A Look at The Four Spent the Day Together by author Chris Kraus – An Iconic Writer Explores Something New

This latest work is populated with characters seeking clean slates, trying to break free from substance abuse or abusive marriages, only to witness hope devolve into violence. Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "fresh start", rendering it deliberately jaded through recurring use. Examples include "He was ready for a new beginning" and "They decided to make a fresh start" recur in the narrative. Meanwhile, she appears to be undertaking her own fresh start, since this presents as a new kind of book – fact-based, truly literary. But then it reveals itself to be filled with the same dilemmas and styles as her previous works.

From Accidental Writer to Cult Classic

Kraus began as an visual artist who transitioned to writing somewhat by chance with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, made up of missives to a distant beloved, transforming confessional female writing from humiliation into defiance. She continued writing, but the next trio of engaging and challenging novels lacked the power and directness that the correspondence format brought to the voice of I Love Dick. It didn't help was her position as a nonconformist creator who had become a major property owner, so there was much discussion on property transactions. It is logical that she now wants to experiment with new kinds of material, looking outwards to external narratives, at a moment when she asserts that contemporary political climate makes confessional writing redundant.

Multiple Generations, Shared Inescapable History

The Four Spent the Day Together is structured in three parts, encompassing multiple eras – all unable to escape their pasts. There is the tale of characters Emma and Jasper, representations of her own mother and father, moving from the urban environment to rural Connecticut. Then there is the narrative of the author, in the persona of Catt Greene, grappling with the belated success of I Love Dick, the ascent of a political figure, and her addict husband her husband Paul. Finally the account of a killing of one lost young man by another in a community largely deserted by liberal ideals only a brief drive from the protagonist's home in a remote part of Minnesota.

For this reader drawn to polished prose of the sort Kraus herself tends to eschew, I was captivated by the novelistic voice of the first section.

As a reader drawn to crafted language of the style that Kraus herself often disregards, I was seduced by the literary tone of the initial part. There is a fresh level of observation that accommodates small details, like the container that the protagonist as a child dislodges from ice at the opening of the book, assisted by her beloved father. "I found an ice toy!" she declares; "a nice toy", he responds, "the ambiguous meanings of language tumbling in their mouths like piece candy". The author narrates Emma's narrative with inquiry and familiarity. "It seemed to Emma she had entered a dream – not hers, exactly."

Disappointment and Disjunction

I was destined to be disappointed when I hoped this different style could continue through the novel. Kraus says here that she resents the satisfaction readers like me have derived from I Love Dick; she's committed to disruption, to the messy artistic approach she has in common with her hero writer Kathy Acker, and the blankness and repetitiveness of her earlier works reasserts itself in the middle section. The protagonist is working on refurbishing three dozen dilapidated units in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while moving between Minnesota and LA, unsuccessful in assisting her husband curb his addiction. She experiences powerlessness as her spouse moves between poorly supported positions as an addiction therapist in a world propelled by the anger and fear that underpins a political win. Multiple pages are devoted about the protagonist facing cancellation on Twitter, her occupation changed from "writer" to "property owner" on the online encyclopedia. She still gives the impression to invest excessive emotion about this. At one point she says that she's looking into the killing so that before exiting the region, "she might be able to learn something about an America that her Twitter detractors would fail to comprehend, would not even see".

The Homicide Account

So then we come to the actual killing – and the referenced day passed by the deceased with the perpetrator and his associates. Kraus has excellent raw material, and knows hour by hour what happened when Brandon came to see Brittney after connecting via an application where she sold sex pictures. He sought a sexual encounter but seems affably to have spent the day with her companions, wandering about getting his car mended and covering the cost of food and substances, before being shot by Brittney's partner Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has repeatedly received inpatient care for fits of anger.

Preoccupation and Open Ends

The protagonist becomes fixated by the story, and I found myself captivated by the way that Kraus's dual urges towards responsible documentation and audacious rule-breaking wrestle in this part. Yet I wished her to delve deeper into her individual preoccupations here. The standout figure is Brittney herself, who gains dimension in part due to the protagonist's connection to her – another bright, bullied girl derailing in a troubled, forgotten town. Kraus tells us that Catt converses with Brittney in jail, but she fails to enact these dialogues. The whole section feels curiously unresolved, to the degree that her narrative ends almost mid-par