The event that’s detailed on its back cover...does not happen until page 182. That incident also gives the book its title, and the effect is that the first 181 pages feel rushed and summarized ... Feels more like notes for a novel than a finished product. Decades race by in the space of a few pages, there are huge gaps in the narrative and most of the novel ... It’s a sordid story, the pain and emptiness of which are underscored by Kraus’ unadorned prose. When things start coming together, it’s compelling stuff. But there’s way too much aimless wandering on the way there.
Not her best work, and it’s probably not the place to start with her. But if you’ve followed her, you’ll probably want to read it anyway, to catch the next episode, as it were, of her long semi-autobiographical project. It has its rewards ... As it percolates along, has many extra-fine moments. It contains one of the most sensitive and intricate portraits of alcoholism I’ve read in a long time.
The stories of Brittney, Evan, Micah, and Brandon are heartrending, harrowing, not unfamiliar, and certainly not singular ... The book’s final wallop is unexpected, delivered by Kraus/Catt with a cool, open hand.
The power of this novel is cumulative, the book’s three discrete sections forming not so much a sequence as a circle ... The fact that The Four Spent the Day Together is at the same time so formally inventive stands as further testament to her skill and audacity as a writer.
Another genius twist of the knife rather than a departure from her past works ... If genre-faithful true crime seeks sense in motive, Kraus is seeking those senseless systems that both produce violence and strip it of meaning ... What happens in private between Catt and her then-husband, Paul, is the emotional core of the novel ... [Kraus] takes the opportunity, yet again, to steer away from purity politics and get deeper into the muck we’re all mired in ... [One] section is jumbled; characters ramble in and out, as their family members enter and exit their lives or OD and vanish. Narrative breaks down, cars break down, social services break down.
The third and final section, where we finally delve into the Minnesota murder, is compelling, but also the weakest. Reading, one gets the impression that Kraus, after all that time and research (and no doubt grant proposals), wanted desperately for this to be the Grand Subject of her novel, found it wasn’t, then shoehorned it in anyway ... Regardless, Four is riveting throughout. Besides, I for one enjoy ambitiously imperfect books – as in this case, they’re often the most interesting.
Kraus’ writing is deliberate and hard-hitting as she lets readers draw their own conclusions about the ever-relative nature of redemption and corrupting power of capitalism.
Kraus’ deftness in planting events and swirls of thought in their respective places and times, revealing the rhythms of life with a subtle hand, transforms a series of anecdotes and a true-crime fixation into a stirring narrative of class, addiction, and the question of forgiveness in a cultural landscape increasingly hostile toward empathy and nuance. Kraus’ relentless curiosity is a gravitational force.
Ponderous ... The combination of score-settling and an artist’s search for new material makes for an awkward stab at autofiction. This fails to capture the magic of the author’s previous work.
