A Look at The Four Spent the Day Together by Chris Kraus – A Cult Writer Explores Something New

The new book features protagonists chasing after fresh starts, trying to break free from addictions or toxic relationships, only to find hope curdling into conflict. The author repeatedly invokes the phrase "clean slate", transforming it into intentionally weary through recurring use. Sentences like "He aimed to start over" and "They opted for a clean break" are scattered across the text. At the same time, she seems to be making her individual reinvention, because this presents as a different type of work – documentarian, authentically narrative. But then it reveals itself to be laden with the same dilemmas and styles as her previous works.

From Accidental Writer to Cult Classic

Kraus started out as an artist who became a writer unintentionally with her 1997 seminal work I Love Dick, structured as letters to an unreceptive lover, converting personal female narrative from self-debasement into rebellion. She persisted as a writer, but the next trio of compelling and abrasive novels missed the power and directness that the epistolary style infused into the voice of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her identity as a renegade artist who had turned into a major property owner, so there was much discussion on property transactions. It makes sense that she presently aims to experiment with fresh narrative sources, turning outward to other people's stories, at a period in which she asserts that Trumpian politics makes confessional writing unnecessary.

Three Generations, Collective Unavoidable Background

The Four Spent the Day Together is structured in three parts, encompassing three generations – all unable to escape their pasts. We encounter the tale of Emma and Jasper, representations of Kraus's parents, relocating from the New York borough to a pastoral setting. There is the narrative of the author, in the persona of protagonist Catt Greene, confronting the belated success of I Love Dick, the ascent of a political figure, and her addict husband a man named Paul. And there is the account of a killing of one directionless individual by another in a town mostly forsaken by forward-thinking policies only a short distance from Catt's rural residence in a remote part of Minnesota.

As a reader fond of polished prose of the type the author herself often avoids, I was enchanted by the literary tone of the first section.

Being a reader who favors precise prose of the style that the author tends to eschew, I was captivated by the literary tone of the initial part. It possesses a new quality of attentiveness that accommodates small details, like the pail that the youthful Catt frees from the ice at the beginning of the narrative, helped by her adored dad. "Look, an ice toy!" she exclaims; "a great plaything", he replies, "the nuanced interpretations of terms tumbling in their mouths like sweet treats". She tells the tale of Emma with interest and closeness. "It seemed to Emma she had entered a dream – not entirely her own."

Frustration and Disruption

I was bound to become frustrated when I expected this new voice could last out the book. Kraus says here that she resents the enjoyment those who appreciate polished prose have derived from I Love Dick; she's dedicated to disjunction, to the messy artistic approach she has in common with her inspiration Kathy Acker, and the void and recurrence of her past books reasserts itself in the central part. The protagonist is attempting to do up multiple decrepit residences in the most troubled areas of Albuquerque while traveling between the Midwest and the West Coast, failing to help Paul manage his alcohol use. She is overwhelmed as her spouse moves between underfunded jobs as an recovery specialist in a society driven by the anger and fear that underpins Trump's victory. A significant portion discusses about the protagonist facing cancellation on Twitter, her professional designation altered from "writer" to "real estate holder" on a reference site. Kraus still seems to care a little too much about this. At one point she states that she's researching the homicide so that before departing the state, "she may grasp something about an the nation that her Twitter detractors would not understand, would not even see".

The Homicide Account

Thus we arrive to the murder itself – and the titular day passed by the murdered individual with the murderer and his companions. Kraus has great source material, and reconstructs step by step what transpired when Brandon came to meet Brittney after connecting via an application where she marketed explicit images. He anticipated intimacy but appears congenially to have passed the day alongside her friends, wandering about getting his car mended and covering the cost of food and substances, before being shot by Brittney's partner a man named Micah – a individual with mental health challenges who has repeatedly received inpatient care for aggressive outbursts.

Preoccupation and Open Ends

Catt develops an obsession by the account, and I was fascinated by the way that Kraus's dual urges towards ethical reporting and reckless transgression wrestle in this part. Yet I wished her to delve deeper into her individual preoccupations here. The compelling persona is Brittney, who gains dimension in part due to Catt's identification with her – a similarly gifted, tormented individual derailing in a difficult, overlooked locality. Kraus tells us that Catt converses with Brittney in prison, but she fails to enact these dialogues. This entire part feels strangely incomplete, to the point that Kraus's narration ends almost mid-par

Shelley Cole
Shelley Cole

An audio engineer and passionate sound designer with over a decade of experience in creating immersive auditory environments.