The new book is populated with characters seeking fresh starts, attempting to leave behind substance abuse or abusive marriages, only to see hope turn into conflict. The author often employs the phrase "fresh start", making it deliberately jaded through its repetitions. Phrases such as "He could make a fresh start" and "They chose to begin anew" are scattered across the text. And yet, Kraus herself seems to be making her own fresh start, since this seems a different type of work – observational, truly literary. Yet it turns out to be packed with the recurring issues and aesthetics as earlier books.
Chris Kraus began as an visual artist who entered the literary world somewhat by chance with her 1997 seminal work I Love Dick, structured as letters to an unreceptive lover, transforming intimate women's literature from abjection into assassination. She persisted as a writer, but the following three engaging and challenging novels did not possess the impact and rawness that the letter form infused into the tone of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her role as a nonconformist creator who had turned into a extensive real estate holder, so there was significant attention on housing investments. It follows that she presently aims to experiment with new kinds of material, turning outward to the experiences of others, at a period in which she asserts that current political era renders personal narrative redundant.
The Four Spent the Day Together is structured in three parts, covering multiple eras – all unable to escape their histories. We encounter the narrative about Emma and Jasper, versions of her own mother and father, moving from the Bronx to a pastoral setting. There is the story of Kraus herself, in the persona of Catt Greene, confronting the delayed acclaim of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her partner struggling with addiction her husband Paul. And there is the story of the murder of one lost young man by another in a locality mostly forsaken by forward-thinking policies only a brief drive from Catt's cottage in rural Minnesota.
For this reader fond of honed writing of the kind the author herself typically rejects, I was seduced by the literary tone of the opening part.
As a reader who appreciates precise prose of the style that Kraus often disregards, I was won over by the storytelling approach of the initial part. There is a novel degree of detail that allows space for trivial aspects, like the container that the protagonist as a child dislodges from ice at the start of the story, assisted by her adored dad. "Look, an ice toy!" she says; "a nice toy", he responds, "the nuanced interpretations of terms tumbling in their mouths like sweet treats". The author narrates Emma's story with curiosity and intimacy. "It seemed to Emma she had entered a dream – not entirely her own."
I was bound to become frustrated when I hoped this fresh tone could continue through the novel. Kraus says here that she resents the enjoyment audiences such as myself have taken from I Love Dick; she's devoted to fragmentation, to the messy artistic approach she echoes from her hero Kathy Acker, and the void and recurrence of her past books returns in the second segment. Catt Greene is trying to renovate multiple decrepit residences in the most troubled areas of Albuquerque while moving between Minnesota and LA, failing to help Paul manage his alcohol use. She feels helpless as her spouse cycles through low-resource employment as an recovery specialist in a environment fueled by the hostility and dread that powers a political win. There are several pages about Catt being cancelled on a platform, her occupation changed from "novelist" to "property owner" on a reference site. Kraus still seems to invest excessive emotion about this. In a moment she states that she's investigating the murder so that before exiting the region, "she could potentially understand something about an the United States that her online critics would be unable to grasp, would not even see".
So then we come to the homicide in question – and the titular day passed by the murdered individual with the killer and his associates. The author possesses great source material, and knows hour by hour what occurred as Brandon came to visit Brittney after connecting via an application where she sold sex pictures. He was hoping for sex but seems amiably to have occupied the day in the company of her associates, loitering fixing his automobile and covering the cost of food and substances, before being murdered by Brittney's boyfriend a man named Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has repeatedly received inpatient care for violent rage.
The protagonist becomes fixated by the account, and I was fascinated by the way that her twin drives towards responsible documentation and reckless transgression wrestle in this part. However, I would have preferred her to delve deeper into her personal fixations here. The most interesting character is Brittney, who comes alive partly through Catt seeing herself in her – a similarly gifted, tormented individual derailing in a troubled, forgotten town. Kraus notes that Catt converses with Brittney in prison, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. The complete segment feels curiously unresolved, to the degree that her narrative ends almost mid-par
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