The Four Spent the Day Together from author Chris Kraus – A Cult Writer Explores Fresh Territory

The new book is populated with individuals pursuing new beginnings, attempting to leave behind substance abuse or toxic relationships, only to find hope curdling into aggression. The author frequently uses the phrase "new beginning", rendering it intentionally weary through recurring use. Phrases such as "He aimed to start over" and "They opted for a clean break" recur in the text. Meanwhile, the author herself seems to be making her personal new beginning, as this seems a novel form of writing – documentarian, truly literary. However it reveals itself to be packed with the same dilemmas and aesthetics as her previous works.

From Unplanned Author to Renowned Book

Kraus was originally an visual artist who transitioned to writing almost accidentally with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, made up of epistles to an unresponsive love interest, elevating confessional female writing from self-debasement into rebellion. She kept producing books, but the following three compelling and abrasive novels did not possess the power and directness that the epistolary style brought to the voice of I Love Dick. This was not aided by was her identity as a renegade artist who had become a extensive real estate holder, so there was much discussion on property transactions. It follows that she now wants to experiment with different types of content, turning outward to external narratives, at a period in which she states that contemporary political climate makes confessional writing redundant.

Three Generations, Shared Inescapable History

The Four Spent the Day Together is structured in three parts, spanning multiple eras – none able to break free from their backgrounds. The book includes the story of a couple named Emma and Jasper, versions of Kraus's parents, moving from the urban environment to rural Connecticut. Then there is the story of Kraus herself, in the character of protagonist Catt Greene, grappling with the delayed acclaim of I Love Dick, the emergence of Trump, and her substance-dependent spouse Paul. Finally the account of a killing of one directionless individual by another in a locality largely deserted by liberal ideals only a short distance from Catt's rural residence in rural Minnesota.

From my perspective as a reader drawn to honed writing of the sort the author herself tends to eschew, I was captivated by the narrative style of the first section.

As a reader who favors honed writing of the kind that the author tends to eschew, I was seduced by the novelistic voice of the opening segment. It exhibits a novel degree of detail that allows space for trivial aspects, like the container that the youthful Catt dislodges from ice at the start of the story, helped by her beloved father. "Look, an ice toy!" she declares; "a great plaything", he answers, "the nuanced interpretations of terms tumbling in their mouths like hard candy". She tells Emma's story with interest and closeness. "It seemed to Emma she had entered a dream – not precisely her dream."

Letdown and Fragmentation

I was fated to feel let down when I expected this different style could persist to the end. Kraus notes here that she resents the satisfaction audiences such as myself have taken from I Love Dick; she's devoted to disjunction, to the messy artistic approach she shares with her inspiration Kathy Acker, and the blankness and repetitiveness of her previous novels reasserts itself in the central part. Catt is working on refurbishing 36 run-down apartments in the most troubled areas of Albuquerque while shuttling between Minnesota and LA, failing to help her husband curb his addiction. She experiences powerlessness as her spouse cycles through low-resource employment as an substance abuse counselor in a world fueled by the rage and anxiety that powers Trump's victory. Multiple pages are devoted about the protagonist facing cancellation on Twitter, her listed profession modified from "novelist" to "real estate holder" on a reference site. 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 leaving Minnesota, "she could potentially understand something about an America that her social media opponents would be unable to grasp, would not even see".

The Homicide Account

Then we reach to the murder itself – and the referenced day passed by the murdered individual with the perpetrator and his associates. Kraus has 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 sold sex pictures. He anticipated intimacy but seems affably to have spent the day with her companions, wandering about fixing his automobile and funding treats and narcotics, before being shot by her romantic interest Micah – a individual with mental health challenges who has often been institutionalized for aggressive outbursts.

Preoccupation and Open Ends

Catt gets obsessed by the story, and I found myself captivated by the way that the author's conflicting impulses towards responsible documentation and audacious rule-breaking wrestle in this part. However, I would have preferred her to explore more thoroughly her individual preoccupations here. The compelling persona is Brittney herself, who comes alive partially because of the protagonist's connection to her – another bright, bullied girl derailing in a difficult, overlooked locality. Kraus notes that the protagonist communicates with Brittney in jail, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. The whole section feels curiously unresolved, to the extent that her narrative ends almost mid-par

Stacy Schmidt
Stacy Schmidt

A tech writer and innovation strategist with over a decade of experience in digital transformation and creative problem-solving.