Alex is a seasoned gamer and journalist who has covered London's gaming scene for over a decade.
The new book features individuals seeking fresh starts, struggling to escape substance abuse or harmful partnerships, only to find hope curdling into conflict. Chris Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "clean slate", rendering it willfully cynical through recurring use. Sentences like "He was ready for a new beginning" and "They opted for a clean break" recur in the text. Meanwhile, the author herself appears to be undertaking her individual reinvention, as this seems a novel form of writing – observational, authentically narrative. Yet it proves to be filled with the familiar conflicts and styles as her previous works.
Chris Kraus began as an visual artist who became a writer almost accidentally with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, made up of epistles to an unresponsive love interest, converting confessional female writing from self-debasement into rebellion. She kept producing books, but the three subsequent compelling and abrasive novels lacked the shock and immediacy that the epistolary style brought to the voice of I Love Dick. It didn't help was her identity as a renegade artist who had become a extensive real estate holder, so there was considerable focus on housing investments. It follows that she presently aims to explore fresh narrative sources, turning outward to the experiences of others, at a time when she asserts that contemporary political climate makes confessional writing obsolete.
The Four Spent the Day Together is divided into three sections, encompassing several time periods – each trapped by their histories. The book includes the tale of a couple named Emma and Jasper, based on her own mother and father, relocating from the urban environment to the Connecticut countryside. Additionally the story of Kraus herself, in the character of a figure named Catt Greene, confronting the belated success of I Love Dick, the rise of Trump, and her addict husband her husband Paul. Finally the account of a killing of one troubled youth by another in a town largely deserted by progressive politics only a brief drive from Catt's rural residence in a remote part of Minnesota.
As a reader fond of polished prose of the type the author herself often avoids, I was captivated by the narrative style of the opening part.
As someone who reads who favors precise prose of the variety that Kraus herself usually avoids, I was seduced by the novelistic voice of the opening segment. It possesses a fresh level of observation that accommodates small details, like the container that the protagonist as a child pries out of frozen water at the opening of the book, aided by her adored dad. "I discovered a frozen plaything!" she declares; "a great plaything", he replies, "the ambiguous meanings of language rolling around in their mouths like sweet treats". Kraus writes Emma's narrative with curiosity and intimacy. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream – not entirely her own."
I was bound to become frustrated when I hoped this different style could persist to the end. Kraus says here that she dislikes the satisfaction audiences such as myself have gotten from I Love Dick; she's dedicated to disjunction, to the messy artistic approach she has in common with her hero writer Kathy Acker, and the void and recurrence of her past books returns in the central part. Catt is working on refurbishing 36 run-down apartments in the city's most challenging districts while traveling between the Midwest and the West Coast, unable to aid Paul manage his alcohol use. She feels helpless as Paul transitions between poorly supported positions as an recovery specialist in a world fueled by the anger and fear that drives Trump's victory. Multiple pages are devoted about the protagonist facing cancellation on Twitter, her professional designation altered from "novelist" to "property owner" on the online encyclopedia. She still gives the impression to be overly concerned about this. On one occasion she remarks that she's researching the homicide 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 see".
Thus we arrive to the murder itself – and the eponymous day passed by the deceased with the murderer and his friends. Kraus has excellent raw material, and details moment by moment what transpired when the victim Brandon came to see Brittney after connecting via an application where she marketed explicit images. He sought a sexual encounter but appears congenially to have passed the day with her companions, loitering fixing his automobile and covering the cost of food and substances, before being murdered by her romantic interest Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has repeatedly received inpatient care for aggressive outbursts.
Catt develops an obsession by the story, and I found myself captivated by the way that her twin drives towards responsible documentation and daring boundary-pushing tussle in this section. But I'd have liked her to explore more thoroughly her own obsessions here. The most interesting character is Brittney herself, who comes alive partly through Catt's identification with her – another bright, bullied girl spiraling out of control in a troubled, forgotten town. The author informs us that Catt speaks to Brittney in prison, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. The whole section feels curiously unresolved, to the extent that her narrative ends almost mid-par
Alex is a seasoned gamer and journalist who has covered London's gaming scene for over a decade.