The Four Spent the Day Together is populated with characters chasing after fresh starts, trying to break free from addictions or toxic relationships, only to find hope curdling into aggression. Chris Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "fresh start", rendering it intentionally weary through its repetitions. Sentences like "He could make a fresh start" and "They opted for a clean break" recur in the story. Meanwhile, the author herself is embarking on her own fresh start, as this appears a novel form of writing – documentarian, genuinely novelistic. However it reveals itself to be packed with the same dilemmas and approaches as her previous works.
From Accidental Writer to Cult Classic
Kraus started out as an visual artist who transitioned to writing almost accidentally with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, structured as epistles to an unresponsive love interest, transforming confessional female writing from self-debasement into rebellion. She kept producing books, but the following three compelling and abrasive novels missed the shock and immediacy that the epistolary style brought to the voice of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her role as a renegade artist who had become a large-scale low-rent landlord, so there was considerable focus on housing investments. It makes sense that she presently aims to try out new kinds of material, turning outward to the experiences of others, at a period in which she claims that contemporary political climate makes confessional writing unnecessary.
Multiple Generations, Shared Inescapable History
The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, covering several time periods – none able to break free from their backgrounds. There is the narrative about a couple named Emma and Jasper, versions of Kraus's parents, moving from the New York borough to rural Connecticut. There is the narrative of the author, in the guise of protagonist Catt Greene, reckoning with the late recognition of I Love Dick, the emergence of Trump, and her partner struggling with addiction a man named Paul. Finally the narrative of a homicide of one directionless individual by another in a community largely deserted by progressive politics only a short distance from the protagonist's home in the Minnesota countryside.
For this reader attracted to honed writing of the type Kraus tends to eschew, I was seduced by the novelistic voice of the initial segment.
Being a reader who favors precise prose of the kind that Kraus herself tends to eschew, I was captivated by the storytelling approach of the opening segment. It possesses a novel degree of detail that accommodates minutiae, like the bucket that the young Catt frees from the ice at the start of the story, assisted by her adored dad. "Look, an ice toy!" she exclaims; "a great plaything", he replies, "the nuanced interpretations of terms tumbling in their mouths like piece candy". Kraus writes Emma's narrative with inquiry and familiarity. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream – not entirely her own."
Disappointment and Disjunction
I was bound to become frustrated when I hoped this different style could continue through the novel. Kraus notes here that she resents the enjoyment audiences such as myself have derived from I Love Dick; she's committed to disjunction, to the messy artistic approach she shares with her idol author Kathy Acker, and the blankness and repetitiveness of her past books reasserts itself in the middle section. Catt is attempting to do up 36 run-down apartments in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while shuttling between Minnesota and LA, unable to aid Paul curb his addiction. She is overwhelmed as her spouse cycles through low-resource employment as an recovery specialist in a society driven by the anger and fear that powers Trump's victory. A significant portion discusses about the protagonist facing cancellation on social media, her occupation changed from "author" to "property owner" on a reference site. The author still appears to be overly concerned about this. At one point she remarks that she's investigating the murder so that before departing the state, "she could potentially understand something about an the nation that her social media opponents would not understand, would not even perceive".
The Homicide Account
So then we come to the actual killing – and the titular day passed by the victim with the perpetrator and his companions. Kraus has excellent raw material, and details moment by moment what occurred as a man named Brandon came to visit Brittney after connecting via an application where she offered adult photos. He sought a sexual encounter but seems affably to have spent the day in the company of her associates, mooching around having his vehicle repaired and paying for snacks and drugs, before being killed by gunfire by Brittney's boyfriend Micah – a youth with psychological issues who has repeatedly received inpatient care for violent rage.
Preoccupation and Open Ends
Catt develops an obsession by the story, and I was intrigued by the way that Kraus's dual urges towards responsible documentation and daring boundary-pushing clash in this segment. Yet I wished her to delve deeper into her individual preoccupations here. The standout figure is the character Brittney, who becomes vivid partially because of the protagonist's connection to her – yet another intelligent, harassed young woman going off the rails in a troubled, forgotten town. Kraus tells us that Catt converses with Brittney in detention, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. The complete segment feels oddly unfinished, to the point that her narrative ends almost mid-par
