare to inquire about what may have happened to her and regrets encouraging her to follow the path of extreme freedom. Finally, Breton encourages the reader to goodness.
“Nadja” means “hope”. In reality, this woman’s real name is Léona Delcourt, born in 1902 in Lille, and she tried to survive in Paris by reselling small amounts of cocaine. If you possess old editions of Nadja chances are that you have seen the drawings of the real woman behind the character. Since the very first edition, Delcourt’s works were inserted in the book. Since we are talking about Surrealism in art here, her drawings married perfectly the movement, but if Breton understood Léona’s creativity, the same can’t be said about the doctors who hospitalized her: her diagnosis was something like neoplastic cachexia. She died in the hospital slightly after her meetings with the author in 1941, in a period that saw hospitalization and pharmaceutical aids minimized. To this day, we don’t know if Breton ever visited her, but we know that he followed Nadja’s treatments through some of his letters.
A magical flower stands out among these drawings: Nadja calls it "la fleur des amants," and, designing its petals as if they were pairs of gazes, she repurposes it in many of her works as a seal of her love.
Léona's drawings
“…It would be hateful to refuse whatever she asks of me, one way or another, for she is so pure, so free of any earthly tie, and cares so little, but so marvelously, for life.”
Let women define themselves. Through art we are able to do that continuously and what is interesting about Surrealism is the variety of themes and meanings behind its works. Nadja is a great short novel, but I needed a week to figure it out. Nadja is intriguing, confusing and bittersweet. Not only do we come to terms with Léona’s strange personality, but we encounter a new type of André Breton. Not the poet, nor the intellectual and not even the inventor of automatic writing: here Breton tells his story like he never did. A kind reminder that behind those works of art hides a human being.
In general, male surrealists depicted women as faceless and distorted beings. Breton solves the enigma of womanhood by showing off a free and unaffordable being. Terrifying but erotic, women were ultimately a source of inspiration. But then again, I think it’s important to look at the many surrealist women who represented themselves instead. They were strong and beautiful creatures who rejected conformity. Via female artists, the representation of women in art shifted from faceless creatures to child-like beings inhabiting magical dream environments. Female artists' highest role in Surrealism is in sexual emancipation and validation of their own self images. Whoever Léona was, I believe she, too, had a role in all of this.
4.25/5
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