3/100: The Last Convertible, by Anton Myrer

I could give you ten reasons off the top of my head as to why I loved this book, but the biggest and best and hardest one to explain is this: The Last Convertible makes me nostalgic for an era I have never known.

I know that sounds a little ridiculous. I am, after all, a child of the 80’s. However, I’m also a product of my parents – two people who unwittingly and unrelentingly defied standard convention throughout my childhood (and who continue to on a daily basis). What I mean by that is I was pretty much raised with an appreciation for things that people four decades my senior enjoy. It’s true that I’ve never cruised around in a 1930’s convertible, nor do I have any memories of the day Pearl Harbor was bombed, but I have vivid memories of my sisters and I maniacally dancing to records of Benny Goodman, Count Basie, and others. I recall – with clarity not usually accredited to 8 year olds – poring over newspaper clippings and the original Life issues announcing Kennedy’s assassination saved from my grandmother’s attic. I’m not recounting these experiences because I think they’re singular to my life; I’m just trying to give you a sense of why and how deeply I felt a connection to Anton Myrer’s novel.

The Last Convertible is, if nothing else, one of the most loving tributes to the 1940’s ever put to page. It details the year and a half leading up to America’s immersion in WWII and the decades that follow through the eyes of George Virdon. After a brief introduction to George as an older man in the 1970’s, the novel moves backward as he recounts his experiences as a young man to his daughter’s boyfriend. The story really begins with George as a freshman at Harvard. His group of friends constitutes the Fusiliers – a fivesome of boys from varying backgrounds whose friendships anchor the plot of the book. One of the greatest strengths of the novel lies in Myrer’s ability to flesh out his characters so wholly – while the story is told through George, it’s clear to see that The Last Convertible is something of an ensemble piece. The Five Fusiliers, their girlfriends (and later, wives), enemies, classmates, and ultimately, children carry as much weight as does George. Better still, each is imbued with distinct realism. No one in Myrer’s world is perfect, yet it is often the flaws and mistakes every character makes that brings so much tenderness to the story.

While the book can be seen as a coming-of-age story, it continues long after the characters’ innocence has been lost. The story follows George and his friends’ lives well into their respective adulthoods, as friendships change, families begin to grow, and the country reacts to the ramifications of the tumultuous war years. As often as characters mourn the loss of their childhoods, there is a touching adherence to the loyalty humans are capable of selflessly giving in crisis, and above all, love even in the bleakest of times.