The animals of nature show us that learning is done in play. (Isn't that a fun part of PBS nature shows, kitten bobcats running and bouncing around, little wolves, fox cubs, etc., exploring a new summery world. Mammals have fun, and they also go and deal with life as an adult.)

However, society works by making it so that you don't want to look like an asshole, so that you do a lot of what everyone else does, buy things in plastic containers, buy a car, burn gas, make money, first and foremost, shun the weirdo so as not to be implicated rather than learning something.

Edmund Wilson, in To The Finland Station, brings us a history, the import of one notable person reading a Chekhov masterpiece, Ward #6, against the tableau of revolution. Page 432-433 or so, in my copy of it. The doctor of a pitiful mental hospital comes to identify with a young man who has a persecution complex, taken to a logical conclusion. And that person in Wilson's focus, talking about history, feels like he is there in Ward No. 6.

Chekhov, I'd recommend to anyone, and he'll make your hair stand on end if you give a shit about anyone or yourself.

In a bad mood, I think him useless, so defying my heart's wish that I later regain.