The new book features protagonists seeking new beginnings, trying to break free from addictions or harmful partnerships, only to see hope turn into violence. Chris Kraus frequently uses the phrase "fresh start", transforming it into deliberately jaded through recurring use. Examples include "He was ready for a new beginning" and "They decided to make a fresh start" are scattered across the story. And yet, Kraus herself seems to be making her personal new beginning, because this seems a new kind of book – observational, genuinely novelistic. But then it turns out to be laden with the same dilemmas and approaches as past novels.
From Accidental Writer to Iconic Work
Chris Kraus began as an artist who became a writer somewhat by chance with her 1997 groundbreaking book I Love Dick, structured as missives to a distant beloved, converting confessional female writing from abjection into assassination. She kept producing books, but the next trio of engaging and challenging novels lacked the impact and rawness that the epistolary style imparted to the tone of I Love Dick. It didn't help was her identity as a renegade artist who had turned into a large-scale low-rent landlord, so there was much discussion on housing investments. It is logical that she presently aims to try out fresh narrative sources, turning outward to external narratives, at a moment when she asserts that Trumpian politics makes confessional writing obsolete.
Several Eras, One Unescapable Past
The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, covering multiple eras – each trapped by their pasts. We encounter the tale of a couple named Emma and Jasper, representations of Kraus's parents, relocating from the Bronx to a pastoral setting. Then there is the account of Kraus, in the guise of protagonist Catt Greene, grappling with the late recognition of I Love Dick, the ascent of a political figure, and her addict husband a man named Paul. The third thread involves the account of a killing of one directionless individual by another in a locality mostly forsaken by forward-thinking policies only 80 miles from the protagonist's home in the Minnesota countryside.
As a reader drawn to honed writing of the type Kraus herself often avoids, I was captivated by the novelistic voice of the first section.
As someone who reads drawn to honed writing of the variety that Kraus herself usually avoids, I was captivated by the novelistic voice of the initial part. It exhibits a new quality of attentiveness that allows space for small details, like the pail that the youthful Catt dislodges from ice at the start of the story, helped by her cherished parent. "I found an ice toy!" she declares; "a lovely toy", he responds, "the nuanced interpretations of terms circulating in their speech like piece candy". The author narrates Emma's story with interest and closeness. "It seemed to Emma she had entered a dream – not precisely her dream."
Frustration and Disruption
I was fated to feel let down when I expected this fresh tone could persist to the end. The author states here that she dislikes the enjoyment readers like me have taken from I Love Dick; she's dedicated to disruption, to the unpolished style she shares with her hero writer Kathy Acker, and the blankness and repetitiveness of her past books reasserts itself in the second segment. The protagonist is attempting to do up three dozen dilapidated units in the most troubled areas of Albuquerque while moving between two different states, failing to help Paul manage his alcohol use. She is overwhelmed as Paul moves between poorly supported positions as an substance abuse counselor in a society propelled by the hostility and dread that underpins an electoral success. Multiple pages are devoted about Catt being cancelled on Twitter, her listed profession modified from "author" to "real estate holder" on the online encyclopedia. Kraus still seems to be overly concerned about this. In a moment she states that she's investigating the murder so that before departing the state, "she might be able to learn something about an the United States that her Twitter detractors would fail to comprehend, would not even see".
The Homicide Account
So then we come to the homicide in question – and the eponymous day spent by the deceased with the perpetrator and his associates. The author possesses great source material, and details moment by moment what transpired when Brandon came to meet Brittney after meeting her on an app where she offered adult photos. He was hoping for sex but seems amiably to have occupied the day in the company of her associates, wandering about getting his car mended and covering the cost of food and substances, before being shot by her romantic interest a man named Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has repeatedly received inpatient care for violent rage.
Preoccupation and Open Ends
The protagonist becomes fixated by the account, and I found myself captivated by the way that Kraus's dual urges towards ethical reporting and daring boundary-pushing wrestle in this part. However, I would have preferred her to go further into her own obsessions here. The most interesting character is Brittney herself, who comes alive partially because of the protagonist's connection to her – yet another intelligent, harassed young woman spiraling out of control in a difficult, overlooked locality. Kraus tells us that Catt speaks to Brittney in prison, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. The whole section feels strangely incomplete, to the point that Kraus's narration ends almost mid-par
