Politics & Power Quote by Richard Russo

Russo’s sentence reads like a shrug, but it’s a strategic one: “probably” and “enduring theme” let him claim a big subject without posturing as a sociologist. That modesty is part of the brand. His fiction doesn’t arrive waving a thesis; it sidles up through small-town errands, broken-down institutions, and people who are funny because they’re cornered. By framing class as an “effect” rather than an identity, Russo emphasizes what class does to a life: it narrows choices, scripts relationships, shapes what kinds of mistakes are forgivable, and determines which dreams get treated as charming versus delusional.

The subtext is that American class is most powerful when it pretends not to exist. We have a national allergy to the word - we prefer “hardworking” or “regular folks” - yet Russo keeps returning to the quiet machinery that sorts people anyway: who has a safety net, who gets second chances, who can leave, who must stay. His work is packed with local hierarchies (town-gown tensions, workplace pecking orders, family legacies) that show class as intimate, not abstract.

Context matters: Russo’s career rises alongside late-20th-century deindustrialization and the hollowing out of civic life, when “middle class” became more aspiration than description. His novels often treat economic decline not as backdrop but as weather - the thing everyone feels and no one can fully name. The line signals intent: to make class legible in an America that insists it’s a meritocracy, and to do it with enough humor and tenderness that readers recognize themselves before they reach for defenses.