The new book centers on characters pursuing clean slates, trying to break free from substance abuse or abusive marriages, only to find hope curdling into violence. Chris Kraus frequently uses the phrase "new beginning", rendering it deliberately jaded through constant reiteration. Phrases such as "He could make a fresh start" and "They opted for a clean break" recur in the narrative. Meanwhile, Kraus herself is embarking on her own fresh start, as this presents as a novel form of writing – documentarian, authentically narrative. But then it turns out to be filled with the same dilemmas and styles as her previous works.
Chris Kraus started out as an creative who transitioned to writing almost accidentally with her 1997 groundbreaking book I Love Dick, made up of missives to a distant beloved, elevating intimate women's literature from self-debasement into assassination. She continued writing, but the three subsequent compelling and abrasive novels lacked the shock and immediacy that the letter form brought to the tone of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her role as a renegade artist who had become a large-scale low-rent landlord, so there was much discussion on real estate deals. It is logical that she presently aims to explore different types of content, directing her gaze to other people's stories, at a moment when she states that contemporary political climate turns intimate literature obsolete.
The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, encompassing several time periods – each trapped by their backgrounds. There is the tale of a couple named Emma and Jasper, versions of the author's parents, relocating from the urban environment to rural Connecticut. Additionally the account of Kraus, in the character of a figure named Catt Greene, reckoning with the belated success of I Love Dick, the emergence of Trump, and her addict husband a man named Paul. And there is the story of the murder of one directionless individual by another in a community long abandoned by progressive politics only a short distance from Catt's cottage in the Minnesota countryside.
For this reader attracted to polished prose of the kind Kraus herself often avoids, I was captivated by the narrative style of the opening part.
As a reader who favors precise prose of the variety that the author usually avoids, I was won over by the storytelling approach of the initial part. It possesses a new quality of attentiveness that allows space for minutiae, like the pail that the young Catt frees from the ice at the start of the story, assisted by her cherished parent. "I found an ice toy!" she exclaims; "a great plaything", he responds, "the ambiguous meanings of language rolling around in their mouths like piece candy". She tells Emma's story with inquiry and familiarity. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream – not hers, exactly."
I was fated to feel let down when I wished this fresh tone could continue through the novel. Kraus says here that she is annoyed by the pleasure readers like me have derived from I Love Dick; she's devoted to disjunction, to the untidy aesthetics she shares with her inspiration author Kathy Acker, and the emptiness and redundancy of her previous novels returns in the central part. Catt is attempting to do up three dozen dilapidated units in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while moving between Minnesota and LA, unsuccessful in assisting Paul manage his alcohol use. She is overwhelmed as her spouse transitions between underfunded jobs as an substance abuse counselor in a society propelled by the hostility and dread that drives an electoral success. There are several pages about Catt being cancelled on social media, her occupation changed from "writer" to "property owner" on the online encyclopedia. She still gives the impression to be overly concerned about this. At one point she remarks that she's researching the homicide so that before leaving Minnesota, "she may grasp something about an the United States that her online critics would be unable to grasp, would not even perceive".
Thus we arrive to the murder itself – and the titular day experienced by the victim with the murderer and his companions. The author possesses great source material, and knows hour by hour what happened when a man named Brandon came to meet Brittney after meeting her on an app where she offered adult photos. He sought a sexual encounter but seems amiably to have occupied the day alongside her friends, mooching around fixing his automobile and covering the cost of food and substances, before being killed by gunfire by Brittney's boyfriend a man named Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has often been institutionalized for violent rage.
Catt gets obsessed by the account, and I found myself captivated by the way that her twin drives towards ethical reporting and daring boundary-pushing wrestle in this part. But I'd have liked her to delve deeper into her personal fixations here. The most interesting character is the character Brittney, who comes alive partially because of Catt seeing herself in her – yet another intelligent, harassed young woman going off the rails in a struggling, neglected community. Kraus tells us that Catt speaks to Brittney in detention, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. The whole section feels curiously unresolved, to the extent that Kraus's narration ends almost mid-par
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