28 pages • 56 minutes read
Louise ErdrichThe Red Convertible
Fiction | Short Story | Adult | Published in 1974A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Character Analysis
Lyman Lamartine
Content Warning: This section contains references to war-related trauma and suicide.
Two Lyman Lamartines are constantly present throughout the story: the younger Lyman experiencing the events, and the older Lyman who narrates. The younger Lyman’s thoughts and feelings are still clear throughout the story, and the older Lyman often points out who he was at the time, comparing him with who he is now. On the first page, Lyman says he had a talent for making money, which is “unusual for a Chippewa” (177). This was a feature that defined him growing up, but the use of past tense implies that the older Lyman no longer has the knack. Likewise, even when his brother was serving in Vietnam, young Lyman never worried about being drafted because he “always had good luck with numbers […] But Henry was never lucky in the same way” (182). Older Lyman doesn’t share younger Lyman’s lack of worry. He is also willing and able to point out a key difference between him and his older brother—a difference that would have caused great pain to the young Lyman, who craved his brother’s attention and sought to emulate him.
Young Lyman idolizes his brother and sees him as the pinnacle of masculinity. When Henry went to war, Lyman paused the car adventures until he returned. Postwar Henry’s withdrawal causes Lyman so much pain because he loves his brother, but also because Lyman doesn’t know how to define himself separately from his brother. He makes the decision to beat up their treasured car after wallowing in his isolation, remembering that they “had always been together before. Henry and Lyman” (185). The brothers reconnect on the banks of the Red River, drinking and talking honestly, but one offhand comment from Lyman sends Henry careening toward his doom. Ultimately, Lyman’s hurt stems from the gap that the war causes between Henry and Lyman’s experiences, which is a more extreme version of the gap between someone who has grown up and someone who is still a child. Lyman’s character arc thus reflects the Coming of Age theme.
Henry Lamartine Junior
Henry is a challenging character to discern because he is extremely withholding for a long portion of the narrative. Physically, Henry has a strong nose and a big build, and prewar Henry has a balanced personality: He’s happy to impulse purchase a gorgeous Oldsmobile and take it on an aimless road trip, but he also enjoys sitting in thoughtful silence and napping under trees. The contrast with his postwar personality suggests The Trauma of War. From the story’s perspective, which is ultimately Lyman’s, a key distinguishing factor between Henry at his best and Henry at his worst is whether he can fully enjoy the present moment and the world around him. When he can enjoy a beautiful drive or a good conversation, Henry is at peace. When all he can do is watch television and vibrate ominously, he is effectively still at war.
No matter how he’s doing, Henry is somewhat impulsive. The difference is whether his impulses lead him to enjoy life and grow or to put himself in great danger. It is the combination of his disconnected, traumatized state of being and his impulsive tendencies that sends Henry into the river, although it is unclear whether he anticipates what will happen. The normal quality of his voice before he gets swept away is a complicating factor. It could signal acceptance of his fate or outright relief; his declaration before entering the water—“Got to cool me off!” (189)—could even be an excuse for Lyman, who would then not have to live with the knowledge that his brother’s death was a suicide. Everything at the river happens so fast that it’s possible not even Henry knows what he feels in that moment.
Susy
Lyman tells the reader everything they need to know about Susy in his initial description. He notices her hair “in buns around her ears” first (179). It’s a somewhat strange hairdo that anticipates her somewhat strange behavior. She’s wearing moccasins, so she may be Indigenous. Her dialogue is frank and plain, and her willingness to trust these unknown boys prefigures her intimate goodbye gesture at the end of the summer. It is a literal and a figurative letting her hair down, and the boys greet it with kindness and delight.
Susy and the boys share amiable, easygoing dispositions that enable them to grow close in just a few months. Her family seems to share this trait too. It’s through her family that we learn Henry and Lyman “look so different” from each other (180). This seems like something that would bother Lyman, but he was able to let it go with a shrug and an assurance that they “[have] the same mother, anyway” (180). Lyman and Henry’s peace while in Alaska is a testament to the power of community and connection to place. In the story, the moments with Susy are the happiest of their lives.
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By Louise Erdrich
