Surprised by the Deliciousness of Air: A Second Person Review of Réka Nyitrai’s Conjoined Works Split Split and Game of Little Deaths by Jonathan Cardew

You think there’s something almost kinky about Nyitrai’s two works in one, a book you have to physically flip if you want to read the other. Two works lying in bed together, toe to nose.

The middle of the book, a sort of portal, contains the following instruction: 

YOU HAVE REACHED 

THE END

FLIP THE BOOK

UPSIDE DOWN

AND BEGIN AGAIN

And you do. The instruction is prosaic: there are two books, Split Split starting on one side, and Game of Little Deaths starting on the other. And you understand that when words are upside down, you need to flip the book. But you also understand that words are slippery, with double edges, and wrong turns, and especially these two married works do all they can to upend meaning. (Meaning and logic being something you thought you were good at.)

What about this uncanny categorization from Split Split: 

I’m getting up from the bed. (sun)

The change I want to make is laced up with knotted string. (drought)

And what about the simplicity of lists? This list especially grabs you (and there are more lists to be had in both works):

THE ITEMS WE WANT 

1. A laughing airplane
2. Birds in the cloud
3. Space between wires
4. Cracked glass

You understand that the world is full of things that don’t make sense and, indeed, the best things seem to be the ones that don’t. You are also aware that language is a way to crack open unsolvables, and this is what Nyitrai’s fragmentary works do so well. You are delighted by the language she uses in both flipped works and the way she weaves personal history with the histories of artist, Unica Zurn, the photographer, Francesca Woodman, and the doll maker, Hans Bellmer. 

Hans: Sure I’m the extension of my mother’s blonde loneliness. 

Reka: When I curl up like a fetus and cry, I hear the ghosts swaying and rustling.

Unica: My wish list is forever buried in the leaves.

Francesca: I also wanted to be the shoe of the wind.

You are a fan of surrealism, and this is surrealism on a different plane. You like the almost jovial, conversational tone in Nyitrai’s two works—not highbrow surrealism at all. Orgasmic surrealism? Maybe, that’s it. What doesn’t feel better than surprise—surprising phrases, surprising juxtapositions. She ends one of your favorite poems with this notion, and you’ll end your review on this too: 

I held my breath. When I inhaled, I was surprised by the deliciousness of air. 

Read more about the book here: https://www.neonpajamas.com/pizama-press/rka-nyitrai-split-game-of-little-deaths