The Four Spent the Day Together is populated with individuals seeking new beginnings, attempting to leave behind addictions or toxic relationships, only to find hope curdling into aggression. The author repeatedly invokes the phrase "new beginning", transforming it into deliberately jaded through recurring use. Examples include "He aimed to start over" and "They opted for a clean break" appear throughout the text. At the same time, Kraus herself appears to be undertaking her own fresh start, as this appears a novel form of writing – fact-based, truly literary. However it proves to be filled with the familiar conflicts and approaches as earlier books.
The writer began as an creative who became a writer almost accidentally with her 1997 seminal work I Love Dick, made up of letters to an unreceptive lover, elevating personal female narrative from humiliation into assassination. She persisted as a writer, but the three subsequent fascinating and rebarbative novels lacked the shock and immediacy that the letter form infused into the voice of I Love Dick. It didn't help was her position as a renegade artist who had evolved into a major property owner, so there was much discussion on real estate deals. It makes sense that she presently aims to try out different types of content, directing her gaze to external narratives, at a period in which she claims that contemporary political climate turns intimate literature obsolete.
The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, covering several time periods – none able to break free from their backgrounds. The book includes the story of Emma and Jasper, representations of Kraus's parents, moving from the New York borough to rural Connecticut. There is the story of Kraus herself, in the character of a figure named Catt Greene, confronting the belated success of I Love Dick, the emergence of Trump, and her partner struggling with addiction Paul. The third thread involves the narrative of a homicide of one directionless individual by another in a town largely deserted by liberal ideals only a short distance from the protagonist's home in a remote part of Minnesota.
As a reader drawn to refined literature of the kind Kraus tends to eschew, I was enchanted by the novelistic voice of the opening part.
As someone who reads who appreciates crafted language of the variety that Kraus often disregards, I was won over by the novelistic voice of the opening segment. There is a fresh level of observation that allows space for small details, like the bucket that the young Catt pries out of frozen water at the beginning of the narrative, aided by her cherished parent. "I found an ice toy!" she says; "a nice toy", he replies, "the nuanced interpretations of terms tumbling in their mouths like hard candy". The author narrates Emma's narrative with inquiry and familiarity. "It seemed to Emma she had entered a dream – not entirely her own."
I was bound to become frustrated when I expected this new voice could persist to the end. Kraus says here that she is annoyed by the enjoyment audiences such as myself have gotten from I Love Dick; she's devoted to fragmentation, to the messy artistic approach she shares with her hero Kathy Acker, and the blankness and repetitiveness of her past books reasserts itself in the second segment. The protagonist is working on refurbishing three dozen dilapidated units in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while shuttling between two different states, unsuccessful in assisting Paul manage his alcohol use. She is overwhelmed as Paul transitions between poorly supported positions as an addiction therapist in a environment driven by the anger and fear that powers Trump's victory. A significant portion discusses about Catt being cancelled on a platform, her occupation changed from "novelist" to "landlord" on Wikipedia. Kraus still seems 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 America that her online critics would be unable to grasp, would not even perceive".
So then we come to the murder itself – and the referenced day spent by the victim with the perpetrator and his companions. Kraus has excellent raw material, and details moment by moment what transpired when a man named Brandon came to visit Brittney after connecting via an application where she sold sex pictures. He anticipated intimacy but appears congenially to have passed the day alongside her friends, wandering about getting his car mended and paying for snacks and drugs, before being killed by gunfire by Brittney's partner Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has frequently been hospitalised for fits of anger.
Catt gets obsessed by the account, and I found myself captivated by the way that Kraus's dual urges towards ethical reporting and audacious rule-breaking clash in this segment. But I'd have liked her to delve deeper into her individual preoccupations here. The most interesting character is the character Brittney, who becomes vivid partially because of Catt's identification with her – yet another intelligent, harassed young woman going off the rails in a troubled, forgotten town. Kraus notes that Catt speaks to Brittney in detention, but she omits the dramatization of these talks. This entire part feels strangely incomplete, to the degree that the author's storytelling ends almost mid-par
Marcus Sterling is a financial analyst specializing in precious metals, with over 15 years of experience in global markets and investment strategies.