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The Four Spent the Day Together features protagonists seeking new beginnings, trying to break free from addictions or abusive marriages, only to see hope turn into aggression. Chris Kraus frequently uses the phrase "fresh start", transforming it into intentionally weary through constant reiteration. Phrases such as "He aimed to start over" and "They chose to begin anew" are scattered across the narrative. At the same time, the author herself is embarking on her own fresh start, because this seems a different type of work – observational, authentically narrative. But then it reveals itself to be laden with the recurring issues and approaches as her previous works.

From Chance Novelist to Cult Classic

The writer started out as an artist who became a writer somewhat by chance with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, structured as missives to a distant beloved, elevating intimate women's literature from abjection into defiance. She persisted as a writer, but the following three fascinating and rebarbative novels did not possess the impact and rawness that the letter form 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 much discussion on housing investments. It follows that she currently desires to explore fresh narrative sources, turning outward to other people's stories, at a moment when she claims that Trumpian politics turns intimate literature obsolete.

Multiple Generations, Shared Inescapable History

The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, encompassing three generations – all unable to escape their histories. We encounter the narrative about a couple named Emma and Jasper, representations of Kraus's parents, moving from the New York borough to rural Connecticut. There is the account of Kraus, in the guise of a figure named Catt Greene, grappling with the delayed acclaim of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her partner struggling with addiction a man named Paul. Finally the account of a killing of one troubled youth by another in a town mostly forsaken by progressive politics only 80 miles from the protagonist's home in rural Minnesota.

For this reader fond of refined literature of the type the author herself often avoids, I was enchanted by the narrative style of the first section.

As someone who reads who favors honed writing of the variety that Kraus often disregards, I was captivated by the storytelling approach of the first section. It exhibits a novel degree of detail that accommodates trivial aspects, like the container that the youthful Catt frees from the ice at the beginning of the narrative, assisted by her cherished parent. "I found an ice toy!" she says; "a great plaything", he replies, "the ambiguous meanings of language tumbling in their mouths like sweet treats". She tells the tale of Emma with inquiry and familiarity. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream – not hers, exactly."

Letdown and Fragmentation

I was bound to become frustrated when I wished this different style could persist to the end. The author states here that she resents the pleasure audiences such as myself have derived from I Love Dick; she's dedicated to fragmentation, to the unpolished style she echoes from her idol writer Kathy Acker, and the blankness and repetitiveness of her earlier works returns in the central part. The protagonist is working on refurbishing three dozen dilapidated units in the most troubled areas of Albuquerque while traveling between the Midwest and the West Coast, unsuccessful in assisting Paul control his drinking. She is overwhelmed as Paul cycles through underfunded jobs as an recovery specialist in a society fueled by the hostility and dread that drives Trump's victory. There are several pages about Catt's social media ostracism on Twitter, her occupation changed from "novelist" to "property owner" on a reference site. She still gives the impression to be overly concerned about this. On one occasion she says that she's researching the homicide so that before exiting the region, "she may grasp something about an the United States that her Twitter detractors would fail to comprehend, would not even perceive".

The Homicide Account

Thus we arrive to the murder itself – and the referenced day passed by the deceased with the killer and his friends. Kraus has excellent raw material, and reconstructs step by step what happened when the victim Brandon came to visit Brittney after connecting via an application where she sold sex pictures. He anticipated intimacy but seems affably to have spent the day in the company of her associates, wandering about fixing his automobile and covering the cost of food and substances, before being killed by gunfire by Brittney's boyfriend Micah – a individual with mental health challenges who has repeatedly received inpatient care for violent rage.

Fascination and Incompletion

The protagonist becomes fixated by the account, and I was fascinated by the way that the author's conflicting impulses towards responsible documentation and daring boundary-pushing tussle in this section. However, I would have preferred her to go further into her personal fixations here. The standout figure is Brittney herself, who comes alive in part due to the protagonist's connection to her – yet another intelligent, harassed young woman spiraling out of control in a difficult, overlooked locality. Kraus notes that Catt speaks to Brittney in detention, but she omits the dramatization of these talks. The complete segment feels strangely incomplete, to the extent that Kraus's narration ends almost mid-par