The new book centers on protagonists seeking clean slates, trying to break free from addictions or harmful partnerships, only to find hope curdling into conflict. Chris Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "new beginning", transforming it into deliberately jaded through constant reiteration. Sentences like "He could make a fresh start" and "They opted for a clean break" are scattered across the story. And yet, Kraus herself seems to be making her own fresh start, because this seems a different type of work – documentarian, truly literary. However it proves to be laden with the same dilemmas and approaches as past novels.
Kraus began as an visual artist who transitioned to writing unintentionally with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, made up of missives to a distant beloved, transforming personal female narrative from abjection into rebellion. She continued writing, but the following three fascinating and rebarbative novels missed the shock and immediacy that the epistolary style infused into the tone of I Love Dick. It didn't help was her role as a nonconformist creator who had evolved into a major property owner, so there was significant attention on real estate deals. It is logical that she presently aims to experiment with new kinds of material, turning outward to external narratives, at a period in which she claims that contemporary political climate makes confessional writing unnecessary.
The Four Spent the Day Together is divided into three sections, covering three generations – none able to break free from their histories. The book includes the narrative about characters Emma and Jasper, based on Kraus's parents, moving from the New York borough to a pastoral setting. There is the story of Kraus herself, in the guise of a figure named Catt Greene, reckoning with the late recognition of I Love Dick, the emergence of Trump, and her addict husband her husband Paul. The third thread involves the narrative of a homicide of one lost young man by another in a town largely deserted by progressive politics only a brief drive from Catt's cottage in a remote part of Minnesota.
For this reader fond of polished prose of the type Kraus herself typically rejects, I was enchanted by the literary tone of the opening part.
As a reader drawn to honed writing of the kind that Kraus herself usually avoids, I was captivated by the novelistic voice of the first section. It exhibits a new quality of attentiveness that accommodates trivial aspects, like the pail that the youthful Catt frees from the ice at the start of the story, assisted by her cherished parent. "I discovered a frozen plaything!" she says; "a great plaything", he replies, "the nuanced interpretations of terms tumbling in their mouths like piece candy". The author narrates the tale of Emma with inquiry and familiarity. "It seemed to Emma she had entered a dream – not entirely her own."
I was bound to become frustrated when I expected this fresh tone could last out the book. Kraus notes here that she is annoyed by the enjoyment audiences such as myself have derived from I Love Dick; she's dedicated to disjunction, to the unpolished style she echoes from her idol author Kathy Acker, and the blankness and repetitiveness of her past books reasserts itself in the central part. The protagonist is trying to renovate multiple decrepit residences in the city's most challenging districts while traveling between two different states, unsuccessful in assisting Paul manage his alcohol use. She feels helpless as Paul transitions between poorly supported positions as an substance abuse counselor in a world driven by the rage and anxiety that drives Trump's victory. A significant portion discusses about Catt's social media ostracism on social media, her occupation changed from "writer" to "landlord" on Wikipedia. Kraus still seems to care a little too much about this. At one point 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 online critics would be unable to grasp, would not even perceive".
Thus we arrive to the murder itself – and the referenced day spent by the deceased with the killer and his associates. Kraus utilizes excellent raw material, and details moment by moment what happened when the victim Brandon came to meet Brittney after connecting via an application where she offered adult photos. He was hoping for sex but seems affably to have spent the day with her companions, mooching around getting his car mended and funding treats and narcotics, before being killed by gunfire by her romantic interest a man named Micah – a individual with mental health challenges who has repeatedly received inpatient care for fits of anger.
Catt develops an obsession by the narrative, and I found myself captivated by the way that her twin drives towards accurate chronicling and reckless transgression wrestle in this part. But I'd have liked her to explore more thoroughly her individual preoccupations here. The compelling persona is the character Brittney, who becomes vivid partially because of Catt seeing herself in her – a similarly gifted, tormented individual derailing in a troubled, forgotten town. The author informs us that Catt speaks to Brittney in prison, but she fails to enact these dialogues. The whole section feels strangely incomplete, to the extent that her narrative ends almost mid-par
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