This latest work centers on protagonists chasing after fresh starts, struggling to escape substance abuse or harmful partnerships, only to witness hope devolve into conflict. The author repeatedly invokes the phrase "fresh start", transforming it into deliberately jaded through its repetitions. Phrases such as "He could make a fresh start" and "They chose to begin anew" recur in the story. Meanwhile, the author herself appears to be undertaking her personal new beginning, because this seems a different type of work – observational, truly literary. Yet it reveals itself to be filled with the familiar conflicts and aesthetics as earlier books.
The writer started out as an artist who entered the literary world unintentionally with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, structured as epistles to an unresponsive love interest, elevating intimate women's literature from humiliation into defiance. She kept producing books, but the following three fascinating and rebarbative novels did not possess the power and directness that the correspondence format infused into the tone of I Love Dick. This was not aided by was her identity as a nonconformist creator who had turned into a extensive real estate holder, so there was considerable focus on property transactions. It makes sense that she now wants to try out fresh narrative sources, directing her gaze to the experiences of others, at a moment when she asserts that contemporary political climate renders personal narrative obsolete.
The Four Spent the Day Together is divided into three sections, encompassing three generations – none able to break free from their histories. We encounter the narrative about a couple named Emma and Jasper, based on her own mother and father, moving from the New York borough to rural Connecticut. There is the account of Kraus, in the character of a figure named Catt Greene, grappling with the late recognition of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her addict husband her husband Paul. The third thread involves the account of a killing of one directionless individual by another in a town largely deserted by forward-thinking policies only a short distance from the protagonist's home in the Minnesota countryside.
From my perspective as a reader attracted to polished prose of the type the author herself tends to eschew, I was captivated by the literary tone of the opening part.
Being a reader drawn to honed writing of the kind that Kraus often disregards, I was won over by the storytelling approach of the first section. There is a novel degree of detail that allows space for trivial aspects, like the pail that the young Catt pries out of frozen water at the opening of the book, helped by her adored dad. "Look, an ice toy!" she declares; "a great plaything", he answers, "the elliptical meanings of words rolling around in their mouths like sweet treats". The author narrates Emma's narrative with interest and closeness. "It seemed to Emma she had entered a dream – not entirely her own."
I was fated to feel let down when I hoped this fresh tone could persist to the end. Kraus says here that she is annoyed by the pleasure audiences such as myself have derived from I Love Dick; she's dedicated to disjunction, to the unpolished style she shares with her idol writer Kathy Acker, and the emptiness and redundancy of her past books comes back in the middle section. Catt is attempting to do up multiple decrepit residences in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while shuttling between two different states, unable to aid her husband curb his addiction. She experiences powerlessness as Paul transitions between low-resource employment as an recovery specialist in a environment propelled by the rage and anxiety that underpins an electoral success. A significant portion discusses about Catt being cancelled on Twitter, her occupation changed from "author" to "property owner" on a reference site. She still gives the impression to be overly concerned about this. On one occasion she states that she's investigating the murder so that before departing the state, "she might be able to learn something about an the nation that her Twitter detractors would be unable to grasp, would not even perceive".
Then we reach to the actual killing – and the titular day spent by the murdered individual with the perpetrator and his friends. Kraus utilizes compelling foundational content, and details moment by moment what occurred as the victim Brandon came to see Brittney after meeting her on an app where she offered adult photos. He was hoping for sex but appears congenially to have passed the day in the company of her associates, wandering about having his vehicle repaired and paying for snacks and drugs, before being killed by gunfire by her romantic interest Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has repeatedly received inpatient care for fits of anger.
Catt develops an obsession by the story, and I was intrigued by the way that Kraus's dual urges towards ethical reporting and daring boundary-pushing clash in this segment. Yet I wished her to delve deeper into her personal fixations here. The compelling persona is Brittney, who becomes vivid in part due to Catt's identification with her – yet another intelligent, harassed young woman spiraling out of control in a difficult, overlooked locality. Kraus tells us that Catt speaks to Brittney in prison, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. The whole section feels curiously unresolved, to the degree that her narrative ends almost mid-par
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