The Four Spent the Day Together is populated with characters pursuing new beginnings, struggling to escape substance abuse or harmful partnerships, only to find hope curdling into conflict. The author repeatedly invokes the phrase "fresh start", rendering it deliberately jaded through its repetitions. Phrases such as "He was ready for a new beginning" and "They decided to make a fresh start" are scattered across the narrative. At the same time, she appears to be undertaking her personal new beginning, since this seems a different type of work – fact-based, authentically narrative. Yet it proves to be filled with the same dilemmas and approaches as past novels.
From Unplanned Author to Renowned Book
Chris Kraus started out as an visual artist who entered the literary world almost accidentally with her 1997 groundbreaking book I Love Dick, which was composed of epistles to an unresponsive love interest, elevating confessional female writing from abjection into defiance. She persisted as a writer, but the next trio of compelling and abrasive novels lacked the power and directness that the correspondence format infused into the tone of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her identity as a renegade artist who had turned into a extensive real estate holder, so there was much discussion on property transactions. It is logical that she presently aims to explore different types of content, turning outward to the experiences of others, at a time when she claims that Trumpian politics renders personal narrative unnecessary.
Several Eras, Shared Inescapable History
The Four Spent the Day Together is divided into three sections, spanning three generations – all unable to escape their pasts. We encounter the story of Emma and Jasper, based on the author's parents, moving from the urban environment to the Connecticut countryside. There is the account of Kraus, in the character of Catt Greene, confronting the late recognition of I Love Dick, the ascent of a political figure, and her addict husband a man named Paul. The third thread involves the account of a killing of one lost young man by another in a community mostly forsaken by progressive politics only a short distance from the protagonist's home in the Minnesota countryside.
From my perspective as a reader attracted to honed writing of the kind Kraus herself tends to eschew, I was seduced by the narrative style of the opening part.
As someone who reads who appreciates honed writing of the style that Kraus herself often disregards, I was seduced by the literary tone of the opening segment. It possesses a new quality of attentiveness that accommodates trivial aspects, like the container that the young Catt dislodges from ice at the start of the story, aided by her cherished parent. "Look, an ice toy!" she says; "a lovely toy", he answers, "the ambiguous meanings of language circulating in their speech like sweet treats". The author narrates Emma's story with curiosity and intimacy. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream – not hers, exactly."
Letdown and Fragmentation
I was destined to be disappointed when I hoped this fresh tone could last out the book. Kraus says here that she resents the enjoyment those who appreciate polished prose have derived from I Love Dick; she's dedicated to disjunction, to the messy artistic approach she echoes from her idol author Kathy Acker, and the void and recurrence of her earlier works returns in the middle section. The protagonist is trying to renovate three dozen dilapidated units in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while traveling between two different states, unsuccessful in assisting her husband curb his addiction. She experiences powerlessness as Paul moves between low-resource employment as an recovery specialist in a world propelled by the rage and anxiety that drives an electoral success. Multiple pages are devoted about the protagonist facing cancellation on a platform, her occupation changed from "author" to "property owner" on Wikipedia. Kraus still seems to be overly concerned about this. On one occasion she says that she's investigating the murder so that before exiting the region, "she may grasp something about an America that her online critics would not understand, would not even perceive".
The Murder Narrative
Then we reach to the homicide in question – and the referenced day experienced by the deceased with the perpetrator and his friends. The author possesses excellent raw material, and reconstructs step by step what transpired when Brandon came to meet Brittney after meeting her on an app where she sold sex pictures. He was hoping for sex but seems affably to have spent the day alongside her friends, mooching around getting his car mended and funding treats and narcotics, before being killed by gunfire by her romantic interest Micah – a individual with mental health challenges who has repeatedly received inpatient care for violent rage.
Preoccupation and Open Ends
Catt develops an obsession by the account, and I was fascinated by the way that the author's conflicting impulses towards accurate chronicling and reckless transgression wrestle in this part. However, I would have preferred her to explore more thoroughly her personal fixations here. The standout figure is Brittney, who becomes vivid in part due to the protagonist's connection to her – yet another intelligent, harassed young woman spiraling out of control in a struggling, neglected community. Kraus tells us that Catt converses with Brittney in prison, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. This entire part feels strangely incomplete, to the point that her narrative ends almost mid-par
