The new book is populated with protagonists pursuing clean slates, trying to break free from drugs or toxic relationships, only to find hope curdling into aggression. Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "clean slate", transforming it into intentionally weary through constant reiteration. Examples include "He aimed to start over" and "They opted for a clean break" are scattered across the story. Meanwhile, the author herself seems to be making her personal new beginning, as this seems a different type of work – documentarian, genuinely novelistic. However it turns out to be laden with the familiar conflicts and styles as earlier books.
The writer started out as an visual artist who entered the literary world somewhat by chance with her 1997 groundbreaking book I Love Dick, structured as missives to a distant beloved, elevating confessional female writing from self-debasement into rebellion. She kept producing books, but the three subsequent fascinating and rebarbative novels did not possess the power and directness that the letter form infused into the tone of I Love Dick. Compounding this was her position as a renegade artist who had evolved into a extensive real estate holder, so there was much discussion on housing investments. It makes sense that she presently aims to try out new kinds of material, looking outwards to the experiences of others, at a moment when she claims that contemporary political climate turns intimate literature unnecessary.
The Four Spent the Day Together is divided into three sections, covering multiple eras – each trapped by their backgrounds. We encounter the story of Emma and Jasper, representations of her own mother and father, transitioning from the New York borough to the Connecticut countryside. Additionally the narrative of the author, in the guise of a figure named Catt Greene, grappling with the delayed acclaim of I Love Dick, the emergence of Trump, and her substance-dependent spouse a man named Paul. Finally the account of a killing of one lost young man by another in a locality largely deserted by progressive politics only a short distance from the protagonist's home in a remote part of Minnesota.
For this reader attracted to polished prose of the sort the author herself tends to eschew, I was enchanted by the narrative style of the initial segment.
Being a reader who appreciates precise prose of the style that the author tends to eschew, I was captivated by the novelistic voice of the initial part. It exhibits a novel degree of detail that allows space for trivial aspects, like the pail that the youthful Catt dislodges from ice at the opening of the book, aided by her beloved father. "I discovered a frozen plaything!" she exclaims; "a lovely toy", he replies, "the elliptical meanings of words rolling around in their mouths like piece candy". She tells the tale of Emma with inquiry and familiarity. "Emma experienced a dreamlike sensation – not precisely her dream."
I was bound to become frustrated when I expected this different style could persist to the end. Kraus says here that she dislikes the satisfaction readers like me have taken from I Love Dick; she's committed to disruption, to the untidy aesthetics she shares with her inspiration author Kathy Acker, and the emptiness and redundancy of her earlier works returns in the central part. The protagonist is trying to renovate 36 run-down apartments in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while shuttling between the Midwest and the West Coast, unable to aid her husband manage his alcohol use. She is overwhelmed as her spouse cycles through poorly supported positions as an addiction therapist in a world fueled by the rage and anxiety that underpins Trump's victory. Multiple pages are devoted about the protagonist facing cancellation on Twitter, her listed profession modified from "author" to "property owner" on Wikipedia. The author still appears to be overly concerned about this. In a moment she states that she's researching the homicide so that before leaving Minnesota, "she might be able to learn something about an the nation that her online critics would not understand, would not even see".
Thus we arrive to the actual killing – and the titular day experienced by the murdered individual with the perpetrator and his associates. The author possesses excellent raw material, and knows hour by hour what occurred as a man named Brandon came to meet Brittney after encountering her on a platform where she marketed explicit images. He was hoping for sex but seems amiably to have occupied the day in the company of her associates, loitering getting his car mended and funding treats and narcotics, before being murdered by her romantic interest Micah – a individual with mental health challenges who has often been institutionalized for aggressive outbursts.
Catt develops an obsession by the narrative, and I found myself captivated by the way that the author's conflicting impulses towards ethical reporting and audacious rule-breaking tussle in this section. But I'd have liked her to go further into her personal fixations here. The compelling persona is Brittney herself, who gains dimension in part due to Catt seeing herself in her – a similarly gifted, tormented individual spiraling out of control in a difficult, overlooked locality. Kraus notes that the protagonist communicates with Brittney in prison, but she fails to enact these dialogues. The whole section feels curiously unresolved, to the extent that her narrative ends almost mid-par
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