The new book centers on characters chasing after clean slates, attempting to leave behind substance abuse or toxic relationships, only to witness hope devolve into violence. Kraus often employs the phrase "fresh start", rendering it deliberately jaded through constant reiteration. Phrases such as "He was ready for a new beginning" and "They opted for a clean break" appear throughout the narrative. Meanwhile, she seems to be making her own fresh start, since this presents as a different type of work – documentarian, genuinely novelistic. But then it proves to be filled with the familiar conflicts and aesthetics as past novels.
Chris Kraus began as an creative who entered the literary world somewhat by chance with her 1997 seminal work I Love Dick, made up of missives to a distant beloved, transforming personal female narrative from abjection into defiance. She persisted as a writer, but the following three fascinating and rebarbative novels did not possess the power and directness that the letter form imparted to the tone of I Love Dick. This was not aided by was her role as a nonconformist creator who had turned into a large-scale low-rent landlord, so there was much discussion on housing investments. It makes sense that she presently aims to explore new kinds of material, directing her gaze to the experiences of others, at a time when she asserts that Trumpian politics renders personal narrative unnecessary.
The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, covering multiple eras – each trapped by their backgrounds. We encounter the tale of characters Emma and Jasper, based on the author's parents, transitioning from the New York borough to a pastoral setting. Then there is the story of Kraus herself, in the character of a figure named Catt Greene, confronting the belated success of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her partner struggling with addiction a man named Paul. Finally the narrative of a homicide of one troubled youth by another in a town long abandoned by forward-thinking policies only a short distance from the protagonist's home in rural Minnesota.
For this reader fond of refined literature of the type the author herself often avoids, I was seduced by the narrative style of the opening part.
As a reader who appreciates precise prose of the kind that Kraus often disregards, I was won over by the literary tone of the initial part. There is a fresh level of observation that allows space for small details, like the container that the youthful Catt pries out of frozen water at the opening of the book, aided by her beloved father. "I discovered a frozen plaything!" she exclaims; "a great plaything", he replies, "the elliptical meanings of words circulating in their speech like sweet treats". She tells the tale of Emma with inquiry and familiarity. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream – not entirely her own."
I was bound to become frustrated when I hoped this new voice could last out the book. Kraus says here that she is annoyed by the enjoyment audiences such as myself have derived from I Love Dick; she's devoted to disjunction, to the messy artistic approach she echoes from her hero writer Kathy Acker, and the void and recurrence of her past books reasserts itself in the central part. Catt Greene is working on refurbishing 36 run-down apartments in the most troubled areas of Albuquerque while moving between the Midwest and the West Coast, unable to aid her husband curb his addiction. She feels helpless as Paul cycles through underfunded jobs as an substance abuse counselor in a society propelled by the hostility and dread that drives an electoral success. Multiple pages are devoted about Catt's social media ostracism on social media, her occupation changed from "novelist" to "real estate holder" on Wikipedia. She still gives the impression to invest excessive emotion about this. On one occasion she states that she's looking into the killing so that before exiting the region, "she could potentially understand something about an the nation that her Twitter detractors would be unable to grasp, would not even perceive".
Thus we arrive to the murder itself – and the referenced day passed by the victim with the murderer and his friends. Kraus has excellent raw material, and details moment by moment what transpired when Brandon came to meet Brittney after connecting via an application where she sold sex pictures. He was hoping for sex but seems affably to have spent the day alongside her friends, loitering having his vehicle repaired and covering the cost of food and substances, before being shot by Brittney's partner Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has repeatedly received inpatient care for fits of anger.
Catt gets obsessed by the account, and I was intrigued by the way that her twin drives towards accurate chronicling and audacious rule-breaking tussle in this section. Yet I wished her to explore more thoroughly her own obsessions here. The standout figure is Brittney herself, who becomes vivid partially because of the protagonist's connection to her – a similarly gifted, tormented individual spiraling out of control in a difficult, overlooked locality. The author informs us that Catt converses with Brittney in prison, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. This entire part feels strangely incomplete, to the point that the author's storytelling ends almost mid-par