This latest work features protagonists chasing after clean slates, attempting to leave behind substance abuse or abusive marriages, only to find hope curdling into violence. Kraus often employs the phrase "new beginning", rendering it deliberately jaded through constant reiteration. Phrases such as "He aimed to start over" and "They opted for a clean break" appear throughout the story. At the same time, the author herself appears to be undertaking her individual reinvention, as this presents as a new kind of book – fact-based, authentically narrative. But then it reveals itself to be laden with the same dilemmas and approaches as past novels.
Chris Kraus was originally an creative who transitioned to writing unintentionally with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, made up of missives to a distant beloved, elevating personal female narrative from self-debasement into assassination. She continued writing, but the next trio of compelling and abrasive novels did not possess the impact and rawness that the correspondence format infused into the narrative voice of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her identity as a nonconformist creator who had turned into a major property owner, so there was significant attention on property transactions. It makes sense that she presently aims to experiment with fresh narrative sources, turning outward to the experiences of others, at a time when she asserts that contemporary political climate renders personal narrative unnecessary.
The Four Spent the Day Together is divided into three sections, encompassing three generations – all unable to escape their histories. We encounter the narrative about a couple named Emma and Jasper, based on Kraus's parents, transitioning from the Bronx to a pastoral setting. Then there is the narrative of the author, in the guise of protagonist Catt Greene, reckoning with the delayed acclaim of I Love Dick, the emergence of Trump, and her partner struggling with addiction a man named Paul. And there is the story of the murder of one troubled youth by another in a locality largely deserted by liberal ideals only 80 miles from Catt's rural residence in the Minnesota countryside.
From my perspective as a reader drawn to honed writing of the kind Kraus herself typically rejects, I was captivated by the narrative style of the first section.
Being a reader who appreciates honed writing of the kind that the author often disregards, I was seduced by the novelistic voice of the opening segment. It exhibits a new quality of attentiveness that allows space for small details, like the pail that the youthful Catt pries out of frozen water at the start of the story, assisted by her cherished parent. "I discovered a frozen plaything!" she says; "a lovely toy", he answers, "the elliptical meanings of words circulating in their speech like sweet treats". The author narrates Emma's story with interest and closeness. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream – not entirely her own."
I was bound to become frustrated when I wished this different style could continue through the novel. Kraus says here that she is annoyed by the satisfaction audiences such as myself have gotten from I Love Dick; she's dedicated to fragmentation, to the unpolished style she echoes from her idol writer Kathy Acker, and the void and recurrence of her previous novels returns in the central part. Catt is trying to renovate multiple decrepit residences in the city's most challenging districts while moving between Minnesota and LA, unsuccessful in assisting her husband control his drinking. She feels helpless as Paul transitions between low-resource employment as an addiction therapist in a world propelled by the anger and fear that drives an electoral success. A significant portion discusses about Catt being cancelled on Twitter, her occupation changed from "novelist" to "real estate holder" on a reference site. Kraus still seems to care a little too much about this. In a moment she remarks that she's investigating the murder so that before departing the state, "she could potentially understand something about an America that her Twitter detractors would fail to comprehend, would not even perceive".
Thus we arrive to the murder itself – and the eponymous day spent by the victim with the perpetrator and his associates. Kraus has compelling foundational content, and knows hour by hour what happened when a man named Brandon came to visit Brittney after connecting via an application where she offered adult photos. He anticipated intimacy but seems affably to have spent the day alongside her friends, mooching around getting his car mended and paying for snacks and drugs, before being shot by Brittney's boyfriend Micah – a individual with mental health challenges who has often been institutionalized for fits of anger.
Catt gets obsessed by the account, and I found myself captivated by the way that the author's conflicting impulses towards responsible documentation and reckless transgression wrestle in this part. However, I would have preferred her to delve deeper into her own obsessions here. The compelling persona is Brittney, who gains dimension in part due to Catt's identification with her – yet another intelligent, harassed young woman derailing in a troubled, forgotten town. The author informs us that the protagonist communicates with Brittney in jail, but she omits the dramatization of these talks. The complete segment feels curiously unresolved, to the degree that the author's storytelling ends almost mid-par
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