Exploring The Four Spent the Day Together from Chris Kraus – A Cult Writer Explores Fresh Territory
This latest work features individuals seeking new beginnings, attempting to leave behind substance abuse or harmful partnerships, only to see hope turn into aggression. The author often employs the phrase "fresh start", making it deliberately jaded through constant reiteration. Phrases such as "He could make a fresh start" and "They decided to make a fresh start" are scattered across the text. At the same time, Kraus herself appears to be undertaking her individual reinvention, since this seems a new kind of book – observational, genuinely novelistic. But then it proves to be laden with the same dilemmas and styles as her previous works.
From Accidental Writer to Cult Classic
Chris Kraus started out as an creative who entered the literary world almost accidentally with her 1997 seminal work I Love Dick, structured as epistles to an unresponsive love interest, transforming intimate women's literature from self-debasement into defiance. She continued writing, but the next trio of engaging and challenging novels did not possess the shock and immediacy that the letter form infused into the tone of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her identity as a maverick maker who had evolved into a extensive real estate holder, so there was significant attention on real estate deals. It follows that she now wants to experiment with new kinds of material, turning outward to other people's stories, at a time when she claims that Trumpian politics turns intimate literature obsolete.
Multiple Generations, One Unescapable Past
The Four Spent the Day Together is divided into three sections, covering multiple eras – all unable to escape their histories. There is the narrative about Emma and Jasper, versions of her own mother and father, moving from the Bronx to rural Connecticut. There is the story of Kraus herself, in the character of protagonist Catt Greene, confronting the late recognition of I Love Dick, the emergence of Trump, and her addict husband a man named Paul. Finally the story of the murder of one lost young man by another in a locality largely deserted by progressive politics only a brief drive from the protagonist's home in a remote part of Minnesota.
From my perspective as a reader attracted to polished prose of the kind Kraus typically rejects, I was seduced by the novelistic voice of the opening part.
As someone who reads drawn to precise prose of the kind that Kraus tends to eschew, I was seduced by the novelistic voice of the opening segment. It possesses a novel degree of detail that accommodates trivial aspects, like the pail that the youthful Catt frees from the ice at the opening of the book, aided by her cherished parent. "Look, an ice toy!" she declares; "a great plaything", he replies, "the nuanced interpretations of terms tumbling in their mouths like hard candy". The author narrates the tale of Emma with interest and closeness. "Emma experienced a dreamlike sensation – not hers, exactly."
Disappointment and Disjunction
I was fated to feel let down when I expected this new voice could continue through the novel. Kraus notes here that she dislikes the pleasure those who appreciate polished prose have taken from I Love Dick; she's dedicated to disjunction, to the unpolished style she echoes from her hero writer Kathy Acker, and the emptiness and redundancy of her earlier works returns in the central part. Catt Greene is attempting to do up multiple decrepit residences in the city's most challenging districts while traveling between the Midwest and the West Coast, failing to help Paul control his drinking. She experiences powerlessness as her spouse cycles through underfunded jobs as an substance abuse counselor in a world driven by the rage and anxiety that underpins Trump's victory. A significant portion discusses about the protagonist facing cancellation on a platform, her listed profession modified from "novelist" to "real estate holder" on a reference site. Kraus still seems to care a little too much 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 online critics would not understand, would not even perceive".
The Homicide Account
Then we reach to the actual killing – and the eponymous day passed by the deceased with the murderer and his friends. Kraus utilizes compelling foundational content, and reconstructs step by step what happened when a man named Brandon came to meet Brittney after meeting her on an app where she marketed explicit images. He was hoping for sex but seems affably to have spent the day alongside her friends, mooching around fixing his automobile and funding treats and narcotics, before being shot by her romantic interest Micah – a youth with psychological issues who has repeatedly received inpatient care for violent rage.
Preoccupation and Open Ends
Catt gets obsessed by the narrative, and I was intrigued by the way that the author's conflicting impulses towards accurate chronicling and audacious rule-breaking clash in this segment. But I'd have liked her to explore more thoroughly her own obsessions here. The standout figure is Brittney, who comes alive partly through Catt seeing herself in her – another bright, bullied girl derailing in a difficult, overlooked locality. Kraus notes that Catt converses with Brittney in detention, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. The whole section feels strangely incomplete, to the extent that Kraus's narration ends almost mid-par