Ben is the novel’s protagonist, a sensitive and athletic 17-year-old when the novel begins, whose journey into adulthood forms the story’s central arc. As a round and dynamic character, Ben’s development is defined by his struggle to forge an identity as a man that is independent of his overpowering father, making his experience an illustration of the theme Coming of Age as a Struggle for Selfhood. The third-person limited omniscience perspective is filtered mainly through his consciousness, and it opens with him straining to see his father’s approaching plane while also dreading it, a metaphor for his simultaneous longing for and apprehension of Bull. Ben’s relationship with his father is the novel’s emotional core, a complex bond of admiration, resentment, love, and fear. He both dreads Bull’s return from overseas and admits, “I’ve missed him too, kind of” (19), capturing the profound ambivalence that shapes his adolescence.

Ben’s journey is marked by a series of confrontations that test his courage and force him to define his own moral code. The recurring basketball games against his father serve as a symbolic battleground where he can challenge Bull’s physical and psychological dominance. His eventual victory during their final game is a pivotal moment of liberation, even though it results in a violent backlash from Bull. Beyond the family, Ben’s fight with Red Pettus forces him to act bravely without his father’s direct influence, while his decision to help Toomer Smalls, in direct defiance of Bull’s command, is a climactic act of moral independence that separates him from his father’s influence. These moments are steps in a difficult process of distinguishing his own values from the ideology his father tries to impose upon him.

Ultimately, Ben’s coming of age is not about the wholesale rejection of his father but about achieving a nuanced understanding of their relationship and the development of his own, independent moral code. He learns to navigate Bull’s volatile personality, even using his father’s own psychological tactics against him. His greatest struggle is reconciling his deep, instinctual love for his father with the pain and trauma Bull has inflicted upon him. This internal conflict culminates in the novel’s final pages after Bull’s death. As the family drives away from Ravenel, Ben reflects on his life and realizes that he has finally filled up “with the love of his father, with the love of Santini” (471). This epiphany signifies his maturation; he is able to accept his love for Bull without being consumed or defined by his father’s destructive legacy, at last freeing himself to become his own man.

Lillian is the matriarch of the family, a character of resilience and complexity who functions as the chief mediator between Bull and their children. A “stunningly beautiful woman” of southern aristocratic heritage (16), she represents a world of grace, culture, and emotional sensitivity that stands in opposition to Bull’s crude worldview. Her primary role is that of a peacemaker, constantly working to defuse Bull’s temper and shield her children from the worst of his rage, a position that also marks her as an enabler, complicating her relationship with her children. She understands her husband’s volatility and prepares her family for his return from overseas as a commanding officer would prepare troops for inspection, instructing them to “[s]tand up straight […]. Shoulders back. Like Marines” (20). This behavior shows her strategy for survival: maintaining order and presenting an image of militaristic perfection to appease the family’s tyrannical leader.

While Lillian often opposes Bull’s brutish behavior and verbalizes her disapproval of his racism and vulgarity, she also enables his abuse. Her commitment to maintaining the family unit and her genuine love for Bull lead her to downplay and rationalize his violence. Her psychological defense mechanisms are powerful; she insists to Ben that Bull “never hits [her]” (138), a statement that denies the reality of her physical abuse and demonstrates her desperate need to preserve a facade of normalcy. She is caught in a painful paradox, simultaneously protecting her children from Bull and protecting Bull from the consequences of his actions. This dual role makes her a tragic figure, a woman whose strength is channeled into maintaining a deeply dysfunctional system rather than changing it.

Mary Anne Meecham is Ben’s sharp-witted and cynical younger sister, a round, static character who serves as a foil to her brother and as the family’s truth-teller. Described as “wise, freckled, and touchingly vulnerable” (18), Mary Anne uses her formidable intelligence and biting sarcasm as both a shield and a weapon against the emotional turmoil of her household. Where Ben internalizes his conflict with Bull, Mary Anne externalizes it through a constant stream of commentary that deconstructs the family’s myths and openly mocks Bull’s authority. She labels his violent outbursts and sexual innuendos “sicko-sexual” and critiques the family’s transient life with brutal honesty, declaring that with every move, her friends are “as good as dead” (14). Her humor is a coping mechanism that allows her to name the trauma that other family members, particularly Lillian and Ben, attempt to suppress or endure in silence.

Mary Anne’s critical perspective offers a clear-eyed assessment of the family’s dynamics. She is the first to articulate the paradox of their relationship with their father, observing that while she fears him, he is also “the most interesting person [she’s] ever met” (19). Her rebellious nature is often expressed in creative, passive-aggressive acts, such as when she collects her tears in a spoon and flicks them at Bull during the family’s drive to Ravenel. This act is a metaphor for her character: she turns her pain into a small but pointed projectile aimed directly at the source of her suffering. Her struggles with her physical appearance and her feelings of alienation stand in contrast to Ben’s athletic success and Lillian’s conventional beauty, positioning her as an outsider within her own family. Her final observation after Bull’s death, that “Santini is a dead word” (464), is a profound recognition that the myth holding the family captive has finally dissolved.

Matthew and Karen are the two youngest Meecham children, less-developed characters who reflect the direct impact of Bull’s tyrannical parenting style. Their reactions to the family’s dysfunctional dynamics are more straightforward than those of their older siblings, illustrating the fundamental ways children adapt to an environment of fear and control. Matthew constantly seeks Bull’s approval by attempting to emulate his father’s aggression and masculinity. He is quick to offer to “punch Mary Anne” for a perceived slight and adopts the nonsensical phrase “Simba Barracuda” as his own war cry, a childish effort to create a persona as formidable as “The Great Santini” (14).

Karen, in contrast, often occupies the role of the favored daughter. Bull’s affection for her is less complicated because her youth and femininity pose no challenge to his dominance. She, in turn, is often his defender, as when she tells her siblings during an argument, “I like the way you sing, Daddy, don’t listen” (30). Her desire to please her father and her occasional tattling on her siblings demonstrate an adaptive strategy based on allegiance with the family’s central power figure. Together, Matthew and Karen illustrate two other possible paths of survival for children in the Meecham household: imitation of the aggressor or alliance with him.