The new book is populated with individuals chasing after clean slates, attempting to leave behind addictions or abusive marriages, only to find hope curdling into conflict. The author often employs the phrase "fresh start", transforming it into willfully cynical through its repetitions. Examples include "He could make a fresh start" and "They opted for a clean break" are scattered across the narrative. Meanwhile, she seems to be making her own fresh start, since this seems a different type of work β documentarian, genuinely novelistic. But then it proves to be packed with the recurring issues and styles as earlier books.
Chris Kraus began as an creative who transitioned to writing unintentionally with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, structured as missives to a distant beloved, elevating confessional female writing from self-debasement into assassination. She kept producing books, but the three subsequent engaging and challenging novels did not possess the impact and rawness that the epistolary style infused into the voice of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her position as a nonconformist creator who had evolved into a large-scale low-rent landlord, so there was considerable focus on housing investments. It makes sense that she now wants to experiment with different types of content, turning outward to other people's stories, at a period in which she states that Trumpian politics makes confessional writing unnecessary.
The Four Spent the Day Together is divided into three sections, spanning multiple eras β all unable to escape their histories. We encounter the narrative about a couple named Emma and Jasper, based on the author's parents, transitioning from the urban environment to the Connecticut countryside. Then there is the account of Kraus, in the character of Catt Greene, grappling with the late recognition of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her partner struggling with addiction a man named Paul. And there is the narrative of a homicide of one directionless individual by another in a community mostly forsaken by forward-thinking policies only 80 miles from Catt's cottage in rural Minnesota.
As a reader drawn to honed writing of the type Kraus tends to eschew, I was seduced by the literary tone of the opening part.
As a reader drawn to crafted language of the style that the author usually avoids, I was won over by the storytelling approach of the initial part. It possesses a new quality of attentiveness that accommodates trivial aspects, like the bucket that the protagonist as a child dislodges from ice at the start of the story, assisted by her adored dad. "I found an ice toy!" she says; "a great plaything", he answers, "the elliptical meanings of words circulating in their speech like sweet treats". Kraus writes Emma's story with interest and closeness. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream β not precisely her dream."
I was destined to be disappointed when I hoped this fresh tone could last out the book. The author states here that she resents the enjoyment readers like me have derived from I Love Dick; she's committed to disruption, to the untidy aesthetics she has in common with her idol author Kathy Acker, and the blankness and repetitiveness of her previous novels comes back in the second segment. Catt Greene is trying to renovate three dozen dilapidated units in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while shuttling between Minnesota and LA, failing to help Paul control his drinking. She is overwhelmed as Paul transitions between underfunded jobs as an recovery specialist in a environment fueled by the rage and anxiety that powers Trump's victory. Multiple pages are devoted about the protagonist facing cancellation on Twitter, her professional designation altered from "writer" to "landlord" on the online encyclopedia. She still gives the impression to care a little too much about this. In a moment she remarks that she's researching the homicide so that before departing the state, "she may grasp something about an the United States that her online critics would not understand, would not even perceive".
Thus we arrive to the murder itself β and the titular day passed by the deceased with the killer and his associates. Kraus utilizes great source material, and knows hour by hour what happened when Brandon came to meet Brittney after encountering her on a platform where she marketed explicit images. He was hoping for sex but seems affably to have spent the day alongside her friends, loitering having his vehicle repaired and funding treats and narcotics, before being shot by her romantic interest Micah β a youth with psychological issues who has frequently been hospitalised for fits of anger.
Catt gets obsessed by the account, and I found myself captivated by the way that the author's conflicting impulses towards accurate chronicling and daring boundary-pushing tussle in this section. But I'd have liked her to explore more thoroughly her personal fixations here. The standout figure is Brittney herself, who comes alive in part due to Catt's identification with her β a similarly gifted, tormented individual going off the rails in a difficult, overlooked locality. Kraus tells us that Catt converses with Brittney in detention, but she omits the dramatization of these talks. This entire part feels curiously unresolved, to the point that Kraus's narration ends almost mid-par
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