This latest work features protagonists seeking fresh starts, attempting to leave behind addictions or toxic relationships, only to witness hope devolve into aggression. The author repeatedly invokes the phrase "new beginning", transforming it into willfully cynical through recurring use. Examples include "He aimed to start over" and "They chose to begin anew" are scattered across the story. At the same time, the author herself seems to be making her individual reinvention, as this seems a novel form of writing – documentarian, genuinely novelistic. Yet it reveals itself to be laden with the familiar conflicts and aesthetics as past novels.
Chris Kraus started out as an artist who entered the literary world somewhat by chance with her 1997 seminal work I Love Dick, structured as letters to an unreceptive lover, converting personal female narrative from abjection into assassination. She kept producing books, but the following three fascinating and rebarbative novels did not possess the shock and immediacy that the letter form infused into the tone of I Love Dick. It didn't help was her position as a maverick maker who had become a major property owner, so there was significant attention on housing investments. It is logical that she now wants to explore different types of content, looking outwards to the experiences of others, at a time when she asserts that current political era turns intimate literature redundant.
The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, encompassing three generations – each trapped by their backgrounds. The book includes the story of a couple named Emma and Jasper, based on her own mother and father, transitioning from the Bronx to a pastoral setting. Then there is the account of Kraus, in the guise of a figure named Catt Greene, grappling with the belated success of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her substance-dependent spouse Paul. Finally the account of a killing of one lost young man by another in a town long abandoned by progressive politics only a brief drive from the protagonist's home in the Minnesota countryside.
As a reader attracted to polished prose of the kind Kraus herself typically rejects, I was captivated by the narrative style of the initial segment.
As a reader drawn to crafted language of the kind that Kraus tends to eschew, I was won over by the novelistic voice of the first section. It possesses a novel degree of detail that allows space for trivial aspects, like the pail that the youthful Catt pries out of frozen water at the opening of the book, helped by her cherished parent. "I found an ice toy!" she exclaims; "a nice toy", he replies, "the elliptical meanings of words rolling around in their mouths like piece candy". The author narrates the tale of Emma with curiosity and intimacy. "It seemed to Emma she had entered a dream – not hers, exactly."
I was fated to feel let down when I expected this fresh tone could last out the book. Kraus notes here that she dislikes the satisfaction those who appreciate polished prose have gotten from I Love Dick; she's committed to fragmentation, to the messy artistic approach she has in common with her idol Kathy Acker, and the blankness and repetitiveness of her earlier works reasserts itself in the middle section. Catt is attempting to do up 36 run-down apartments in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while traveling between two different states, unable to aid Paul control his drinking. She experiences powerlessness as her spouse moves between underfunded jobs as an recovery specialist in a world propelled by the anger and fear that drives Trump's victory. Multiple pages are devoted about the protagonist facing cancellation on social media, her listed profession modified from "author" to "landlord" on the online encyclopedia. She still gives the impression to invest excessive emotion about this. On one occasion she states that she's looking into the killing so that before leaving Minnesota, "she may grasp something about an the nation that her online critics would not understand, would overlook entirely".
Then we reach to the murder itself – and the titular day passed by the deceased with the murderer and his friends. Kraus utilizes compelling foundational content, and knows hour by hour what transpired when the victim Brandon came to see Brittney after encountering her on a platform where she marketed explicit images. He anticipated intimacy but seems amiably to have occupied the day with her companions, wandering about getting his car mended and covering the cost of food and substances, before being murdered by Brittney's boyfriend Micah – a individual with mental health challenges who has frequently been hospitalised for fits of anger.
Catt develops an obsession by the story, and I was intrigued by the way that her twin drives towards ethical reporting and daring boundary-pushing wrestle in this part. However, I would have preferred her to go further into her individual preoccupations here. The standout figure is Brittney herself, who comes alive partly through the protagonist's connection to her – another bright, bullied girl spiraling out of control in a struggling, neglected community. Kraus tells us that the protagonist communicates with Brittney in prison, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. This entire part feels strangely incomplete, to the point that the author's storytelling ends almost mid-par