The Four Spent the Day Together features individuals seeking clean slates, attempting to leave behind substance abuse or abusive marriages, only to witness hope devolve into violence. Kraus frequently uses the phrase "clean slate", transforming it into willfully cynical through its repetitions. Sentences like "He was ready for a new beginning" and "They opted for a clean break" are scattered across the story. And yet, she appears to be undertaking her individual reinvention, because this appears a different type of work – fact-based, genuinely novelistic. But then it reveals itself to be packed with the recurring issues and approaches as her previous works.
From Accidental Writer to Cult Classic
Chris Kraus began as an creative who transitioned to writing somewhat by chance with her 1997 seminal work I Love Dick, which was composed of letters to an unreceptive lover, converting intimate women's literature from humiliation into rebellion. She kept producing books, but the next trio of compelling and abrasive novels lacked the power and directness that the epistolary style brought to the voice of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her identity as a nonconformist creator who had evolved into a large-scale low-rent landlord, so there was much discussion on housing investments. It makes sense that she now wants to explore fresh narrative sources, looking outwards to other people's stories, at a period in which she states that current political era turns intimate literature unnecessary.
Three Generations, Shared Inescapable History
The Four Spent the Day Together is divided into three sections, encompassing multiple eras – each trapped by their histories. There is the narrative about Emma and Jasper, versions of the author'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, confronting the delayed acclaim of I Love Dick, the ascent of a political figure, and her partner struggling with addiction a man named Paul. And there is the account of a killing of one directionless individual by another in a town long abandoned by forward-thinking policies only a brief drive from the protagonist's home in a remote part of Minnesota.
For this reader drawn to honed writing of the kind Kraus herself often avoids, I was seduced by the narrative style of the initial segment.
As someone who reads who favors crafted language of the variety that Kraus herself tends to eschew, I was won over by the literary tone of the initial part. It exhibits a new quality of attentiveness that accommodates minutiae, like the bucket that the youthful Catt frees from the ice at the beginning of the narrative, aided by her adored dad. "I discovered a frozen plaything!" she says; "a nice toy", he responds, "the ambiguous meanings of language tumbling in their mouths like sweet treats". The author narrates the tale of Emma with curiosity and intimacy. "It seemed to Emma she had entered a dream – not entirely her own."
Disappointment and Disjunction
I was destined to be disappointed when I hoped this new voice could last out the book. Kraus says here that she resents the enjoyment readers like me have derived from I Love Dick; she's committed to disjunction, to the messy artistic approach she echoes from her idol author Kathy Acker, and the blankness and repetitiveness of her past books returns in the central part. Catt is working on refurbishing multiple decrepit residences in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while shuttling between the Midwest and the West Coast, failing to help Paul curb his addiction. She experiences powerlessness as Paul cycles through poorly supported positions as an addiction therapist in a society propelled by the rage and anxiety that powers a political win. There are several pages about the protagonist facing cancellation on social media, her occupation changed from "author" to "property owner" on a reference site. She still gives the impression to invest excessive emotion about this. At one point she says that she's researching the homicide so that before exiting the region, "she could potentially understand something about an America that her social media opponents would be unable to grasp, would not even perceive".
The Murder Narrative
Then we reach to the homicide in question – and the referenced day spent by the victim with the perpetrator and his associates. Kraus has great source material, and knows hour by hour what occurred as the victim Brandon came to meet Brittney after connecting via an application where she sold sex pictures. He sought a sexual encounter but appears congenially to have passed the day alongside her friends, wandering about getting his car mended and covering the cost of food and substances, before being murdered by her romantic interest a man named Micah – a individual with mental health challenges who has often been institutionalized for fits of anger.
Obsession and Unfinished Business
The protagonist becomes fixated by the account, and I was fascinated by the way that her twin drives towards accurate chronicling and audacious rule-breaking wrestle in this part. However, I would have preferred her to go further into her personal fixations here. The compelling persona is Brittney, who comes alive in part due to Catt's identification with her – yet another intelligent, harassed young woman spiraling out of control in a troubled, forgotten town. The author informs us that Catt converses with Brittney in jail, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. This entire part feels curiously unresolved, to the extent that her narrative ends almost mid-par
