The Four Spent the Day Together is populated with protagonists seeking new beginnings, struggling to escape substance abuse or harmful partnerships, only to witness hope devolve into aggression. Chris Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "fresh start", making it intentionally weary through its repetitions. Examples include "He aimed to start over" and "They opted for a clean break" recur in the story. And yet, Kraus herself appears to be undertaking her individual reinvention, since this seems a novel form of writing – fact-based, truly literary. Yet it proves to be filled with the recurring issues and styles as earlier books.
From Accidental Writer to Renowned Book
Chris Kraus began as an visual artist who transitioned to writing unintentionally with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, which was composed of missives to a distant beloved, converting confessional female writing from self-debasement into rebellion. She kept producing books, but the three subsequent fascinating and rebarbative novels did not possess the power and directness that the correspondence format brought to the narrative voice of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her identity as a maverick maker who had become a extensive real estate holder, so there was much discussion on housing investments. It makes sense that she now wants to try out fresh narrative sources, directing her gaze to the experiences of others, at a moment when she claims that contemporary political climate turns intimate literature redundant.
Multiple Generations, Collective Unavoidable Background
The Four Spent the Day Together is structured in three parts, covering several time periods – none able to break free from their histories. There is the story of Emma and Jasper, based on the author's parents, relocating from the New York borough to rural Connecticut. Then there is the narrative of the author, in the character of Catt Greene, confronting the late recognition of I Love Dick, the ascent of a political figure, and her partner struggling with addiction a man named Paul. The third thread involves the account of a killing of one troubled youth by another in a town largely deserted by progressive politics only a brief drive from the protagonist's home in the Minnesota countryside.
For this reader drawn to refined literature of the kind Kraus typically rejects, I was captivated by the narrative style of the opening part.
As someone who reads who favors crafted language of the kind that the author often disregards, I was captivated by the novelistic voice of the opening segment. It exhibits a fresh level of observation that makes room for minutiae, like the pail that the youthful Catt pries out of frozen water at the opening of the book, helped by her cherished parent. "I found an ice toy!" she declares; "a nice toy", he responds, "the ambiguous meanings of language rolling around in their mouths like piece candy". She tells the tale of Emma with interest and closeness. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream – not hers, exactly."
Disappointment and Disjunction
I was bound to become frustrated when I expected this different style could persist to the end. The author states here that she is annoyed by the pleasure audiences such as myself have gotten from I Love Dick; she's devoted to disjunction, to the unpolished style she shares with her idol Kathy Acker, and the emptiness and redundancy of her past books comes back in the middle section. Catt Greene is trying to renovate multiple decrepit residences in the city's most challenging districts while shuttling between the Midwest and the West Coast, unsuccessful in assisting her husband curb his addiction. She feels helpless as Paul transitions between underfunded jobs as an recovery specialist in a environment fueled by the rage and anxiety that underpins a political win. A significant portion discusses about the protagonist facing cancellation on a platform, her professional designation altered from "author" to "property owner" on a reference site. Kraus still seems to invest excessive emotion about this. On one occasion she says that she's investigating the murder so that before departing the state, "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
Thus we arrive to the homicide in question – and the titular day spent by the victim with the murderer and his friends. Kraus utilizes excellent raw material, and knows hour by hour what happened when a man named Brandon came to visit Brittney after connecting via an application where she marketed explicit images. He was hoping for sex but seems affably to have spent the day with her companions, loitering having his vehicle repaired and covering the cost of food and substances, before being murdered by Brittney's boyfriend Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has repeatedly received inpatient care for fits of anger.
Fascination and Incompletion
Catt gets obsessed by the account, and I was fascinated by the way that her twin drives towards ethical reporting and reckless transgression clash in this segment. But I'd have liked her to delve deeper into her personal fixations here. The standout figure is Brittney herself, who comes alive partially because of Catt seeing herself in her – another bright, bullied girl derailing in a difficult, overlooked locality. Kraus notes that Catt speaks to Brittney in prison, but she omits the dramatization of these talks. This entire part feels strangely incomplete, to the extent that her narrative ends almost mid-par
