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The Four Spent the Day Together is populated with characters pursuing clean slates, attempting to leave behind substance abuse or harmful partnerships, only to see hope turn into violence. Kraus frequently uses the phrase "clean slate", transforming it into deliberately jaded through its repetitions. Sentences like "He was ready for a new beginning" and "They opted for a clean break" are scattered across the narrative. Meanwhile, Kraus herself is embarking on her own fresh start, because this appears a different type of work – documentarian, genuinely novelistic. Yet it reveals itself to be packed with the familiar conflicts and approaches as her previous works.

From Chance Novelist to Iconic Work

Kraus began as an artist who transitioned to writing unintentionally with her 1997 cult classic I Love Dick, structured as letters to an unreceptive lover, converting intimate women's literature from self-debasement into rebellion. She kept producing books, but the three subsequent compelling and abrasive novels lacked the impact and rawness that the correspondence format imparted to the voice of I Love Dick. It didn't help was her identity as a maverick maker who had turned into a large-scale low-rent landlord, so there was considerable focus on housing investments. It is logical that she now wants to try out new kinds of material, directing her gaze to external narratives, at a moment when she states that contemporary political climate turns intimate literature obsolete.

Multiple Generations, Collective Unavoidable Background

The Four Spent the Day Together is divided into three sections, encompassing multiple eras – each trapped by their pasts. The book includes the narrative about characters Emma and Jasper, versions of her own mother and father, transitioning from the Bronx to rural Connecticut. Then there is the narrative of the author, in the guise of protagonist Catt Greene, grappling with the delayed acclaim of I Love Dick, the emergence of Trump, and her partner struggling with addiction a man named Paul. And there is the account of a killing of one directionless individual by another in a locality mostly forsaken by progressive politics only 80 miles from Catt's rural residence in rural Minnesota.

As a reader drawn to polished prose of the type Kraus herself typically rejects, I was captivated by the literary tone of the opening part.

Being a reader who appreciates crafted language of the kind that the author tends to eschew, I was won over by the storytelling approach of the opening segment. It exhibits a new quality of attentiveness that accommodates small details, like the bucket that the youthful Catt pries out of frozen water at the start of the story, assisted by her beloved father. "I discovered a frozen plaything!" she exclaims; "a nice toy", he replies, "the nuanced interpretations of terms rolling around in their mouths like hard candy". She tells the tale of Emma with curiosity and intimacy. "It seemed to Emma she had entered a dream – not hers, exactly."

Letdown and Fragmentation

I was destined to be disappointed when I hoped this new voice could continue through the novel. The author states here that she dislikes the satisfaction those who appreciate polished prose have gotten from I Love Dick; she's dedicated to fragmentation, to the untidy aesthetics she echoes from her hero writer Kathy Acker, and the blankness and repetitiveness of her previous novels returns in the middle section. Catt is working on refurbishing three dozen dilapidated units in the city's most challenging districts while traveling between the Midwest and the West Coast, unsuccessful in assisting Paul manage his alcohol use. She feels helpless as Paul transitions between underfunded jobs as an recovery specialist in a environment fueled by the rage and anxiety that powers Trump's victory. Multiple pages are devoted about Catt being cancelled on social media, her listed profession modified from "writer" to "property owner" on Wikipedia. She still gives the impression to care a little too much about this. On one occasion she remarks that she's researching the homicide so that before leaving Minnesota, "she may grasp something about an the United States that her Twitter detractors would be unable to grasp, would not even perceive".

The Homicide Account

So then we come to the homicide in question – and the referenced day spent by the deceased with the killer and his associates. Kraus utilizes great source material, and knows hour by hour what occurred as Brandon came to meet Brittney after encountering her on a platform where she offered adult photos. He was hoping for sex but seems amiably to have occupied the day alongside her friends, loitering fixing his automobile and funding treats and narcotics, before being killed by gunfire by her romantic interest a man named Micah – a young, mentally ill man who has repeatedly received inpatient care for aggressive outbursts.

Fascination and Incompletion

Catt develops an obsession by the narrative, and I was fascinated by the way that Kraus's dual urges towards ethical reporting and daring boundary-pushing wrestle in this part. Yet I wished her to delve deeper into her personal fixations here. The standout figure is Brittney herself, who becomes vivid partly through the protagonist's connection to her – yet another intelligent, harassed young woman derailing in a struggling, neglected community. The author informs us that Catt converses with Brittney in prison, but she omits the dramatization of these talks. The whole section feels oddly unfinished, to the degree that Kraus's narration ends almost mid-par