Godless by James Dobson Read Free Book Online Page B

ever written.”
    Matthew had always loved books. In addition to a tablet full of marked-up academic volumes, he had once owned a small supply of collector print editions. But he had read very few novels. Possibly none from start to finish.
    â€œPretty sad,” he bluffed.
    â€œYou say you studied philosophy?” asked Mori.
    â€œI did.”
    â€œSo you’ve read Voltaire, Nietzsche, and the gang?”
    Matthew smiled. “I have. You?”
    â€œOf course. Like every other self-respecting atheist.”
    â€œEver hear of Dr. Thomas Vincent?” Matthew asked.
    â€œSure. UC–Boulder?”
    â€œThat’s right. He was my academic advisor during college.”
    â€œNo kidding! I’ve read some of his stuff. Bright guy.”
    â€œThanks,” Matthew said as if deserving part of the praise. After another sip he came clean. “But I never got to finish the program. Had to drop out. Short on cash.”
    â€œOh,” Mori said with sympathy, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    â€œActually, I wanted to become a teacher myself. Religious studies.”
    â€œI bet you’d have been a good one.” His eyes followed a passing waitress before he spoke again. “But teaching is only half the equation. You need willing pupils, something hard to find these days.”
    The men shared the silent communion of disappointment, lost dream sitting beside futile undertaking. Then, to his surprise, Matthew noticed a change in Mori’s expression. Chilly cynicism dissipated, as on the face of a discarded coach suddenly assigned a fledgling team.
    â€œHey,” the elder announced. “Can I suggest an author?”
    â€œFiction?” Matthew asked.
    A nod. “Yeah. Something I think you’d like. Includes religious themes. But not like Moses or Milton. I’m not into that sort of thing. More like Nietzsche meets Sherlock Holmes.”
    Matthew recognized both names. A good sign. “I guess,” he answered with a shrug.
    â€œDostoyevsky,” Mori said before spelling the name. “The true Russian master.”
    Matthew tried to imagine enjoying any classic novel, let alone one from Russia.
    â€œTrust me,” Mori continued in reaction to the blank stare, “better than Tolstoy. Every bit as long, but worth the effort.”
    Matthew found himself entranced by Mori’s rising enthusiasm.
    â€œI promise you’ve never read more powerful philosophical dialogue than you’ll find in Crime and Punishment . Or should you start with The Brothers Karamazov ? More religious. Hard to say.”
    â€œWhich is shorter?” Matthew asked.
    â€œWrong question,” Mori chided. “You mean ‘Which is better?’”
    â€œOK. Which is better, then?”
    â€œThat’s the problem!” Mori shouted. “After nearly twenty years teaching both books, it would be murder to choose one over the other.” He laughed at an apparent irony Matthew didn’t follow.
    â€œMaybe I’ll read them both,” Matthew said to his own surprise. It seemed no accident, he thought, that Bryan “Mori” Quincy had approached this particular table. Perhaps a challenging reading regimen could help defend Matthew against another prolonged funk.
    â€œWhich one first?” he asked while readying his fingers over his digital device.
    Mori rubbed his beard as his eyes rose upward in thought. “I’m not a spiritually oriented person myself,” he finally said, “but I love a good debate about religion.”
    He looked toward Matthew out of the corner of one eye, as if the comment were a dipstick checking his new pupil’s depth of conviction.
    â€œMe, too,” Matthew said, without specifying whether he meant not spiritual or loves a good debate .
    â€œI relate more to Ivan Karamazov than to his brother Alyosha,” Mori added.
    Matthew stared blankly.
    â€œSorry,” Mori said. “Ivan