The Four Spent the Day Together is populated with characters pursuing clean slates, attempting to leave behind drugs or toxic relationships, only to see hope turn into violence. The author frequently uses the phrase "clean slate", transforming it into intentionally weary through recurring use. Phrases such as "He was ready for a new beginning" and "They opted for a clean break" recur in the story. And yet, the author herself is embarking on her individual reinvention, since this appears a different type of work – fact-based, truly literary. But then it turns out to be packed with the same dilemmas and aesthetics as her previous works.
From Accidental Writer to Iconic Work
Chris Kraus began as an artist who became a writer almost accidentally with her 1997 seminal work I Love Dick, which was composed of letters to an unreceptive lover, converting intimate women's literature from humiliation into defiance. She kept producing books, but the three subsequent fascinating and rebarbative novels did not possess the shock and immediacy that the epistolary style imparted to the narrative voice of I Love Dick. This was not aided by was her role as a maverick maker who had evolved into a extensive real estate holder, so there was significant attention on housing investments. It makes sense that she now wants to experiment with different types of content, turning outward to external narratives, at a time when she states that contemporary political climate makes confessional writing obsolete.
Three Generations, One Unescapable Past
The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, encompassing several time periods – each trapped by their pasts. We encounter the tale of characters Emma and Jasper, representations of her own mother and father, transitioning from the New York borough to the Connecticut countryside. Additionally the account of Kraus, in the persona of a figure named Catt Greene, reckoning with the belated success of I Love Dick, the ascent of a political figure, and her addict husband Paul. Finally the account of a killing of one directionless individual by another in a town long abandoned by progressive politics only a brief drive from Catt's rural residence in rural Minnesota.
As a reader drawn to polished prose of the type Kraus herself typically rejects, I was captivated by the narrative style of the first section.
As someone who reads drawn to crafted language of the style that Kraus often disregards, I was won over by the storytelling approach of the opening segment. It possesses a fresh level of observation that accommodates minutiae, like the bucket that the youthful Catt frees from the ice at the start of the story, assisted by her beloved father. "Look, an ice toy!" she says; "a great plaything", he responds, "the nuanced interpretations of terms tumbling in their mouths like hard candy". Kraus writes Emma's narrative with curiosity and intimacy. "Emma experienced a dreamlike sensation – not entirely her own."
Disappointment and Disjunction
I was bound to become frustrated when I expected this different style could last out the book. Kraus says here that she is annoyed by the satisfaction audiences such as myself have derived from I Love Dick; she's dedicated to disjunction, to the unpolished style she has in common with her hero author Kathy Acker, and the blankness and repetitiveness of her earlier works returns in the middle section. Catt Greene is working on refurbishing multiple decrepit residences in the city's most challenging districts while shuttling between the Midwest and the West Coast, unable to aid Paul curb his addiction. She feels helpless as Paul cycles through poorly supported positions as an addiction therapist in a society propelled by the rage and anxiety that powers an electoral success. There are several pages about Catt's social media ostracism on a platform, her occupation changed from "writer" to "real estate holder" on Wikipedia. The author still appears to care a little too much about this. At one point she says that she's looking into the killing so that before leaving Minnesota, "she may grasp something about an America that her online critics would fail to comprehend, would overlook entirely".
The Killing Story
Then we reach to the homicide in question – and the referenced day experienced by the victim with the murderer and his friends. The author possesses excellent raw material, and knows hour by hour what occurred as the victim Brandon came to meet Brittney after encountering her on a platform where she sold sex pictures. He sought a sexual encounter but seems affably to have spent the day alongside her friends, wandering about having his vehicle repaired and funding treats and narcotics, before being shot by Brittney's partner Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has often been institutionalized for aggressive outbursts.
Fascination and Incompletion
The protagonist becomes fixated by the account, and I was intrigued by the way that Kraus's dual urges towards responsible documentation and daring boundary-pushing wrestle in this part. However, I would have preferred her to explore more thoroughly her individual preoccupations here. The standout figure is the character Brittney, who gains dimension partially because of the protagonist's connection to her – another bright, bullied girl derailing in a troubled, forgotten town. Kraus notes that the protagonist communicates with Brittney in detention, but she fails to enact these dialogues. The complete segment feels strangely incomplete, to the extent that Kraus's narration ends almost mid-par
