Though Stanley Yelnats is nowhere in sight, another forced laborer at Camp Green Lake, Theodore "Armpit" Johnson, picks up the slack as protagonist rather well in this second full-length novel of the Holes franchise. Following Armpit back to his sprawling hometown of Austin, Texas, we see the most physically formidable digger from Camp Green Lake trying to turn his life around and make good for himself and his parents. Armpit may not have always believed he had much potential, but his stint in a correctional facility has motivated him plenty to prove he isn't destined to spend any more time in jail. Since returning to Austin, Armpit's parents trust him a lot less than before the fight at a movie theater which put him in juvenile detention, but Armpit has delivered on his promise to change, landing a job with a landscaping contractor (digging holes, of course) and befriending Ginny, the ten-year-old girl who lives with her mother in the other half of his family's duplex. Ginny needs a little assistance to walk and perform some other simple tasks, born with cerebral palsy and drastically undersized for her age. The bleeding in Ginny's brain at birth didn't kill her, and didn't harm her beyond the reach of therapy to eventually cure, but she stutters her words sometimes, trying to take hold of the next one she desires to use but not always able to get a firm grasp on it at first. Armpit is there to help her however possible, to walk and talk with her and remind Ginny what she usually has no trouble remembering: she's like any other girl, but had some bleeding in her brain at birth. In return, Ginny provides Armpit with a focal point, someone who would be affected immensely if he crossed the line again and went to prison, a friend who believes in his goodness as not even his parents appear to nowadays.
Armpit's character rehabilitation seems to be going fine until another Camp Green Lake alum, X-Ray, pops up on the scene. X-Ray proposes they join forces in a quick moneymaking scheme that may technically be beyond the boundaries of the law, but isn't so far past that it's likely to get either of them in significant trouble. Capitalizing on the wildly popular upcoming concert of teenage singing star Kaira DeLeon isn't so bad, X-Ray reasons, and Armpit can't help listening. He knows Kaira's music well; the smooth sweetness of her soaring voice is magic to the ears, and Ginny is a major fan. As Armpit commits to X-Ray's plan, fronting a ponderous portion of the startup capital needed to get the operation off the ground, he wonders if he's making a mistake involving himself in questionable dealings. His mantra since coming home to Austin has been to concentrate on making himself respectable again by taking small steps in the right direction, not concerned about gaining all that ground back at once. "The important thing was to take small steps and just keep on moving forward. 'Life is like crossing a river. If you try to take too big a step, the current will knock you off your feet and carry you away.'" The counselor at Camp Green Lake warned Armpit about the high rate of repeat incarceration among young African-American males, so Armpit knows he'll have to fight the current if he doesn't want to go back to the slammer. But X-Ray is such an affable friend and business partner, and his offer promises so much money, so quickly...can it do any harm to go along for the ride?
What Armpit can't foresee is the crazy clash between worlds that occurs when he ends up at the very concert to which he's been scalping tickets, and right up close to the action after a fortuitous encounter with the one and only Kaira DeLeon. The trajectory of the narrative alters hugely after that, as Armpit gets to know the singing superstar and we see the unglamorous reality behind a madly hyped music tour. Kaira has it made in many ways, but her life has its lacks like anyone else's. Her family is a jumble, with dubious characters perched at the top of the food chain, but Kaira can't legitimately take control and start making her own decisions until she turns eighteen in another year. Kaira's and Armpit's problems are about to collide with the impact of two freighters going head to head, and the shockwaves could spread worldwide. The keeping of secrets has been weighing heavily on Armpit, but if certain people get their way about his relationship with Kaira, Armpit's ticket-scalping trouble will be the least of his worries. Does the world have it in for Armpit, and no matter how noble his intentions, he's destined to wind up back behind a cell door? Or could the hero within him, the patient and supportive friend who has shown up for Ginny every time he was needed, be victorious in the end? Armpit is no paragon of truth and righteousness, but perhaps he has the moral strength to at least keep taking small steps in the proper direction, and be an example to his friends to do the same, each in their own circumstances. He'll never know unless he tries.
"To me, a man is someone who is brave enough to love, and to let himself be loved."
—Kaira DeLeon, Small Steps, P. 116
Small Steps is grounded in Armpit's friendship with Ginny, whom he can love without any residue of resentment. Unlike Armpit's parents, Ginny hasn't lived through his past mistakes, so she isn't inclined to judge him by them. Unlike other adults and even kids, Ginny knows how it feels to be discriminated against by appearance and demeanor; her wispy frame and stutter are giveaways that not everything is right with her, just as Armpit's size, skin color, and reputation as a convict inform the world about him in ways that might be misleading. When Armpit could have retreated into self-destructive bitterness in response to the prevailing attitude toward his return to Austin, Ginny was there to make sure he didn't. For a time, at least, she was nearly everything good to him in the world. "But as much as Armpit helped her, she helped him even more. She gave his life meaning. For the first time in his life, there was someone who looked up to him, who cared about him. Together they were learning to take small steps." Those are powerful words, and resonated deeply with me, as someone who has known the grace that having a Ginny can bring into one's life. A person with such unswerving belief in you can be a game-changer. It can make you see the good person you could become if you tried earnestly enough. It might even give Armpit the ability to do the same for someone else, like when he advises Kaira on how to interact with a dying young fan. "Just look her in the eye. Let her know she's real." I suppose that's what we all need in the end, the validation of a caring soul that we are who we think we are, and regardless of the blunders that have marred the smooth course of our life, we are worth getting to know and worth loving, a real person who can share their heart with others and not be afraid they will recoil in disgust. With that assurance, there's no telling where small steps can lead.
At his best, Louis Sachar is an ingeniously inventive author. Holes won practically every youth book prize he could have asked for, including the 1999 John Newbery Medal, the Christopher Award, the National Book Award, and the Boston Globe—Horn Book Award. That's beyond outstanding. Small Steps wasn't Holes, nor was it as surprisingly meaningful as Stanley Yelnats' Survival Guide to Camp Green Lake, but it's a story every fan of Holes should find the time to read, and it did much for me. I would give Small Steps two and a half stars, and the tipping point for rounding that up or down is razor thin. I'm not sure I'll ever know which way I should round it. Louis Sachar has important things to say in this book, and I think we'll all be better for having heard him out. At the very least, you'll meet a few characters you wish you knew in real life, and might find yourself pining for another novel related to Holes. If those are the best things Small Steps does for you, then I have to believe the book was a success.
"And if someday my small steps bring me near
you,
Please don't rush to tell me all you feel.
You don't have to speak for me to hear you.
If I softly sigh,
Look me in the eye
And let me know I'm real. . . .
Then we'll take small steps,
'Cause we won't know where we're going.
We'll take small steps,
And we'll have too much to say.
Small steps,
Hand in hand we'll walk together,
And maybe we'll discover
A clue along the way. . . ."
—Small Steps, P. 256