The Four Spent the Day Together is populated with individuals pursuing fresh starts, struggling to escape substance abuse or toxic relationships, only to find hope curdling into violence. Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "fresh start", rendering it willfully cynical through recurring use. Sentences like "He could make a fresh start" and "They decided to make a fresh start" recur in the narrative. Meanwhile, Kraus herself appears to be undertaking her own fresh start, because this presents as a different type of work – fact-based, truly literary. But then it turns out to be laden with the same dilemmas and aesthetics as past novels.
Chris Kraus was originally an visual artist who became a writer almost accidentally with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, which was composed of missives to a distant beloved, converting confessional female writing from abjection into rebellion. She kept producing books, but the next trio of engaging and challenging novels did not possess the shock and immediacy that the epistolary style imparted to the narrative voice of I Love Dick. This was not aided by was her identity as a renegade artist who had turned into a extensive real estate holder, so there was significant attention on property transactions. It makes sense that she now wants to try out fresh narrative sources, turning outward to the experiences of others, at a moment when she asserts that contemporary political climate renders personal narrative obsolete.
The Four Spent the Day Together is divided into three sections, encompassing several time periods – none able to break free from their histories. The book includes the tale of characters Emma and Jasper, based on the author's parents, transitioning from the New York borough to the Connecticut countryside. Then there is the narrative of the author, in the character of Catt Greene, reckoning with the delayed acclaim of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her partner struggling with addiction her husband Paul. Finally the account of a killing of one troubled youth by another in a locality largely deserted by liberal ideals only a brief drive from the protagonist's home in rural Minnesota.
From my perspective as a reader drawn to refined literature of the kind Kraus often avoids, I was captivated by the literary tone of the opening part.
Being a reader who favors crafted language of the kind that the author tends to eschew, I was seduced by the literary tone of the first section. It possesses a novel degree of detail that allows space for minutiae, like the bucket that the protagonist as a child dislodges from ice at the opening of the book, assisted by her cherished parent. "I found an ice toy!" she exclaims; "a nice toy", he answers, "the nuanced interpretations of terms rolling around in their mouths like hard candy". She tells Emma's story with inquiry and familiarity. "Emma experienced a dreamlike sensation – not entirely her own."
I was fated to feel let down when I expected this new voice could last out the book. Kraus says here that she resents the satisfaction audiences such as myself have taken from I Love Dick; she's devoted to disruption, to the unpolished style she has in common with her hero Kathy Acker, and the emptiness and redundancy of her past books returns in the second segment. Catt Greene is trying to renovate 36 run-down apartments in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while shuttling between Minnesota and LA, failing to help Paul curb his addiction. She experiences powerlessness as her spouse transitions between underfunded jobs as an addiction therapist in a society fueled by the rage and anxiety that powers a political win. A significant portion discusses about the protagonist facing cancellation on social media, her listed profession modified from "writer" to "real estate holder" on the online encyclopedia. Kraus still seems to be overly concerned about this. At one point she states that she's researching the homicide so that before leaving Minnesota, "she might be able to learn something about an the nation that her online critics would fail to comprehend, would not even perceive".
Thus we arrive to the actual killing – and the eponymous day spent by the murdered individual with the killer and his associates. The author possesses great source material, and knows hour by hour what happened when the victim Brandon came to meet Brittney after encountering her on a platform where she marketed explicit images. He anticipated intimacy but seems affably to have spent the day alongside her friends, wandering about fixing his automobile and paying for snacks and drugs, before being murdered by Brittney's partner Micah – a individual with mental health challenges who has repeatedly received inpatient care for violent rage.
Catt gets obsessed by the account, and I found myself captivated by the way that the author's conflicting impulses towards ethical reporting and audacious rule-breaking wrestle in this part. However, I would have preferred her to explore more thoroughly her own obsessions here. The compelling persona is Brittney, who gains dimension partly through the protagonist's connection to her – yet another intelligent, harassed young woman going off the rails in a difficult, overlooked locality. The author informs us that Catt speaks to Brittney in prison, but she fails to enact these dialogues. The whole section feels strangely incomplete, to the point that her narrative ends almost mid-par
Elara Vance is a seasoned business analyst with over a decade of experience covering international markets and industrial transformations.