The Four Spent the Day Together centers on protagonists chasing after new beginnings, struggling to escape drugs or abusive marriages, only to see hope turn into conflict. Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "new beginning", rendering it willfully cynical through constant reiteration. Sentences like "He was ready for a new beginning" and "They chose to begin anew" recur in the narrative. At the same time, she is embarking on her individual reinvention, because this appears a new kind of book – fact-based, truly literary. But then it turns out to be laden with the recurring issues and approaches as past novels.
Kraus began as an visual artist who became a writer somewhat by chance with her 1997 seminal work I Love Dick, which was composed of missives to a distant beloved, elevating personal female narrative from self-debasement into assassination. She kept producing books, but the next trio of fascinating and rebarbative novels missed the shock and immediacy that the epistolary style brought to the voice of I Love Dick. This was not aided by was her identity as a renegade artist who had turned into a large-scale low-rent landlord, so there was considerable focus on housing investments. It is logical that she presently aims to explore new kinds of material, looking outwards to other people's stories, at a time when she asserts that Trumpian politics turns intimate literature redundant.
The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, spanning three generations – none able to break free from their histories. We encounter the story of Emma and Jasper, versions of her own mother and father, relocating from the New York borough to the Connecticut countryside. Additionally the narrative of the author, in the guise of Catt Greene, reckoning with the delayed acclaim of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her addict husband her husband Paul. The third thread involves the story of the murder of one lost young man by another in a locality largely deserted by forward-thinking policies only a short distance from the protagonist's home in a remote part of Minnesota.
As a reader attracted to refined literature of the sort Kraus herself typically rejects, I was seduced by the novelistic voice of the opening part.
As a reader who favors crafted language of the kind that Kraus herself tends to eschew, I was seduced by the literary tone of the initial part. It possesses a new quality of attentiveness that allows space for minutiae, like the bucket that the protagonist as a child dislodges from ice at the opening of the book, assisted by her cherished parent. "I discovered a frozen plaything!" she says; "a lovely toy", he responds, "the ambiguous meanings of language circulating in their speech like piece candy". The author narrates Emma's narrative with inquiry and familiarity. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream – not hers, exactly."
I was destined to be disappointed when I wished this fresh tone could continue through the novel. Kraus says here that she dislikes the pleasure readers like me have gotten from I Love Dick; she's committed to disjunction, to the untidy aesthetics she shares with her idol Kathy Acker, and the emptiness and redundancy of her past books reasserts itself in the second segment. Catt Greene is attempting to do up 36 run-down apartments in the city's most challenging districts while traveling between Minnesota and LA, unable to aid her husband control his drinking. She is overwhelmed as Paul cycles through underfunded jobs as an addiction therapist in a society propelled by the rage and anxiety that underpins a political win. There are several pages about Catt's social media ostracism on Twitter, her listed profession modified from "writer" to "real estate holder" on Wikipedia. She still gives the impression to be overly concerned about this. In a moment she says that she's investigating the murder so that before departing the state, "she might be able to learn something about an the United States that her social media opponents would fail to comprehend, would overlook entirely".
So then we come to the actual killing – and the titular day experienced by the deceased with the perpetrator and his friends. Kraus utilizes great source material, and details moment by moment what occurred as a man named Brandon came to visit Brittney after meeting her on an app where she marketed explicit images. He was hoping for sex but appears congenially to have passed the day with her companions, wandering about fixing his automobile and paying for snacks and drugs, before being murdered by Brittney's boyfriend Micah – a individual with mental health challenges who has often been institutionalized for aggressive outbursts.
The protagonist becomes fixated by the account, and I was fascinated by the way that the author's conflicting impulses towards responsible documentation and audacious rule-breaking clash in this segment. However, I would have preferred her to explore more thoroughly her individual preoccupations here. The compelling persona is Brittney, who gains dimension in part due to Catt's identification with her – another bright, bullied girl going off the rails in a struggling, neglected community. The author informs us that Catt speaks to Brittney in detention, but she omits the dramatization of these talks. The whole section feels oddly unfinished, to the point that her narrative ends almost mid-par