I read this book a very long time ago, and also when I was very young - 12-14, I believe. 
 I knew a few bare facts about racism, and the history of slavery. I also think I had a vague knowledge of the African American struggle, but I don't remember too well. I do remember that the story had a very strong, very visceral impact on me. One of my first encounters with/about racism and being black in America. I think I cried in my reading. I haven't ever forgotten the cover, or the title, or Cassie, and Stacey and their family. 
 I read the second book in series, right after this one, but that is where it stopped. I couldn't deal with all the raw, visceral emotion Ms. Mildred's book elicited, and the grim realities of life back then that she painted. I absolutely cannot imagine what strength it must have taken just to live in the US during the Jim Crow era. Can't do it. 
 I am not too sure I can pick this book up today, even. 
 Haven't ever forgotten Ms. Taylor (if nothing for the fact that my dad had wanted to call me Mildred when I was born, hehe).