The Four Spent the Day Together features characters pursuing new beginnings, trying to break free from substance abuse or harmful partnerships, only to witness hope devolve into violence. Chris Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "new beginning", rendering it willfully cynical through recurring use. Sentences like "He was ready for a new beginning" and "They chose to begin anew" are scattered across the text. And yet, Kraus herself seems to be making her own fresh start, since this appears a novel form of writing – documentarian, authentically narrative. Yet it turns out to be filled with the same dilemmas and approaches as earlier books.
From Accidental Writer to Iconic Work
Chris Kraus started out as an artist who entered the literary world somewhat by chance with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, made up of missives to a distant beloved, elevating personal female narrative from humiliation into rebellion. She continued writing, but the three subsequent compelling and abrasive novels missed the impact and rawness that the correspondence format imparted to the tone of I Love Dick. It didn't help was her identity as a nonconformist creator who had evolved into a large-scale low-rent landlord, so there was considerable focus on real estate deals. It is logical that she currently desires to experiment with fresh narrative sources, directing her gaze to other people's stories, at a moment when she asserts that contemporary political climate renders personal narrative unnecessary.
Several Eras, Collective Unavoidable Background
The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, spanning multiple eras – none able to break free from their backgrounds. We encounter the story of a couple named Emma and Jasper, representations of the author's parents, moving from the urban environment to a pastoral setting. Additionally the story of Kraus herself, in the character of a figure named Catt Greene, confronting the belated success of I Love Dick, the emergence of Trump, and her partner struggling with addiction her husband Paul. The third thread involves the account of a killing of one directionless individual by another in a community long abandoned by forward-thinking policies only 80 miles from the protagonist's home in rural Minnesota.
As a reader drawn to honed writing of the type the author herself often avoids, I was captivated by the literary tone of the opening part.
As someone who reads who favors crafted language of the style that Kraus often disregards, I was won over by the novelistic voice of the initial part. There is a new quality of attentiveness that makes room for minutiae, like the pail that the protagonist as a child dislodges from ice at the start of the story, aided by her beloved father. "I found an ice toy!" she says; "a lovely toy", he responds, "the nuanced interpretations of terms tumbling in their mouths like sweet treats". The author narrates Emma's narrative with interest and closeness. "Emma experienced a dreamlike sensation – not entirely her own."
Disappointment and Disjunction
I was bound to become frustrated when I expected this different style could persist to the end. Kraus notes here that she is annoyed by the satisfaction audiences such as myself have derived from I Love Dick; she's committed to disjunction, to the unpolished style she echoes from her inspiration writer Kathy Acker, and the blankness and repetitiveness of her earlier works returns in the middle section. Catt is trying to renovate three dozen dilapidated units in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while moving between Minnesota and LA, unsuccessful in assisting Paul manage his alcohol use. She experiences powerlessness as her spouse moves between low-resource employment as an substance abuse counselor in a world driven by the anger and fear that drives an electoral success. There are several pages about the protagonist facing cancellation on social media, her professional designation altered from "novelist" to "landlord" on Wikipedia. The author still appears to be overly concerned about this. At one point she remarks that she's researching the homicide so that before departing the state, "she might be able to learn something about an America that her social media opponents would not understand, would overlook entirely".
The Homicide Account
Then we reach to the actual killing – and the eponymous day passed by the murdered individual with the killer and his companions. Kraus utilizes compelling foundational content, and reconstructs step by step what transpired when Brandon came to see Brittney after meeting her on an app where she offered adult photos. He sought a sexual encounter but seems amiably to have occupied the day in the company of her associates, mooching around getting his car mended and funding treats and narcotics, before being murdered by her romantic interest a man named Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has often been institutionalized for violent rage.
Fascination and Incompletion
Catt develops an obsession by the narrative, and I found myself captivated by the way that the author's conflicting impulses towards ethical reporting and daring boundary-pushing wrestle in this part. However, I would have preferred her to delve deeper into her individual preoccupations here. The most interesting character is the character Brittney, who gains dimension partly through the protagonist's connection to her – yet another intelligent, harassed young woman derailing in a struggling, neglected community. Kraus notes that Catt speaks to Brittney in jail, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. This entire part feels curiously unresolved, to the degree that the author's storytelling ends almost mid-par
