This latest work centers on individuals pursuing new beginnings, trying to break free from drugs or toxic relationships, only to witness hope devolve into conflict. The author often employs the phrase "new beginning", making it deliberately jaded through constant reiteration. Examples include "He aimed to start over" and "They opted for a clean break" recur in the text. Meanwhile, the author herself appears to be undertaking her own fresh start, because this appears a different type of work – observational, truly literary. Yet it turns out to be laden with the familiar conflicts and approaches as her previous works.
Kraus was originally an visual artist who transitioned to writing unintentionally with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, made up of missives to a distant beloved, transforming personal female narrative from self-debasement into rebellion. She kept producing books, but the following three engaging and challenging novels did not possess the power and directness that the epistolary style infused into the voice of I Love Dick. This was not aided by was her identity as a nonconformist creator who had turned into a large-scale low-rent landlord, so there was much discussion on housing investments. It follows that she presently aims to try out different types of content, directing her gaze to external narratives, at a moment when she asserts that Trumpian politics makes confessional writing obsolete.
The Four Spent the Day Together is organized into a trio of segments, spanning multiple eras – all unable to escape their pasts. There is the story of a couple named Emma and Jasper, representations of her own mother and father, moving from the New York borough to a pastoral setting. Then there is the account of Kraus, in the character of Catt Greene, grappling with the belated success of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her partner struggling with addiction a man named Paul. And there is the story of the murder of one lost young man by another in a locality largely deserted by forward-thinking policies only 80 miles from Catt's cottage in a remote part of Minnesota.
From my perspective as a reader attracted to refined literature of the sort Kraus typically rejects, I was seduced by the literary tone of the initial segment.
As a reader who appreciates crafted language of the variety that Kraus often disregards, I was seduced by the literary tone of the opening segment. It exhibits a new quality of attentiveness that accommodates minutiae, like the pail that the young Catt frees from the ice at the beginning of the narrative, helped by her adored dad. "Look, an ice toy!" she exclaims; "a lovely toy", he answers, "the elliptical meanings of words tumbling in their mouths like sweet treats". Kraus writes Emma's narrative with inquiry and familiarity. "It seemed to Emma she had entered a dream – not entirely her own."
I was destined to be disappointed when I hoped this fresh tone could last out the book. The author states here that she is annoyed by the satisfaction readers like me have taken from I Love Dick; she's dedicated to fragmentation, to the unpolished style she shares with her inspiration writer Kathy Acker, and the void and recurrence of her past books comes back in the central part. Catt is trying to renovate three dozen dilapidated units in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while moving between two different states, failing to help Paul control his drinking. She feels helpless as Paul cycles through low-resource employment as an substance abuse counselor in a world propelled by the anger and fear that drives an electoral success. Multiple pages are devoted about Catt's social media ostracism on Twitter, her professional designation altered from "writer" to "landlord" on a reference site. Kraus still seems to care a little too much about this. At one point she says that she's looking into the killing so that before exiting the region, "she might be able to learn something about an the United States that her Twitter detractors would fail to comprehend, would overlook entirely".
So then we come to the homicide in question – and the eponymous day spent by the deceased with the perpetrator and his associates. The author possesses compelling foundational content, and knows hour by hour what occurred as Brandon came to see Brittney after encountering her on a platform where she sold sex pictures. He anticipated intimacy but appears congenially to have passed the day with her companions, loitering fixing his automobile and paying for snacks and drugs, before being shot by her romantic interest Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has frequently been hospitalised 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 tussle in this section. However, I would have preferred her to explore more thoroughly her individual preoccupations here. The most interesting character is the character Brittney, who gains dimension partially because of the protagonist's connection to her – a similarly gifted, tormented individual 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. This entire part feels oddly unfinished, to the degree that the author's storytelling ends almost mid-par