Lennon "Lennie" Walker

Character Analysis

Lennie is a character in transition. Right before the book opens, she experiences the most major change (and tragedy) of her life: her sister, Bailey's, sudden death. So when we meet her, her world's been rocked and she's a girl who stands on shaky ground. Her poetry, which is mostly about her life before Bailey's death, shows us what she used to be like. And in the prose parts of the story, we watch how she changes.

Lennie the Poetic Little Sister

Lennie's poems are, for the most part, glimpses into the past, a way for readers to see what her life was like before Bailey died. Sometimes Lennie writes dialogue-poetry, where each line of the poem is a line from a conversation she had in the past with her sister. In other poems, she writes about Bailey in the form of a fable. For instance:

The older girl would say: Dunk your head under a few inches, then open your
eyes and look up at the sun
The younger girl: I'll get water up my nose
The older: C'mon, do it
and so the younger girl did it
and her whole world filled with light. (6.1)

Check out Bailey's good-natured bossiness. Bailey was the openly passionate sister, fearless in the face of trying new things—or, at least, this is how Lennie saw her—while Lennie was more hesitant. She was content to follow Bailey up to the river, but scared to dunk her head in the water.

At the same time, however, it's not like Bailey really had to twist Lennie's arm to convince her—it's clear from Lennie's response to "Come on, do it," that she looks up to Bailey and trusts her. "Her whole world filled with light" shows why Lennie followed Bailey: Her sister's ideas were usually pretty good.

But little Lennie didn't have much agency or power. Doing whatever Bailey wanted to do meant Lennie was never forced to create her own fun. No wonder she was so passive prior to Bailey's death. Bailey brought the adventure, so there was no need for Lennie to be actively engaged.

We're not saying Lennie was a blind follower who never criticized Bailey or had a life of her own. A true younger sister, Lennie eye-rolled whenever Bailey fell in love, and she also had plenty of adventures with Sarah. Still, though, when Bailey was alive, Lennie's world mainly revolved around her sister.

One more thing about the poem above: Notice how comfortable Lennie is with storytelling? She writes as if she's an impartial narrator, creating distance between herself by writing in the third person and calling herself "the younger girl." What gives? We think Lennie writes this way because she's such an avid reader—she is comfortable relating to characters from one step away. To this end, she is constantly referencing fictional characters, throwing out names like Elizabeth Bennet (33.44) and Miss Havisham (34.10) as if they are her friends.

Understanding how reading-happy Lennie is explains other things about her, like why she writes poetry and scatters it all over town. Words are her way of trying to connect with the world. It also makes sense that someone who thinks about stories so much would latch onto the idea of everyone being in charge of their own story—just as she authors poems, she can also author her life. 

From Companion Pony to Racehorse

Lennie's a virtuoso musician, not to mention a pretty interesting person in general, what with her Wuthering Heights addiction and colorful vocabulary. We totally want to have a conversation with her over coffee.

That's not how Lennie sees herself, though. In her own mind, she's merely a poor imitation of Bailey. Check it:

I don't sing in my sleep
or eat the petals off flowers
or run into the rain instead of out of it.
I'm the unplugged-in one,
the sidekick-sister,
tucked into a corner of her shadow. (7.57)

This poem follows the same pattern as the previous one, where free-spirited Bailey acts passionately without thinking, and Lennie simply follows her.

But how reliable is our narrator? Remember that Lennie writes these poems—so they're not so much the objective truth as reflections of how Lennie sees the world. Other characters keep telling Lennie what an amazing musician she is, so we know she's passionate in at least one way.

When Bailey, the person her life revolves around, is suddenly gone, Lennie is forced to confront some choices she's made to keep herself in a less-than-Bailey box, like giving up on the clarinet because she was too good at it and because Juilliard was the school Bailey was trying for.

Lennie eventually gains some courage to let herself bloom. She decides to challenge her tormentor, Rachel, for first chair, and to try to go to Juilliard for college. Plus, she takes some real steps in the romance department, which brings us to…

From Lover of Books to Lover IRL

First, Lennie's attracted to all the guys at Bailey's funeral, and then she starts making out with Bailey's fiancé. And if that isn't enough confusion and heat, she falls in love with the new kid, Joe. All this from a girl whose idea of steaminess used to be reading Wuthering Heights.

Lennie practically drowns in guilt about all her romantic dalliances—it's hard to make sense of in light of her grief—but eventually, she decides most of what she's doing (though not the kissing Toby part) isn't bad. Because Bailey was unconventional and prone to falling in love, Lennie thinks, "Maybe it's just the exact inappropriate way my sister would want to be mourned by me" (31.26). Clearly, Lennie is no longer the less passionate sister. We can picture Bailey looking down from the clouds, smiling and approving of Lennie's love for Joe.

A Walker, Through and Through

After Bailey's death, Lennie withdraws from the rest of her family, a.k.a. Gram and Uncle Big. She devotes her time to keeping Bailey's memory alive with Toby (mainly by locking lips), and to attempting to finish Bailey's mission of finding their absent mother. The whole time, Gram and Uncle Big are there, asking her if she's okay, hugging her when she needs it.

Despite their steadfast support, though, Lennie doesn't really begin to heal until she finally starts paying attention to the family members who are actually with her, instead of just lamenting the loss of her sister. Even if paying attention means cutting up her copy of Wuthering Heights together:

Gram's laughing. "Well, that was unexpected." We are both out of breath, spent, and smiling giddily.

"I am related to you, aren't I?" I say. (32.23-24)

This is one of the first times Lennie and Gram share a moment. Sure, cutting up a book into a million pieces isn't necessarily textbook bonding behavior, but they have a lot of pent-up emotion to let out. And the point is they're doing it together. When Lennie says, "I am related to you," she's claiming their connection, acknowledging that her relationship with Gram is an important part of who she is.

From the beginning of the book to the end, Lennie goes from feeling alone to feeling surrounded by love—even though, truth be told, she's surrounded by love the whole time. A big part of her journey is learning to see and reciprocate this love, so when the book ends, we know she's finally on firm ground once more.