The Four Spent the Day Together is populated with protagonists seeking new beginnings, attempting to leave behind drugs or abusive marriages, only to see hope turn into violence. Chris Kraus often employs the phrase "fresh start", rendering it intentionally weary through its repetitions. Examples include "He was ready for a new beginning" and "They opted for a clean break" appear throughout the text. Meanwhile, the author herself appears to be undertaking her personal new beginning, as this seems a different type of work – documentarian, truly literary. However it reveals itself to be packed with the recurring issues and approaches as earlier books.
Chris Kraus began as an creative who became a writer almost accidentally with her 1997 seminal work I Love Dick, which was composed of epistles to an unresponsive love interest, converting intimate women's literature from abjection into assassination. She kept producing books, but the next trio of compelling and abrasive novels lacked the shock and immediacy that the correspondence format imparted to the narrative voice of I Love Dick. This was not aided by was her identity as a maverick maker who had evolved into a major property owner, so there was much discussion on real estate deals. It makes sense that she presently aims to explore different types of content, looking outwards to the experiences of others, at a moment when she asserts that contemporary political climate renders personal narrative unnecessary.
The Four Spent the Day Together is divided into three sections, encompassing several time periods – all unable to escape their histories. We encounter the narrative about a couple named Emma and Jasper, representations of her own mother and father, moving from the New York borough to a pastoral setting. Additionally the account of Kraus, in the guise of Catt Greene, grappling with the belated success of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her substance-dependent spouse Paul. And there is the account of a killing of one directionless individual by another in a locality largely deserted by liberal ideals only a brief drive from the protagonist's home in rural Minnesota.
As a reader attracted to polished prose of the type Kraus herself typically rejects, I was seduced by the literary tone of the opening part.
As someone who reads who appreciates crafted language of the kind that the author tends to eschew, I was won over by the literary tone of the initial part. It exhibits a new quality of attentiveness that allows space for minutiae, like the bucket that the youthful Catt dislodges from ice at the beginning of the narrative, aided by her adored dad. "I discovered a frozen plaything!" she says; "a great plaything", he responds, "the elliptical meanings of words tumbling in their mouths like piece candy". Kraus writes the tale of Emma with curiosity and intimacy. "It seemed to Emma she had entered a dream – not hers, exactly."
I was bound to become frustrated when I hoped this new voice could last out the book. Kraus notes here that she dislikes the pleasure audiences such as myself have gotten from I Love Dick; she's dedicated to disjunction, to the messy artistic approach she echoes from her idol writer Kathy Acker, and the emptiness and redundancy of her earlier works reasserts itself in the second segment. Catt Greene is working on refurbishing three dozen dilapidated units in the city's most challenging districts while shuttling between two different states, unable to aid Paul control his drinking. She is overwhelmed as Paul cycles through underfunded jobs as an substance abuse counselor in a society fueled by the hostility and dread that drives a political win. There are several pages about Catt's social media ostracism on Twitter, her professional designation altered from "writer" to "landlord" on the online encyclopedia. She still gives the impression to invest excessive emotion about this. At one point she remarks that she's investigating the murder so that before departing the state, "she could potentially understand something about an the United States that her Twitter detractors would fail to comprehend, would not even perceive".
Then we reach to the homicide in question – and the eponymous day passed by the deceased with the perpetrator and his friends. The author possesses great source material, and knows hour by hour what occurred as a man named Brandon came to visit Brittney after meeting her on an app where she marketed explicit images. He anticipated intimacy but appears congenially to have passed the day in the company of her associates, mooching around getting his car mended and covering the cost of food and substances, before being shot by Brittney's boyfriend Micah – a individual with mental health challenges who has frequently been hospitalised for fits of anger.
Catt gets obsessed by the story, and I found myself captivated by the way that her twin drives towards ethical reporting and audacious rule-breaking clash in this segment. However, I would have preferred her to go further into her own obsessions here. The standout figure is Brittney herself, who becomes vivid partly through Catt seeing herself in her – a similarly gifted, tormented individual derailing in a difficult, overlooked locality. Kraus notes that Catt converses with Brittney in jail, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. This entire part feels strangely incomplete, to the degree that Kraus's narration ends almost mid-par
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