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The Four Spent the Day Together is populated with characters pursuing fresh starts, attempting to leave behind addictions or abusive marriages, only to see hope turn into conflict. Kraus repeatedly invokes the phrase "fresh start", rendering it intentionally weary through its repetitions. Phrases such as "He was ready for a new beginning" and "They decided to make a fresh start" are scattered across the narrative. Meanwhile, the author herself seems to be making her own fresh start, because this seems a different type of work – observational, genuinely novelistic. But then it turns out to be filled with the familiar conflicts and approaches as past novels.

From Chance Novelist to Renowned Book

Chris Kraus started out as an creative who transitioned to writing unintentionally with her 1997 groundbreaking book I Love Dick, made up of letters to an unreceptive lover, elevating personal female narrative from self-debasement into rebellion. She continued writing, but the three subsequent compelling and abrasive novels missed the impact and rawness that the letter form infused into the voice of I Love Dick. It didn't help was her identity as a maverick maker who had evolved into a extensive real estate holder, so there was significant attention on property transactions. It is logical that she presently aims to explore new kinds of material, directing her gaze to external narratives, at a moment when she states that contemporary political climate makes confessional writing unnecessary.

Several Eras, One Unescapable Past

The Four Spent the Day Together is divided into three sections, covering three generations – none able to break free from their histories. There is the narrative about characters Emma and Jasper, representations of Kraus's parents, moving from the New York borough to the Connecticut countryside. Additionally the account of Kraus, in the character of a figure named Catt Greene, confronting the delayed acclaim of I Love Dick, the ascent of a political figure, and her substance-dependent spouse her husband Paul. The third thread involves the account of a killing of one troubled youth 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.

For this reader drawn to refined literature of the sort Kraus herself tends to eschew, I was enchanted by the narrative style of the first section.

As someone who reads who favors honed writing of the style that Kraus herself usually avoids, I was won over by the storytelling approach of the initial part. It exhibits a fresh level of observation that makes room for small details, like the bucket that the youthful Catt pries out of frozen water at the beginning of the narrative, helped by her beloved father. "Look, an ice toy!" she declares; "a great plaything", he answers, "the elliptical meanings of words rolling around in their mouths like hard candy". The author narrates Emma's story with inquiry and familiarity. "Emma felt like she'd stepped into a dream – not precisely her dream."

Disappointment and Disjunction

I was destined to be disappointed when I hoped this fresh tone could last out the book. Kraus says here that she resents the enjoyment those who appreciate polished prose have derived from I Love Dick; she's committed to fragmentation, to the unpolished style she shares with her hero Kathy Acker, and the blankness and repetitiveness of her previous novels reasserts itself in the second segment. Catt is trying to renovate 36 run-down apartments in Albuquerque's worst neighbourhoods while moving between two different states, unsuccessful in assisting Paul control his drinking. She experiences powerlessness as Paul cycles through poorly supported positions as an substance abuse counselor in a environment propelled by the hostility and dread that underpins an electoral success. There are several pages about the protagonist facing cancellation on social media, her occupation changed from "author" to "property owner" on Wikipedia. She still gives the impression to care a little too much about this. On one occasion she says that she's researching the homicide so that before departing the state, "she could potentially understand something about an the United States that her Twitter detractors would fail to comprehend, would not even perceive".

The Murder Narrative

So then we come to the homicide in question – and the referenced day spent by the deceased with the perpetrator and his associates. Kraus utilizes excellent raw material, and knows hour by hour what transpired when Brandon came to see Brittney after meeting her on an app where she sold sex pictures. He was hoping for sex but seems amiably to have occupied the day alongside her friends, loitering having his vehicle repaired and funding treats and narcotics, before being killed by gunfire by Brittney's boyfriend Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has often been institutionalized for violent rage.

Obsession and Unfinished Business

The protagonist becomes fixated by the narrative, and I found myself captivated by the way that Kraus's dual urges towards responsible documentation and audacious rule-breaking clash in this segment. However, I would have preferred her to delve deeper into her own obsessions here. The compelling persona is Brittney, who gains dimension in part due to Catt's identification with her – yet another intelligent, harassed young woman spiraling out of control in a struggling, neglected community. Kraus notes that Catt converses with Brittney in prison, but she doesn't dramatise these conversations. The complete segment feels oddly unfinished, to the extent that Kraus's narration ends almost mid-par