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The Four Spent the Day Together is populated with protagonists chasing after fresh starts, attempting to leave behind drugs or abusive marriages, only to witness hope devolve into violence. Kraus often employs the phrase "fresh start", rendering it deliberately jaded through constant reiteration. Examples include "He aimed to start over" and "They decided to make a fresh start" are scattered across the story. At the same time, the author herself seems to be making her individual reinvention, as this presents as a novel form of writing – fact-based, genuinely novelistic. But then it turns out to be filled with the familiar conflicts and styles as past novels.

From Chance Novelist to Cult Classic

Chris Kraus was originally an visual artist who entered the literary world unintentionally with her 1997 seminal work I Love Dick, made up of letters to an unreceptive lover, elevating personal female narrative from abjection into defiance. She continued writing, but the three subsequent compelling and abrasive novels missed the shock and immediacy that the letter form brought to the tone of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her position as a nonconformist creator who had become a major property owner, so there was much discussion on housing investments. It follows that she presently aims to explore different types of content, turning outward to other people's stories, at a time when she states that contemporary political climate renders personal narrative obsolete.

Several Eras, Collective Unavoidable Background

The Four Spent the Day Together is structured in three parts, spanning three generations – all unable to escape their histories. The book includes the story of characters Emma and Jasper, versions of the author's parents, transitioning from the urban environment to a pastoral setting. Then there is the narrative of the author, in the guise of protagonist Catt Greene, confronting the delayed acclaim of I Love Dick, the ascent of a political figure, and her substance-dependent spouse a man named Paul. The third thread involves the story of the murder of one lost young man by another in a town mostly forsaken by liberal ideals only a brief drive from the protagonist's home in the Minnesota countryside.

For this reader fond of refined literature of the sort Kraus typically rejects, I was enchanted by the narrative style of the first section.

As a reader who appreciates crafted language of the kind that the author tends to eschew, I was won over by the novelistic voice of the initial part. It exhibits a fresh level of observation that makes room for trivial aspects, like the bucket that the protagonist as a child frees from the ice at the opening of the book, assisted by her cherished parent. "Look, an ice toy!" she exclaims; "a lovely toy", he replies, "the elliptical meanings of words circulating in their speech like sweet treats". Kraus writes Emma's narrative with interest and closeness. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream – not precisely her dream."

Disappointment and Disjunction

I was bound to become frustrated when I expected this fresh tone could continue through the novel. Kraus says here that she dislikes the satisfaction those who appreciate polished prose have taken from I Love Dick; she's committed to disruption, to the untidy aesthetics she echoes from her idol writer Kathy Acker, and the blankness and repetitiveness of her previous novels returns in the central part. Catt Greene is attempting to do up 36 run-down apartments in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while shuttling between two different states, unable to aid Paul manage his alcohol use. She is overwhelmed as her spouse moves between underfunded jobs as an addiction therapist in a society driven by the rage and anxiety that powers Trump's victory. A significant portion discusses about the protagonist facing cancellation on social media, her professional designation altered from "author" to "property owner" on a reference site. Kraus still seems to invest excessive emotion about this. At one point she says that she's researching the homicide so that before departing the state, "she might be able to learn something about an the United States that her Twitter detractors would be unable to grasp, would not even perceive".

The Homicide Account

So then we come to the homicide in question – and the referenced day passed by the murdered individual with the perpetrator and his associates. Kraus utilizes excellent raw material, and knows hour by hour what occurred as Brandon came to meet Brittney after meeting her on an app where she offered adult photos. He anticipated intimacy but seems amiably to have occupied the day alongside her friends, mooching around having his vehicle repaired and paying for snacks and drugs, before being murdered by Brittney's partner Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has frequently been hospitalised for aggressive outbursts.

Fascination and Incompletion

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. Yet I wished her to delve deeper into her personal fixations here. The compelling persona is Brittney, who gains dimension partly through Catt seeing herself in her – yet another intelligent, harassed young woman going off the rails in a difficult, overlooked locality. The author informs us that Catt converses with Brittney in jail, but she omits the dramatization of these talks. This entire part feels curiously unresolved, to the extent that her narrative ends almost mid-par