Exploring The Four Spent the Day Together from author Chris Kraus – A Cult Writer Attempts Something New

This latest work is populated with characters seeking new beginnings, attempting to leave behind addictions or toxic relationships, only to find hope curdling into aggression. Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "clean slate", rendering it willfully cynical through constant reiteration. Examples include "He aimed to start over" and "They decided to make a fresh start" appear throughout the narrative. Meanwhile, she seems to be making her individual reinvention, since this seems a different type of work – observational, authentically narrative. Yet it reveals itself to be packed with the same dilemmas and styles as her previous works.

From Unplanned Author to Iconic Work

Chris Kraus was originally an visual artist who entered the literary world somewhat by chance with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, which was composed of epistles to an unresponsive love interest, transforming confessional female writing from humiliation into assassination. She kept producing books, but the next trio of engaging and challenging novels missed the shock and immediacy that the correspondence format imparted to the voice of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her role as a renegade artist who had evolved into a large-scale low-rent landlord, so there was significant attention on real estate deals. It follows that she now wants to explore fresh narrative sources, looking outwards to the experiences of others, at a moment when she asserts that current political era renders personal narrative redundant.

Several Eras, Collective Unavoidable Background

The Four Spent the Day Together is divided into three sections, covering several time periods – each trapped by their histories. There is the tale of characters Emma and Jasper, representations of Kraus's parents, relocating from the urban environment to the Connecticut countryside. Then there is the narrative of the author, in the persona of a figure named Catt Greene, reckoning with the late recognition of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her partner struggling with addiction a man named Paul. And there is the narrative of a homicide of one lost young man by another in a community long abandoned by progressive politics only 80 miles from the protagonist's home in rural Minnesota.

As a reader drawn to refined literature of the type the author herself often avoids, I was enchanted by the novelistic voice of the initial segment.

Being a reader drawn to crafted language of the style that the author usually avoids, I was won over by the novelistic voice of the initial part. It exhibits a new quality of attentiveness that allows space for minutiae, like the pail that the protagonist as a child frees from the ice at the start of the story, aided by her beloved father. "Look, an ice toy!" she exclaims; "a nice toy", he answers, "the ambiguous meanings of language circulating in their speech like hard candy". She tells Emma's narrative 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 last out the book. The author states here that she resents the satisfaction readers like me have gotten from I Love Dick; she's devoted to fragmentation, to the messy artistic approach she shares with her hero writer Kathy Acker, and the void and recurrence of her past books comes back in the central part. Catt Greene is trying to renovate 36 run-down apartments in the city's most challenging districts while traveling between the Midwest and the West Coast, unable to aid Paul curb his addiction. She is overwhelmed as Paul cycles through underfunded jobs as an addiction therapist in a society propelled by the hostility and dread that drives an electoral success. Multiple pages are devoted about Catt being cancelled on a platform, her professional designation altered from "writer" to "real estate holder" on a reference site. She still gives the impression to invest excessive emotion about this. On one occasion she says that she's looking into the killing so that before exiting the region, "she may grasp something about an the United States that her Twitter detractors would not understand, would not even perceive".

The Murder Narrative

Then we reach to the homicide in question – and the referenced day spent by the deceased with the perpetrator and his friends. The author possesses excellent raw material, and details moment by moment what transpired when the victim Brandon came to see Brittney after connecting via an application where she offered adult photos. He was hoping for sex but seems affably to have spent the day with her companions, mooching around getting his car mended and funding treats and narcotics, before being killed by gunfire by Brittney's boyfriend Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has often been institutionalized for aggressive outbursts.

Preoccupation and Open Ends

Catt develops an obsession by the narrative, and I was intrigued by the way that Kraus's dual urges towards ethical reporting and audacious rule-breaking tussle in this section. But I'd have liked her to go further into her personal fixations here. The compelling persona is Brittney herself, who comes alive partially because of Catt's identification with her – another bright, bullied girl going off the rails in a difficult, overlooked locality. Kraus notes that Catt converses with Brittney in detention, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. This entire part feels curiously unresolved, to the extent that the author's storytelling ends almost mid-par

Haley Davis
Haley Davis

A passionate storyteller and cultural enthusiast with a background in anthropology and journalism.