The Four Spent the Day Together from Chris Kraus – A Renowned Writer Attempts Something New
The new book features protagonists seeking new beginnings, trying to break free from drugs or toxic relationships, only to witness hope devolve into violence. Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "clean slate", transforming it into deliberately jaded through constant reiteration. Sentences like "He could make a fresh start" and "They opted for a clean break" appear throughout the narrative. Meanwhile, Kraus herself is embarking on her own fresh start, because this presents as a new kind of book – fact-based, genuinely novelistic. But then it proves to be filled with the same dilemmas and approaches as earlier books.
From Accidental Writer to Renowned Book
Chris Kraus started out as an artist who entered the literary world almost accidentally with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, which was composed of missives to a distant beloved, transforming intimate women's literature from humiliation into rebellion. She persisted as a writer, but the following three engaging and challenging novels did not possess the impact and rawness that the letter form imparted to the tone of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her role as a renegade artist who had evolved into a large-scale low-rent landlord, so there was considerable focus on housing investments. It is logical that she presently aims to try out fresh narrative sources, looking outwards to external narratives, at a period in which she asserts that Trumpian politics turns intimate literature obsolete.
Multiple Generations, Collective Unavoidable Background
The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, encompassing multiple eras – each trapped by their histories. The book includes the narrative about characters Emma and Jasper, representations of her own mother and father, moving from the Bronx to the Connecticut countryside. Additionally the account of Kraus, in the persona of protagonist Catt Greene, reckoning with the delayed acclaim of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her substance-dependent spouse a man named Paul. And there is the account of a killing of one lost young man by another in a locality long abandoned by forward-thinking policies only a short distance from Catt's rural residence in a remote part of Minnesota.
For this reader attracted to honed writing of the kind the author herself often avoids, I was seduced by the narrative style of the opening part.
As a reader who appreciates precise prose of the kind that the author often disregards, I was captivated by the novelistic voice of the opening segment. It possesses a new quality of attentiveness that makes room for trivial aspects, like the pail that the protagonist as a child frees from the ice at the opening of the book, helped by her beloved father. "Look, an ice toy!" she exclaims; "a lovely toy", he responds, "the elliptical meanings of words rolling around in their mouths like hard candy". She tells the tale of Emma with interest and closeness. "It seemed to Emma she had entered a dream – not hers, exactly."
Letdown and Fragmentation
I was fated to feel let down when I hoped this different style could continue through the novel. Kraus says here that she resents the enjoyment audiences such as myself have taken from I Love Dick; she's devoted to fragmentation, to the messy artistic approach she has in common with her idol author Kathy Acker, and the void and recurrence of her previous novels returns in the central part. Catt is trying to renovate 36 run-down apartments in the city's most challenging districts while shuttling between Minnesota and LA, unable to aid her husband manage his alcohol use. She experiences powerlessness as Paul transitions between poorly supported positions as an addiction therapist in a environment driven by the hostility and dread that underpins an electoral success. There are several pages about Catt being cancelled on Twitter, her professional designation altered from "writer" to "property owner" on a reference site. The author still appears to invest excessive emotion about this. At one point she remarks that she's investigating the murder so that before leaving Minnesota, "she could potentially understand something about an the nation that her Twitter detractors would fail to comprehend, would overlook entirely".
The Murder Narrative
Then we reach to the murder itself – and the eponymous day spent by the victim with the murderer and his associates. Kraus utilizes compelling foundational content, and details moment by moment what occurred as Brandon came to meet Brittney after connecting via an application where she marketed explicit images. He sought a sexual encounter but seems affably to have spent the day alongside her friends, wandering about getting his car mended and funding treats and narcotics, before being shot by Brittney's boyfriend a man named Micah – a individual with mental health challenges who has often been institutionalized for violent rage.
Fascination and Incompletion
Catt gets obsessed by the narrative, and I was fascinated by the way that the author's conflicting impulses towards ethical reporting and reckless transgression wrestle in this part. But I'd have liked her to delve deeper into her personal fixations here. The compelling persona is Brittney, who becomes vivid partly through Catt's identification with her – another bright, bullied girl spiraling out of control in a difficult, overlooked locality. Kraus tells us that Catt speaks to Brittney in detention, but she fails to enact these dialogues. The whole section feels curiously unresolved, to the extent that the author's storytelling ends almost mid-par