Is Small Steps: The Year I Got Polio Worth Reading?

I totally get the urge to find free reads, especially when you're on a budget or just dipping your toes into a book. 'Small Steps: The Year I Got Polio' is such a heartfelt memoir by Peg Kehret—it’s one of those stories that sticks with you. While I’m all for supporting authors (they pour their souls into these works!), I’ve stumbled upon sites like Open Library or Project Gutenberg that sometimes offer older titles for free legally. That said, this one’s a bit modern for those platforms, so your best bet might be checking your local library’s digital catalog. Many libraries partner with apps like Libby or Hoopla, where you can borrow e-books without spending a dime. If you’re lucky, it might be there! Otherwise, secondhand bookstores or Kindle deals could be a wallet-friendly alternative. Either way, it’s worth the hunt—Kehret’s resilience in this book is genuinely inspiring.

Peck's memoir 'Small Steps: The Year I Got Polio' feels like flipping through an old friend's photo album—vivid, personal, and quietly powerful. The protagonist is Peck herself, recounting her childhood battle with polio at age 12. Her voice carries this mix of youthful curiosity and resilience—like when she describes the eerie silence of the hospital or the way she practiced writing with toes after her hands weakened. Then there's her family: her mother's unwavering support (remember the scene where she smuggles in a Thanksgiving feast?), and her siblings' letters that become lifelines. The medical staff, especially stern-but-kind Nurse Kennedy, almost feel like characters too—their routines shaping Peck's days. What sticks with me is how ordinary moments (a stolen ice cream, a physiotherapy session) become monumental in her journey. I once lent this book to a teacher friend who used it to discuss disability narratives—kids were shocked to learn polio still exists globally. That's the magic of memoirs: they make history tactile. Peck's descriptions of the iron lung, the smell of antiseptic, even her jealousy of healthy kids—it all lingers like faint hospital echoes.

If you loved the resilience and personal journey in 'Small Steps: The Year I Got Polio', you might find 'The Diving Bell and the Butterfly' by Jean-Dominique Bauby incredibly moving. It’s a memoir written entirely by Bauby blinking his left eyelid after a stroke left him paralyzed. The sheer determination and poetic reflection in it remind me of Peg Kehret’s honest storytelling. Another gem is 'When Breath Becomes Air' by Paul Kalanithi—it’s a heart-wrenching but beautifully written account of a neurosurgeon facing terminal illness. The way Kalanithi grapples with mortality and purpose echoes the emotional depth of 'Small Steps'. For something slightly different but equally inspiring, 'Wonder' by R.J. Palacio captures a young boy’s struggle with facial differences and the kindness (and cruelty) of others. It’s more fictional but has that same blend of personal challenge and hope. I’d also throw in 'I Will Always Write Back' by Caitlin Alifirenka and Martin Ganda—a true story about friendship across continents, which shares that theme of perseverance against odds.

Reading 'Small Steps: The Year I Got Polio' was such a poignant experience for me. The protagonist, Peg Kehret, contracts polio simply because she was exposed to the virus during a time when the disease was rampant in the U.S. It’s heartbreaking to think how ordinary life could turn upside down in an instant back then. The book doesn’t delve into a dramatic 'why'—it’s a stark reminder of how polio didn’t discriminate; kids like Peg could catch it from something as mundane as a summer swim or a classroom touch. What struck me hardest was how Peg’s story mirrors countless real-life cases from the 1940s and ’50s. Polio was this shadow lurking in everyday spaces, and her infection wasn’t about negligence or fate—just terrible luck. The way she describes the fever, the paralysis creeping in… it makes you grateful for vaccines today. Her resilience afterward, though? That’s the real heart of the book.