The Four Spent the Day Together features characters chasing after new beginnings, trying to break free from substance abuse or toxic relationships, only to witness hope devolve into conflict. Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "clean slate", transforming it into deliberately jaded through recurring use. Examples include "He was ready for a new beginning" and "They chose to begin anew" are scattered across the narrative. And yet, the author herself seems to be making her personal new beginning, as this presents as a novel form of writing – fact-based, genuinely novelistic. But then it turns out to be filled with the same dilemmas and approaches as earlier books.
Chris Kraus was originally an visual artist who transitioned to writing somewhat by chance with her 1997 seminal work I Love Dick, which was composed of letters to an unreceptive lover, transforming intimate women's literature from abjection into assassination. She kept producing books, but the next trio of fascinating and rebarbative novels missed the power and directness that the epistolary style infused into the narrative voice 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 housing investments. It follows that she currently desires to experiment with different types of content, turning outward to other people's stories, at a moment when she claims that contemporary political climate makes confessional writing unnecessary.
The Four Spent the Day Together is structured in three parts, spanning several time periods – none able to break free from their backgrounds. The book includes the story of characters Emma and Jasper, representations of Kraus's parents, transitioning from the urban environment to rural Connecticut. There is the account of Kraus, in the guise of a figure named Catt Greene, reckoning with the late recognition of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her substance-dependent spouse a man named Paul. The third thread involves the story of the murder of one directionless individual by another in a community largely deserted by progressive politics only a brief drive from Catt's rural residence in a remote part of Minnesota.
For this reader drawn to refined literature of the sort the author herself tends to eschew, I was captivated by the novelistic voice of the opening part.
Being a reader drawn to crafted language of the variety that Kraus often disregards, I was seduced by the storytelling approach of the initial part. There is a new quality of attentiveness that accommodates minutiae, like the container that the youthful Catt dislodges from ice at the start of the story, assisted by her cherished parent. "I found an ice toy!" she declares; "a great plaything", he responds, "the elliptical meanings of words rolling around in their mouths like sweet treats". The author narrates Emma's story with inquiry and familiarity. "Emma experienced a dreamlike sensation – not hers, exactly."
I was fated to feel let down when I expected this new voice could continue through the novel. Kraus says here that she dislikes the satisfaction those who appreciate polished prose have gotten 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 earlier works reasserts itself in the middle section. Catt Greene is trying to renovate multiple decrepit residences in the most troubled areas of Albuquerque while moving between two different states, unsuccessful in assisting Paul curb his addiction. She feels helpless as Paul cycles through underfunded jobs as an recovery specialist in a world driven by the rage and anxiety that powers a political win. There are several pages about Catt's social media ostracism on social media, her professional designation altered from "novelist" to "landlord" on Wikipedia. The author still appears to care a little too much about this. On one occasion 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 social media opponents would be unable to grasp, would not even perceive".
So then we come to the homicide in question – and the eponymous day passed by the victim with the murderer and his friends. The author possesses compelling foundational content, and reconstructs step by step what transpired 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 in the company of her associates, mooching around having his vehicle repaired and funding treats and narcotics, before being killed by gunfire by Brittney's boyfriend Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has frequently been hospitalised for aggressive outbursts.
Catt gets obsessed by the account, and I was intrigued by the way that her twin drives towards accurate chronicling and reckless transgression tussle in this section. But I'd have liked her to go further into her own obsessions here. The standout figure is the character Brittney, who gains dimension partly through the protagonist's connection to her – yet another intelligent, harassed young woman spiraling out of control in a difficult, overlooked locality. Kraus tells us that Catt converses with Brittney in detention, but she fails to enact these dialogues. The whole section feels curiously unresolved, to the degree that Kraus's narration ends almost mid-par
Elara Vance is a tech journalist with over a decade of experience covering AI, cybersecurity, and emerging technologies across Europe.