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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:

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 Any other record of her thoughts (or of the apparent 20-or-so letters she wrote to Breton) are sadly yet unpublished.