The Four Spent the Day Together centers on individuals seeking new beginnings, attempting to leave behind drugs or abusive marriages, only to see hope turn into conflict. Chris Kraus often employs the phrase "clean slate", transforming it into willfully cynical through constant reiteration. Phrases such as "He could make a fresh start" and "They opted for a clean break" appear throughout the narrative. Meanwhile, the author herself appears to be undertaking her personal new beginning, as this seems a new kind of book – observational, genuinely novelistic. But then it turns out to be laden with the same dilemmas and aesthetics as earlier books.
From Unplanned Author to Cult Classic
Chris Kraus started out as an creative who became a writer somewhat by chance with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, structured as letters to an unreceptive lover, converting intimate women's literature from abjection into rebellion. She kept producing books, but the following three engaging and challenging novels lacked the shock and immediacy that the letter form brought to the narrative voice of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her identity as a nonconformist creator who had evolved into a extensive real estate holder, so there was significant attention on real estate deals. It is logical that she now wants to try out new kinds of material, turning outward to other people's stories, at a moment when she claims that Trumpian politics turns intimate literature obsolete.
Three Generations, Shared Inescapable History
The Four Spent the Day Together is divided into three sections, spanning three generations – none able to break free from their histories. The book includes the tale of characters Emma and Jasper, versions of the author's parents, moving from the New York borough to rural Connecticut. There is the narrative of the author, in the guise of Catt Greene, confronting the late recognition of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her addict husband Paul. The third thread involves the story of the murder of one troubled youth by another in a town long abandoned by forward-thinking policies only a brief drive from Catt's cottage in rural Minnesota.
For this reader attracted to refined literature of the sort the author herself tends to eschew, I was enchanted by the novelistic voice of the opening part.
As someone who reads who favors precise prose of the variety that Kraus often disregards, I was captivated by the novelistic voice of the initial part. It possesses a new quality of attentiveness that makes room for small details, like the container that the young Catt pries out of frozen water at the opening of the book, aided by her beloved father. "I found an ice toy!" she says; "a lovely toy", he answers, "the nuanced interpretations of terms rolling around in their mouths like sweet treats". She tells Emma's narrative with inquiry and familiarity. "Emma experienced a dreamlike sensation – not entirely her own."
Disappointment and Disjunction
I was bound to become frustrated when I expected this new voice could persist to the end. The author states here that she is annoyed by the enjoyment audiences such as myself have gotten from I Love Dick; she's committed to disjunction, to the messy artistic approach she echoes from her hero Kathy Acker, and the blankness and repetitiveness of her previous novels returns in the middle section. Catt is trying to renovate multiple decrepit residences in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while traveling between Minnesota and LA, failing to help her husband control his drinking. 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 a political win. A significant portion discusses about Catt being cancelled on Twitter, her listed profession modified from "author" to "landlord" on Wikipedia. Kraus still seems to invest excessive emotion about this. On one occasion she says that she's investigating the murder so that before exiting the region, "she may grasp something about an America that her online critics would not understand, would not even see".
The Killing Story
Then we reach to the actual killing – and the referenced day spent by the murdered individual with the perpetrator and his associates. Kraus utilizes excellent raw material, and knows hour by hour what happened when Brandon came to visit Brittney after meeting her on an app where she marketed explicit images. He anticipated intimacy but seems affably to have spent the day alongside her friends, mooching around fixing his automobile and funding treats and narcotics, before being killed by gunfire by Brittney's boyfriend Micah – a youth with psychological issues who has often been institutionalized for fits of anger.
Preoccupation and Open Ends
Catt develops an obsession by the account, and I found myself captivated by the way that Kraus's dual urges towards ethical reporting and audacious rule-breaking tussle in this section. However, I would have preferred her to explore more thoroughly her personal fixations here. The standout figure is Brittney, who gains dimension partly through the protagonist's connection to her – a similarly gifted, tormented individual spiraling out of control in a difficult, overlooked locality. Kraus tells us that the protagonist communicates with Brittney in detention, but she omits the dramatization of these talks. The complete segment feels oddly unfinished, to the point that the author's storytelling ends almost mid-par
