The new book is populated with protagonists chasing after new beginnings, trying to break free from drugs or abusive marriages, only to witness hope devolve into conflict. Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "new beginning", transforming it into intentionally weary through constant reiteration. Phrases such as "He aimed to start over" and "They decided to make a fresh start" are scattered across the narrative. And yet, she is embarking on her individual reinvention, as this appears a novel form of writing – documentarian, authentically narrative. Yet it proves to be packed with the familiar conflicts and styles as her previous works.
Chris Kraus began as an artist who transitioned to writing somewhat by chance with her 1997 groundbreaking book I Love Dick, structured as missives to a distant beloved, converting personal female narrative from abjection into rebellion. She continued writing, but the following three engaging and challenging novels lacked the shock and immediacy that the correspondence format infused into the tone of I Love Dick. It didn't help was her position as a nonconformist creator who had turned into a major property owner, so there was much discussion on real estate deals. It makes sense that she presently aims to try out fresh narrative sources, looking outwards to other people's stories, at a moment when she asserts that Trumpian politics makes confessional writing unnecessary.
The Four Spent the Day Together is structured in three parts, covering multiple eras – all unable to escape their backgrounds. The book includes the tale of a couple named Emma and Jasper, based on her own mother and father, moving from the Bronx to rural Connecticut. Additionally the story of Kraus herself, in the guise of Catt Greene, reckoning with the delayed acclaim of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her addict husband a man named Paul. The third thread involves the story of the murder of one lost young man by another in a community largely deserted by forward-thinking policies only a brief drive from Catt's rural residence in rural Minnesota.
For this reader fond of polished prose of the kind Kraus herself tends to eschew, I was captivated by the narrative style of the opening part.
As a reader who favors honed writing of the variety that the author often disregards, I was captivated by the storytelling approach of the initial part. It possesses a novel degree of detail that allows space for trivial aspects, like the pail that the young Catt frees from the ice at the start of the story, aided by her cherished parent. "Look, an ice toy!" she exclaims; "a nice toy", he responds, "the ambiguous meanings of language rolling around in their mouths like piece candy". The author narrates Emma's story with interest and closeness. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream – not precisely her dream."
I was fated to feel let down when I expected this different style could persist to the end. Kraus notes here that she dislikes the satisfaction readers like me have taken from I Love Dick; she's committed to disruption, to the unpolished style she shares with her inspiration writer Kathy Acker, and the void and recurrence of her earlier works reasserts itself in the central part. The protagonist is working on refurbishing 36 run-down apartments in the most troubled areas of Albuquerque while shuttling between Minnesota and LA, unable to aid Paul manage his alcohol use. She feels helpless as Paul moves between low-resource employment as an addiction therapist in a society propelled by the anger and fear 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 a reference site. Kraus still seems to invest excessive emotion about this. At one point she states that she's researching the homicide so that before leaving Minnesota, "she could potentially understand something about an the nation that her Twitter detractors would fail to comprehend, would overlook entirely".
Thus we arrive to the murder itself – and the referenced day passed by the victim with the killer and his associates. The author possesses great source material, and details moment by moment what happened when the victim Brandon came to see Brittney after connecting via an application where she marketed explicit images. He anticipated intimacy but appears congenially to have passed the day alongside her friends, mooching around fixing his automobile and funding treats and narcotics, before being killed by gunfire by Brittney's partner Micah – a individual with mental health challenges who has frequently been hospitalised for violent rage.
The protagonist becomes fixated by the account, and I found myself captivated by the way that the author's conflicting impulses towards accurate chronicling and reckless transgression tussle in this section. But I'd have liked her to delve deeper into her own obsessions here. The most interesting character is Brittney herself, who becomes vivid partly through the protagonist's connection to her – a similarly gifted, tormented individual spiraling out of control in a troubled, forgotten town. Kraus notes that Catt converses with Brittney in prison, but she fails to enact these dialogues. This entire part feels curiously unresolved, to the point that Kraus's narration ends almost mid-par