The Four Spent the Day Together is populated with individuals chasing after clean slates, trying to break free from substance abuse or toxic relationships, only to see hope turn into aggression. Chris Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "fresh start", rendering it intentionally weary through constant reiteration. Examples include "He aimed to start over" and "They chose to begin anew" appear throughout the story. At the same time, she appears to be undertaking her own fresh start, since this presents as a novel form of writing – fact-based, genuinely novelistic. But then it reveals itself to be laden with the familiar conflicts and approaches as earlier books.
Kraus was originally an artist who became a writer somewhat by chance with her 1997 seminal work I Love Dick, made up of missives to a distant beloved, converting intimate women's literature from humiliation into rebellion. She continued writing, but the three subsequent compelling and abrasive novels missed the power and directness that the letter form imparted to the tone of I Love Dick. This was not aided by was her identity as a nonconformist creator who had evolved into a major property owner, so there was significant attention on housing investments. It is logical that she currently desires to experiment with fresh narrative sources, directing her gaze to external narratives, at a time when she claims that Trumpian politics turns intimate literature unnecessary.
The Four Spent the Day Together is divided into three sections, spanning three generations – all unable to escape their histories. The book includes the narrative about Emma and Jasper, versions of Kraus's parents, transitioning from the Bronx to a pastoral setting. Then there is the story of Kraus herself, in the persona of Catt Greene, grappling with the late recognition of I Love Dick, the ascent of a political figure, and her partner struggling with addiction her husband Paul. And there is the story of the murder of one directionless individual by another in a town mostly forsaken by liberal ideals only a short distance from Catt's rural residence in rural Minnesota.
As a reader drawn to honed writing of the sort the author herself tends to eschew, I was seduced by the literary tone of the first section.
As someone who reads drawn to crafted language of the kind that Kraus herself usually avoids, I was seduced by the literary tone of the initial part. It possesses a new quality of attentiveness that makes room for small details, like the pail that the young Catt dislodges from ice at the start of the story, aided by her adored dad. "Look, an ice toy!" she exclaims; "a nice toy", he responds, "the elliptical meanings of words circulating in their speech like piece candy". The author narrates the tale of Emma with inquiry and familiarity. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream – not entirely her own."
I was fated to feel let down when I hoped this different style could last out the book. The author states here that she dislikes the satisfaction audiences such as myself have gotten from I Love Dick; she's dedicated to fragmentation, to the untidy aesthetics she has in common with her idol author Kathy Acker, and the void and recurrence of her earlier works comes back in the middle section. Catt is trying to renovate 36 run-down apartments in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while traveling between Minnesota and LA, unable to aid Paul manage his alcohol use. She feels helpless as her spouse transitions between low-resource employment as an recovery specialist in a world fueled by the anger and fear that drives a political win. There are several pages about Catt's social media ostracism on Twitter, her listed profession modified from "author" to "property owner" on Wikipedia. She still gives the impression to be overly concerned about this. At one point she remarks that she's investigating the murder so that before departing the state, "she may grasp something about an America that her Twitter detractors would be unable to grasp, would overlook entirely".
Then we reach to the actual killing – and the eponymous day spent by the murdered individual with the murderer and his associates. The author possesses great source material, and reconstructs step by step what transpired when the victim Brandon came to visit Brittney after meeting her on an app where she marketed explicit images. He sought a sexual encounter but seems affably to have spent the day with her companions, mooching around having his vehicle repaired and covering the cost of food and substances, before being killed by gunfire by her romantic interest a man named Micah – a youth with psychological issues who has frequently been hospitalised for fits of anger.
Catt gets obsessed by the story, and I found myself captivated by the way that Kraus's dual urges towards ethical reporting and daring boundary-pushing wrestle in this part. However, I would have preferred her to delve deeper into her personal fixations here. The compelling persona is Brittney, who gains dimension in part due to Catt's identification with her – a similarly gifted, tormented individual going off the rails in a troubled, forgotten town. Kraus tells us that the protagonist communicates with Brittney in prison, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. The complete segment feels strangely incomplete, to the point that her narrative ends almost mid-par
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