The new book centers on characters seeking new beginnings, trying to break free from addictions or toxic relationships, only to see hope turn into aggression. Chris Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "new beginning", making it intentionally weary through constant reiteration. Phrases such as "He was ready for a new beginning" and "They opted for a clean break" are scattered across the text. At the same time, the author herself seems to be making her own fresh start, since this presents as a new kind of book – documentarian, genuinely novelistic. But then it turns out to be packed with the recurring issues and approaches as her previous works.
Chris Kraus started out as an artist who became a writer unintentionally with her 1997 groundbreaking book I Love Dick, structured as epistles to an unresponsive love interest, transforming confessional female writing from abjection into rebellion. She persisted as a writer, but the following three compelling and abrasive novels did not possess the shock and immediacy that the epistolary style infused into the narrative voice of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her identity as a maverick maker who had evolved into a large-scale low-rent landlord, so there was significant attention on housing investments. It follows that she currently desires to try out new kinds of material, directing her gaze to the experiences of others, at a moment when she states that current political era renders personal narrative obsolete.
The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, spanning multiple eras – none able to break free from their histories. There is the tale of a couple named Emma and Jasper, representations of the author's parents, transitioning from the New York borough to rural Connecticut. Then there is the narrative of the author, in the persona of protagonist Catt Greene, reckoning with the belated success of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her partner struggling with addiction her husband Paul. And there is the account of a killing of one lost young man by another in a locality mostly forsaken by forward-thinking policies only a short distance from Catt's cottage in the Minnesota countryside.
From my perspective as a reader attracted to polished prose of the kind the author herself often avoids, I was enchanted by the narrative style of the first section.
As someone who reads who appreciates honed writing of the kind that the author often disregards, I was seduced by the storytelling approach of the opening segment. There is a new quality of attentiveness that allows space for small details, like the container that the young Catt dislodges from ice at the beginning of the narrative, aided by her beloved father. "I found an ice toy!" she says; "a great plaything", he replies, "the nuanced interpretations of terms tumbling in their mouths like hard candy". The author narrates Emma's narrative 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 wished this fresh tone could continue through the novel. Kraus says here that she resents the pleasure readers like me have taken from I Love Dick; she's devoted to fragmentation, to the messy artistic approach she echoes from her idol writer Kathy Acker, and the blankness and repetitiveness of her past books reasserts itself in the second segment. Catt is attempting to do up three dozen dilapidated units in the most troubled areas of Albuquerque while moving between two different states, unable to aid Paul curb his addiction. She experiences powerlessness as Paul moves between poorly supported positions as an recovery specialist in a environment driven by the anger and fear that powers a political win. There are several pages about the protagonist facing cancellation on social media, her professional designation altered from "author" to "property owner" on Wikipedia. The author still appears to invest excessive emotion about this. In a moment she says that she's looking into the killing so that before departing the state, "she could potentially understand something about an America that her Twitter detractors would not understand, would not even see".
Thus we arrive to the murder itself – and the referenced day spent by the victim with the murderer and his companions. Kraus has great source material, and reconstructs step by step what transpired when Brandon came to meet Brittney after encountering her on a platform where she marketed explicit images. He anticipated intimacy but seems amiably to have occupied the day in the company of her associates, mooching around fixing his automobile and paying for snacks and drugs, before being murdered by her romantic interest Micah – a individual with mental health challenges who has frequently been hospitalised for fits of anger.
The protagonist becomes fixated by the narrative, and I was intrigued by the way that her twin drives towards responsible documentation and audacious rule-breaking wrestle in this part. However, I would have preferred her to delve deeper into her own obsessions here. The compelling persona is Brittney, who comes alive in part due to Catt's identification with her – another bright, bullied girl going off the rails in a troubled, forgotten town. Kraus tells us that the protagonist communicates with Brittney in prison, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. This entire part feels curiously unresolved, to the degree that the author's storytelling ends almost mid-par
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