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The Four Spent the Day Together is populated with characters chasing after new beginnings, attempting to leave behind addictions or harmful partnerships, only to see hope turn into aggression. Chris Kraus frequently uses the phrase "fresh start", transforming it into intentionally weary through its repetitions. Phrases such as "He was ready for a new beginning" and "They decided to make a fresh start" appear throughout the story. And yet, the author herself appears to be undertaking her individual reinvention, since this presents as a novel form of writing – observational, authentically narrative. However it turns out to be packed with the familiar conflicts and aesthetics as past novels.

From Unplanned Author to Cult Classic

Kraus began as an visual artist who transitioned to writing almost accidentally with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, which was composed of epistles to an unresponsive love interest, transforming intimate women's literature from humiliation into assassination. She continued writing, but the next trio of engaging and challenging novels did not possess the impact and rawness that the letter form brought to the tone of I Love Dick. It didn't help was her position as a nonconformist creator who had become a large-scale low-rent landlord, so there was considerable focus on real estate deals. It is logical that she currently desires to try out new kinds of material, directing her gaze to external narratives, at a time when she claims that Trumpian politics renders personal narrative obsolete.

Three Generations, Shared Inescapable History

The Four Spent the Day Together is structured in three parts, encompassing three generations – each trapped by their histories. We encounter the tale of a couple named Emma and Jasper, representations of the author's parents, transitioning from the Bronx to a pastoral setting. Then there is the account of Kraus, in the character of a figure named Catt Greene, confronting the belated success of I Love Dick, the emergence of Trump, and her addict husband Paul. The third thread involves the account of a killing of one directionless individual by another in a town long abandoned by liberal ideals only 80 miles from Catt's rural residence in a remote part of Minnesota.

As a reader fond of refined literature of the type Kraus often avoids, I was captivated by the narrative style of the opening part.

As someone who reads who favors honed writing of the kind that Kraus herself often disregards, I was seduced by the literary tone of the opening segment. It possesses a fresh level of observation that allows space for minutiae, like the bucket that the protagonist as a child pries out of frozen water at the beginning of the narrative, helped by her cherished parent. "Look, an ice toy!" she exclaims; "a nice toy", he replies, "the nuanced interpretations of terms tumbling in their mouths like sweet treats". The author narrates Emma's story with curiosity and intimacy. "It seemed to Emma she had entered a dream – not precisely her dream."

Frustration and Disruption

I was bound to become frustrated when I expected this different style could last out the book. Kraus says here that she dislikes the enjoyment audiences such as myself have gotten from I Love Dick; she's devoted to disruption, to the untidy aesthetics she echoes from her inspiration Kathy Acker, and the emptiness and redundancy of her earlier works comes back in the central part. The protagonist is attempting to do up three dozen dilapidated units in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while shuttling between Minnesota and LA, unable to aid her husband control his drinking. She experiences powerlessness as Paul moves between poorly supported positions as an substance abuse counselor in a society fueled by the rage and anxiety that underpins a political win. A significant portion discusses about the protagonist facing cancellation on social media, her listed profession modified from "author" to "real estate holder" on Wikipedia. The author still appears to care a little too much about this. In a moment she remarks that she's looking into the killing so that before exiting the region, "she might be able to learn something about an the United States that her social media opponents would be unable to grasp, would overlook entirely".

The Murder Narrative

Thus we arrive to the murder itself – and the referenced day passed by the murdered individual with the killer and his associates. Kraus utilizes compelling foundational content, and knows hour by hour what transpired when Brandon came to visit Brittney after encountering her on a platform where she sold sex pictures. He was hoping for sex but appears congenially to have passed the day alongside her friends, loitering getting his car mended and covering the cost of food and substances, before being killed by gunfire by Brittney's partner Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has repeatedly received inpatient care for fits of anger.

Preoccupation and Open Ends

Catt develops an obsession by the account, and I was fascinated by the way that Kraus's dual urges towards accurate chronicling and daring boundary-pushing clash in this segment. But I'd have liked her to go further into her own obsessions here. The most interesting character is Brittney, who gains dimension partially because of Catt seeing herself in her – a similarly gifted, tormented individual spiraling out of control in a difficult, overlooked locality. Kraus notes that Catt speaks to Brittney in detention, but she fails to enact these dialogues. This entire part feels strangely incomplete, to the degree that the author's storytelling ends almost mid-par