The Four Spent the Day Together by Chris Kraus – A Cult Writer Ventures Into Something New
The new book is populated with individuals seeking new beginnings, trying to break free from addictions or toxic relationships, only to see hope turn into violence. The author repeatedly invokes the phrase "new beginning", rendering it intentionally weary through constant reiteration. Sentences like "He aimed to start over" and "They chose to begin anew" are scattered across the story. Meanwhile, Kraus herself appears to be undertaking her personal new beginning, because this presents as a new kind of book – fact-based, genuinely novelistic. However it turns out to be laden with the familiar conflicts and approaches as past novels.
From Accidental Writer to Iconic Work
Chris Kraus was originally an visual artist who transitioned to writing almost accidentally with her 1997 groundbreaking book I Love Dick, made up of missives to a distant beloved, transforming intimate women's literature from abjection into rebellion. She continued writing, but the three subsequent compelling and abrasive novels missed the impact and rawness that the epistolary style imparted to the narrative voice of I Love Dick. This was not aided by was her position as a nonconformist creator who had turned into a major property owner, so there was much discussion on property transactions. It makes sense that she presently aims to explore new kinds of material, looking outwards to the experiences of others, at a time when she states that current political era renders personal narrative obsolete.
Three Generations, Collective Unavoidable Background
The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, encompassing several time periods – none able to break free from their backgrounds. The book includes the narrative about a couple named Emma and Jasper, versions of Kraus's parents, transitioning from the New York borough to a pastoral setting. Then there is the story of Kraus herself, in the character of Catt Greene, reckoning with the delayed acclaim of I Love Dick, the emergence of Trump, and her partner struggling with addiction Paul. And there is the story of the murder of one troubled youth by another in a community mostly forsaken by progressive politics only a short distance from Catt's cottage in the Minnesota countryside.
From my perspective as a reader fond of polished prose of the kind Kraus herself tends to eschew, I was seduced by the novelistic voice of the initial segment.
As a reader drawn to precise prose of the style that Kraus often disregards, I was captivated by the literary tone of the initial part. There is a fresh level of observation that allows space for minutiae, like the container that the young Catt frees from the ice at the start of the story, assisted by her beloved father. "Look, an ice toy!" she exclaims; "a lovely toy", he responds, "the ambiguous meanings of language tumbling in their mouths like piece candy". The author narrates Emma's story with curiosity and intimacy. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream – not hers, exactly."
Letdown and Fragmentation
I was destined to be disappointed when I wished this different style could last out the book. Kraus says here that she resents the satisfaction audiences such as myself have derived from I Love Dick; she's devoted to disruption, to the unpolished style she shares with her hero author Kathy Acker, and the emptiness and redundancy of her previous novels reasserts itself in the middle section. Catt is attempting to do up three dozen dilapidated units in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while shuttling between Minnesota and LA, failing to help Paul control his drinking. She experiences powerlessness as her spouse transitions between underfunded jobs as an recovery specialist in a society propelled by the rage and anxiety that drives a political win. Multiple pages are devoted about the protagonist facing cancellation on social media, her listed profession modified from "writer" to "property owner" on a reference site. 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 leaving Minnesota, "she may grasp something about an the nation that her social media opponents would fail to comprehend, would not even perceive".
The Homicide Account
So then we come to the murder itself – and the titular day spent by the deceased with the perpetrator and his companions. Kraus has compelling foundational content, and reconstructs step by step what transpired when a man named Brandon came to see Brittney after encountering her on a platform where she marketed explicit images. He anticipated intimacy but seems affably to have spent the day in the company of her associates, mooching around fixing his automobile and funding treats and narcotics, before being murdered by Brittney's boyfriend Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has frequently been hospitalised for violent rage.
Preoccupation and Open Ends
Catt gets obsessed by the narrative, and I found myself captivated by the way that Kraus's dual urges towards responsible documentation and audacious rule-breaking clash in this segment. But I'd have liked her to delve deeper into her individual preoccupations here. The compelling persona is the character Brittney, who comes alive partially because of Catt seeing herself in her – another bright, bullied girl derailing in a struggling, neglected community. Kraus tells us that Catt speaks to Brittney in jail, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. The whole section feels oddly unfinished, to the extent that Kraus's narration ends almost mid-par