The Four Spent the Day Together is populated with individuals pursuing new beginnings, trying to break free from addictions or toxic relationships, only to see hope turn into conflict. Chris Kraus often employs the phrase "clean slate", rendering it deliberately jaded through its repetitions. Sentences like "He could make a fresh start" and "They chose to begin anew" are scattered across the text. And yet, Kraus herself appears to be undertaking her individual reinvention, since this appears a new kind of book – observational, genuinely novelistic. Yet it turns out to be filled with the same dilemmas and styles as past novels.
From Unplanned Author to Renowned Book
Chris Kraus began as an artist who transitioned to writing somewhat by chance with her 1997 groundbreaking book I Love Dick, made up of missives to a distant beloved, converting personal female narrative from abjection into rebellion. She continued writing, but the following three engaging and challenging novels lacked the impact and rawness that the correspondence format imparted to the narrative voice of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her position as a nonconformist creator who had turned into a major property owner, so there was much discussion on housing investments. It makes sense that she now wants to try out fresh narrative sources, turning outward to external narratives, at a moment when she asserts that contemporary political climate makes confessional writing obsolete.
Multiple Generations, Shared Inescapable History
The Four Spent the Day Together is structured in three parts, covering multiple eras – none able to break free from their backgrounds. We encounter the story of Emma and Jasper, versions of Kraus's parents, moving from the New York borough to the Connecticut countryside. There is the narrative of the author, in the guise of Catt Greene, grappling with the late recognition of I Love Dick, the emergence of Trump, and her substance-dependent spouse Paul. The third thread involves the story of the murder of one lost young man by another in a community largely deserted by liberal ideals only a short distance from Catt's cottage in the Minnesota countryside.
From my perspective as a reader fond of honed writing of the type Kraus tends to eschew, I was enchanted by the novelistic voice of the opening part.
As someone who reads drawn to honed writing of the style that Kraus herself tends to eschew, I was captivated by the novelistic voice of the initial part. It possesses a new quality of attentiveness that allows space for small details, like the pail that the young Catt frees from the ice at the beginning of the narrative, assisted by her cherished parent. "I found an ice toy!" she says; "a nice toy", he answers, "the nuanced interpretations of terms circulating in their speech like piece candy". She tells the tale of Emma with inquiry and familiarity. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream – not precisely her dream."
Disappointment and Disjunction
I was bound to become frustrated when I hoped this fresh tone could last out the book. The author states here that she resents the satisfaction audiences such as myself have gotten from I Love Dick; she's devoted to disjunction, to the untidy aesthetics she shares with her hero Kathy Acker, and the void and recurrence of her past books comes back in the second segment. Catt Greene is working on refurbishing three dozen dilapidated units in the most troubled areas of Albuquerque while shuttling between two different states, unsuccessful in assisting her husband control his drinking. She is overwhelmed as Paul cycles through underfunded jobs as an recovery specialist in a environment fueled by the rage and anxiety that powers Trump's victory. There are several pages about Catt's social media ostracism on a platform, her occupation changed from "author" to "property owner" on the online encyclopedia. She still gives the impression to be overly concerned about this. On one occasion she says that she's looking into the killing so that before exiting the region, "she might be able to learn something about an America that her Twitter detractors would fail to comprehend, would not even see".
The Homicide Account
Then we reach to the murder itself – and the referenced day experienced by the murdered individual with the killer and his companions. Kraus has great source material, and reconstructs step by step what happened when a man named Brandon came to visit Brittney after encountering her on a platform where she sold sex pictures. He sought a sexual encounter but appears congenially to have passed the day alongside her friends, mooching around having his vehicle repaired and funding treats and narcotics, before being murdered by Brittney's partner a man named Micah – a youth with psychological issues who has frequently been hospitalised for fits of anger.
Preoccupation and Open Ends
Catt develops an obsession by the account, and I was intrigued by the way that Kraus's dual urges towards responsible documentation and reckless transgression tussle in this section. However, I would have preferred her to explore more thoroughly her own obsessions here. The compelling persona is the character Brittney, who gains dimension in part due to Catt's identification with her – another bright, bullied girl spiraling out of control in a troubled, forgotten town. Kraus tells us that the protagonist communicates with Brittney in prison, but she fails to enact these dialogues. The complete segment feels oddly unfinished, to the extent that the author's storytelling ends almost mid-par
