The Four Spent the Day Together is populated with protagonists chasing after new beginnings, trying to break free from substance abuse or harmful partnerships, only to see hope turn into aggression. Chris Kraus frequently uses the phrase "fresh start", transforming it into deliberately jaded through constant reiteration. Examples include "He could make a fresh start" and "They decided to make a fresh start" recur in the text. And yet, Kraus herself is embarking on her personal new beginning, as this seems a novel form of writing – observational, truly literary. But then it proves to be filled with the recurring issues and approaches as past novels.
Kraus was originally an artist who became a writer almost accidentally with her 1997 seminal work I Love Dick, made up of epistles to an unresponsive love interest, transforming intimate women's literature from humiliation into defiance. She kept producing books, but the next trio of compelling and abrasive novels did not possess the impact and rawness that the epistolary style imparted to the tone of I Love Dick. It didn't help was her role as a maverick maker who had evolved into a extensive real estate holder, so there was considerable focus on real estate deals. It follows that she now wants to explore fresh narrative sources, directing her gaze to other people's stories, at a moment when she claims that Trumpian politics turns intimate literature obsolete.
The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, covering three generations – each trapped by their pasts. We encounter the tale of Emma and Jasper, based on her own mother and father, transitioning from the urban environment to rural Connecticut. There is the narrative of the author, in the persona of protagonist Catt Greene, reckoning with the delayed acclaim of I Love Dick, the emergence of Trump, and her partner struggling with addiction Paul. The third thread involves the account of a killing of one lost young man by another in a community long abandoned by liberal ideals only a short distance from the protagonist's home in rural Minnesota.
As a reader fond of refined literature of the kind Kraus herself tends to eschew, I was captivated by the novelistic voice of the opening part.
As a reader who appreciates precise prose of the kind that the author usually avoids, I was captivated by the literary tone of the initial part. It possesses a fresh level of observation that accommodates small details, like the bucket that the youthful Catt frees from the ice at the beginning of the narrative, assisted by her adored dad. "I discovered a frozen plaything!" she says; "a great plaything", he responds, "the nuanced interpretations of terms tumbling in their mouths like sweet treats". The author narrates the tale of Emma with inquiry and familiarity. "It seemed to Emma she had entered a dream – not hers, exactly."
I was destined to be disappointed when I wished this different style could continue through the novel. Kraus notes here that she resents the pleasure those who appreciate polished prose have gotten from I Love Dick; she's committed to disjunction, to the unpolished style she echoes from her hero writer Kathy Acker, and the emptiness and redundancy of her past books comes back in the second segment. The protagonist is working on refurbishing 36 run-down apartments in the city's most challenging districts while shuttling between Minnesota and LA, unable to aid Paul manage his alcohol use. She experiences powerlessness as Paul moves between low-resource employment as an substance abuse counselor in a society fueled by the rage and anxiety that drives a political win. Multiple pages are devoted about Catt's social media ostracism on a platform, her occupation changed from "writer" to "property owner" on Wikipedia. The author still appears to care a little too much about this. On one occasion she remarks that she's researching the homicide so that before exiting the region, "she may grasp something about an the nation that her online critics would fail to comprehend, would overlook entirely".
Thus we arrive to the actual killing – and the eponymous day passed by the deceased with the murderer and his companions. Kraus utilizes excellent raw material, and reconstructs step by step what happened when the victim Brandon came to meet Brittney after connecting via an application where she offered adult photos. He was hoping for sex but seems amiably to have occupied the day alongside her friends, loitering fixing his automobile and paying for snacks and drugs, before being killed by gunfire by Brittney's partner a man named Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has often been institutionalized for aggressive outbursts.
Catt gets obsessed by the account, and I was intrigued by the way that Kraus's dual urges towards ethical reporting and audacious rule-breaking tussle in this section. Yet I wished her to go further into her individual preoccupations here. The most interesting character is Brittney herself, who becomes vivid in part due to Catt's identification with her – a similarly gifted, tormented individual spiraling out of control in a troubled, forgotten town. Kraus tells us that Catt converses with Brittney in detention, but she fails to enact these dialogues. This entire part feels oddly unfinished, to the degree that her narrative ends almost mid-par
Lena is a tech journalist based in Zurich, specializing in digital transformation and startup ecosystems across Europe.