I'm about halfway through the re-read. I'm glad I decided to read it a second time. I'd forgotten how much I'd enjoyed it.
I was touched by the maids deciding to talk to Skeeter, despite the huge risk. This is a time before I was born (1968) and it helps me understand what things were like for blacks in the 60's. I lived in Cincinnati as a child, which was nowhere near Mississippi's league, but was a pretty biggotted town. My parents made comments about blacks that confused me. About half of my elementary school was black. Some I liked and some I didn't. But I remember getting flack for playing with a little girl named Cindy who was black, and lived up the street. My parents acted like she'd done something wrong, but wouldn't say what. As an adult, I understand why. It was because Cindy was black.
It's hard to see the perspective of a race that isn't your own. This book is a powerful one in that respect, to be sure. I'd like to think we've "grown the f*ck up" in this country. But my perspective doesn't mean much. And I honestly don't know if we have.