Blue-Collar Personhood After the Factory Sasha is much plumper than I remember him. He is not tall and now has a very round, moon-like face, so does his brother Vanya. But I recall his infectious laugh, his enthusiasm for everything and his muscular, spare frame ten years ago when he had only just started at the cement works after he quit the army. Th is is what small-town life does to Russian men, I am told. Th ey go to seed more quickly even than women. A diet of potatoes and pasta, alcohol and cigarettes, sitting out the long-winter nights in a pokey fl at, short bursts of activity followed by sleeping in the cab of the fork-lift-anywhere at work where you can hide. All of these aspects of life mean that at 35, men like Sasha are portly, wheezing and looking older than their years. We're talking about his work history: all the places in the town he's worked in, all the workshops he's left. I make the mistake of using the term 'worker', and then the even worse faux pas of explaining that I'm interested in the 'working class'. However, this is serendipitous as it provokes Sasha-usually a rather taciturn person-to launch into a long exposition of his personhood: What do you mean 'working class!? I've worked at all the production lines in this town at one time or another, but I draw the line at shady businesses Photo 2.1 The importance of mutual aid: 'someone will see and try to help you'. Typical yard work between friends (Image courtesy of Alyona Kudriavsteva)