The Four Spent the Day Together centers on individuals chasing after clean slates, trying to break free from addictions or harmful partnerships, only to find hope curdling into conflict. Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "new beginning", transforming it into willfully cynical through recurring use. Phrases such as "He was ready for a new beginning" and "They chose to begin anew" recur in the text. Meanwhile, she is embarking on her own fresh start, as this appears a new kind of book – documentarian, authentically narrative. But then it turns out to be packed with the familiar conflicts and approaches as her previous works.
From Unplanned Author to Cult Classic
Chris Kraus was originally an visual artist who became a writer almost accidentally with her 1997 groundbreaking book I Love Dick, made up of missives to a distant beloved, elevating personal female narrative from self-debasement into rebellion. She kept producing books, but the next trio of fascinating and rebarbative novels lacked the power and directness that the letter form infused into the tone of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her position as a maverick maker who had turned into a large-scale low-rent landlord, so there was much discussion on housing investments. It is logical that she currently desires to explore new kinds of material, turning outward to the experiences of others, at a period in which she states that Trumpian politics makes confessional writing redundant.
Multiple Generations, Collective Unavoidable Background
The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, spanning three generations – all unable to escape their backgrounds. There is the tale of Emma and Jasper, based on Kraus's parents, moving from the Bronx to rural Connecticut. Additionally the account of Kraus, in the guise of Catt Greene, reckoning with the late recognition of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her addict husband a man named Paul. Finally the narrative of a homicide of one directionless individual by another in a community mostly forsaken by progressive politics only a brief drive from Catt's cottage in a remote part of Minnesota.
As a reader fond of refined literature of the type the author herself typically rejects, I was seduced by the literary tone of the opening part.
As a reader who appreciates crafted language of the kind that the author tends to eschew, I was won over by the novelistic voice of the initial part. There is a fresh level of observation that makes room for small details, like the container that the youthful Catt dislodges from ice at the beginning of the narrative, helped by her cherished parent. "Look, an ice toy!" she declares; "a lovely toy", he responds, "the nuanced interpretations of terms tumbling in their mouths like piece candy". The author narrates Emma's narrative with interest and closeness. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream – not entirely her own."
Disappointment and Disjunction
I was destined to be disappointed when I expected this different style could persist to the end. Kraus notes here that she resents the enjoyment audiences such as myself have gotten from I Love Dick; she's devoted to disjunction, to the unpolished style she shares with her hero Kathy Acker, and the emptiness and redundancy of her past books reasserts itself in the middle section. The protagonist is working on refurbishing three dozen dilapidated units in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while traveling between Minnesota and LA, unsuccessful in assisting Paul control his drinking. She feels helpless as Paul moves between underfunded jobs as an substance abuse counselor in a society fueled by the rage and anxiety that underpins a political win. A significant portion discusses about Catt being cancelled on Twitter, her listed profession modified from "novelist" to "landlord" on Wikipedia. She still gives the impression to invest excessive emotion about this. At one point she says that she's investigating the murder so that before departing the state, "she could potentially understand something about an the United States that her online critics would fail to comprehend, would overlook entirely".
The Murder Narrative
So then we come to the actual killing – and the referenced day spent by the murdered individual with the killer and his friends. Kraus has great source material, and knows hour by hour what happened when Brandon came to visit Brittney after connecting via an application where she marketed explicit images. He sought a sexual encounter but seems amiably to have occupied the day alongside her friends, wandering about getting his car mended and paying for snacks and drugs, before being killed by gunfire by Brittney's boyfriend Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has repeatedly received inpatient care for fits of anger.
Preoccupation and Open Ends
The protagonist becomes fixated by the account, and I found myself captivated by the way that Kraus's dual urges towards ethical reporting and daring boundary-pushing tussle in this section. Yet I wished her to explore more thoroughly her personal fixations here. The standout figure is Brittney, who gains dimension in part due to the protagonist's connection to her – another bright, bullied girl spiraling out of control in a troubled, forgotten town. Kraus notes that Catt speaks to Brittney in detention, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. This entire part feels oddly unfinished, to the point that Kraus's narration ends almost mid-par
