The new book centers on protagonists chasing after new beginnings, trying to break free from addictions or abusive marriages, only to witness hope devolve into conflict. Chris Kraus frequently uses the phrase "fresh start", making it intentionally weary through its repetitions. Sentences like "He aimed to start over" and "They decided to make a fresh start" appear throughout the text. And yet, Kraus herself seems to be making her own fresh start, as this appears a new kind of book – documentarian, truly literary. Yet it turns out to be filled with the recurring issues and styles as earlier books.
From Accidental Writer to Cult Classic
Kraus was originally an visual artist who entered the literary world unintentionally with her 1997 groundbreaking book I Love Dick, which was composed of missives to a distant beloved, converting personal female narrative from abjection into rebellion. She kept producing books, but the three subsequent engaging and challenging novels lacked the impact and rawness that the letter form imparted to the narrative voice of I Love Dick. It didn't help was her position as a renegade artist who had become a large-scale low-rent landlord, so there was much discussion on property transactions. It is logical that she presently aims to experiment with different types of content, turning outward to external narratives, at a time when she states that Trumpian politics turns intimate literature unnecessary.
Several Eras, Shared Inescapable History
The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, covering three generations – none able to break free from their pasts. There is the tale of Emma and Jasper, representations of the author's parents, relocating from the Bronx to a pastoral setting. Additionally the narrative of the author, in the character of Catt Greene, grappling with the late recognition of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her substance-dependent spouse a man named Paul. And there is the story of the murder of one troubled youth by another in a locality long abandoned by forward-thinking policies only 80 miles from the protagonist's home in a remote part of Minnesota.
For this reader fond of refined literature of the kind Kraus herself often avoids, I was enchanted by the literary tone of the initial segment.
As someone who reads drawn to honed writing of the kind that Kraus herself tends to eschew, I was seduced by the novelistic voice of the first section. It possesses a fresh level of observation that accommodates small details, like the pail that the young Catt pries out of frozen water at the opening of the book, assisted by her adored dad. "I found an ice toy!" she says; "a nice toy", he answers, "the elliptical meanings of words rolling around in their mouths like piece candy". Kraus writes Emma's story with inquiry and familiarity. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream – not entirely her own."
Letdown and Fragmentation
I was fated to feel let down when I wished this fresh tone could last out the book. Kraus says here that she is annoyed by the enjoyment those who appreciate polished prose have taken from I Love Dick; she's devoted to disjunction, to the unpolished style she shares with her idol Kathy Acker, and the void and recurrence of her earlier works returns in the middle section. The protagonist is working on refurbishing three dozen dilapidated units in the city's most challenging districts while shuttling between Minnesota and LA, failing to help her husband curb his addiction. She feels helpless as Paul transitions between poorly supported positions as an recovery specialist in a environment fueled by the anger and fear that drives an electoral success. Multiple pages are devoted about Catt's social media ostracism on Twitter, her professional designation altered from "author" to "real estate holder" on the online encyclopedia. Kraus still seems to invest excessive emotion about this. In a moment she states that she's researching the homicide so that before exiting the region, "she could potentially understand something about an the United States that her online critics would fail to comprehend, would not even see".
The Homicide Account
So then we come to the murder itself – and the referenced day spent by the victim with the killer and his companions. The author possesses compelling foundational content, and knows hour by hour what happened when the victim Brandon came to see Brittney after connecting via an application where she marketed explicit images. He was hoping for sex but appears congenially to have passed the day with her companions, wandering about getting his car mended and funding treats and narcotics, before being shot by Brittney's partner Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has often been institutionalized for violent rage.
Preoccupation and Open Ends
The protagonist becomes fixated by the narrative, and I was fascinated by the way that the author's conflicting impulses towards ethical reporting and reckless transgression tussle in this section. However, I would have preferred her to go further into her own obsessions here. The compelling persona is the character Brittney, who comes alive partially because of the protagonist's connection to her – a similarly gifted, tormented individual derailing in a difficult, overlooked locality. Kraus tells us that the protagonist communicates with Brittney in prison, but she omits the dramatization of these talks. This entire part feels oddly unfinished, to the point that her narrative ends almost mid-par
