The Four Spent the Day Together centers on individuals chasing after clean slates, struggling to escape addictions or harmful partnerships, only to witness hope devolve into aggression. Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "clean slate", transforming it into willfully cynical through its repetitions. Phrases such as "He aimed to start over" and "They chose to begin anew" appear throughout the narrative. At the same time, Kraus herself is embarking on her own fresh start, because this presents as a different type of work – documentarian, genuinely novelistic. But then it reveals itself to be filled with the same dilemmas and aesthetics as earlier books.
Chris Kraus began as an artist who entered the literary world somewhat by chance with her 1997 groundbreaking book I Love Dick, made up of letters to an unreceptive lover, elevating personal female narrative from humiliation into defiance. She kept producing books, but the next trio of compelling and abrasive novels did not possess the impact and rawness that the correspondence format infused into the tone of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her role as a nonconformist creator who had evolved into a extensive real estate holder, so there was much discussion on real estate deals. It follows that she now wants to explore fresh narrative sources, looking outwards to the experiences of others, at a period in which she states that current political era renders personal narrative redundant.
The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, covering multiple eras – each trapped by their pasts. The book includes the story of Emma and Jasper, versions of Kraus's parents, relocating from the urban environment to the Connecticut countryside. Then there is the story of Kraus herself, in the persona of a figure named Catt Greene, reckoning with the belated success of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her addict husband Paul. And there is the story of the murder of one directionless individual by another in a community mostly forsaken by progressive politics only a short distance from Catt's rural residence in a remote part of Minnesota.
From my perspective as a reader drawn to refined literature of the type Kraus herself often avoids, I was enchanted by the literary tone of the initial segment.
As a reader drawn to crafted language of the variety that Kraus herself tends to eschew, I was won over by the novelistic voice of the opening segment. It exhibits a fresh level of observation that accommodates small details, like the container that the youthful Catt pries out of frozen water at the beginning of the narrative, aided by her beloved father. "I found an ice toy!" she exclaims; "a great plaything", he replies, "the nuanced interpretations of terms rolling around in their mouths like hard candy". Kraus writes Emma's story with inquiry and familiarity. "Emma experienced a dreamlike sensation – not hers, exactly."
I was fated to feel let down when I expected this fresh tone could last out the book. Kraus says here that she is annoyed by the satisfaction audiences such as myself have gotten from I Love Dick; she's dedicated to disjunction, to the messy artistic approach she shares with her inspiration Kathy Acker, and the emptiness and redundancy of her past books comes back in the middle section. The protagonist is attempting to do up multiple decrepit residences in the most troubled areas of Albuquerque while moving between the Midwest and the West Coast, unsuccessful in assisting Paul manage his alcohol use. She feels helpless as her spouse cycles through underfunded jobs as an addiction therapist in a world fueled by the anger and fear that underpins Trump's victory. Multiple pages are devoted about the protagonist facing cancellation on Twitter, her occupation changed from "author" to "landlord" on the online encyclopedia. The author still appears to be overly concerned about this. In a moment she says that she's researching the homicide so that before departing the state, "she might be able to learn something about an America that her Twitter detractors would not understand, would not even perceive".
Thus we arrive to the actual killing – and the referenced day experienced by the victim with the murderer and his associates. Kraus utilizes excellent raw material, and reconstructs step by step what happened when Brandon came to meet Brittney after meeting her on an app where she marketed explicit images. He sought a sexual encounter but seems amiably to have occupied the day alongside her friends, loitering having his vehicle repaired and covering the cost of food and substances, before being shot by Brittney's boyfriend a man named Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has repeatedly received inpatient care for violent rage.
Catt gets obsessed by the account, and I was fascinated by the way that the author's conflicting impulses towards accurate chronicling and reckless transgression tussle in this section. Yet I wished her to explore more thoroughly her own obsessions here. The most interesting character is the character Brittney, who gains dimension partly through Catt seeing herself in her – another bright, bullied girl derailing in a troubled, forgotten town. Kraus tells us that Catt speaks to Brittney in prison, but she fails to enact these dialogues. This entire part feels oddly unfinished, to the extent that Kraus's narration ends almost mid-par
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