God's Dog by Diego Marani

and Muslims are in the majority in the cities; only the provinces are Protestant, though there are still a few Catholics in the south. The people in Rome would like me to spend time among them, to go to Maastricht to distribute catechisms in the schools; they fail to understand the game that is being played around these parts.
    8 May
    Sometimes I am puzzled by Guntur’s attitude to science, and I think that even in his own world he is regarded as an oddity. For Muslims the only aim of science is to explain, to transmit, never to query or investigate. Guntur on the other hand has no qualms about discovering things which might put God’s truth in doubt, indeed he maintains that one should never hesitate to follow the path along which doubt leads us. Yesterday evening in the Coffee Shop we had a disagreement. My view was that scientific discoveries are our own miracles: they are inexplicable, they can lead only to further wonderment. However far man may push himself, even in tinkering with life itself, the result will never be his own creation; at most, it will be mere rejigging. But Guntur disagreed.
    â€˜If God leads me to make discoveries which put my faith in doubt, it is because He wants to point me down another road to come to Him. Religion is like science. Without free and open debate, it withers and dies, leaving the road open to atheism. It is rational proof that thwarts attempts at undermining faith. The greatest discovery that science constantly presents us with is our own ignorance, and that is why the believer should have no fear of it. Today neither Christianity nor Islam can provide answers to mankind’s problems. Christ and Mohammed are but remote memories: it is so long since God sent us a sign. We are like a vessel wandering through space which has lost all contact with its base. If for thousands of years man has been getting no nearer to God, it must be because we have taken a wrong path. Science may help us find the right one.’
    12 May
    I sense that Guntur wants to tell me something, but he can’t quite bring himself to do so. Perhaps he does not trust me, and this upsets me. Today he told me what he is working on at the university, namely, mirror neurons. Apparently he knew Neil Corrigan; he has read all his books. He cannot know that I was responsible for the suicide of his colleague at Imperial College. But Guntur is a scientist of another kind.
    14 May
    Guntur has gone to Zeeland for a few days, for a conference. He left only yesterday, but we have been e-mailing each other constantly: in the form of letters, which is what we like to do. I tell him about what I have been reading, about my various battle plans; he sends me little drawings of conference life, a sort of real time chronicle of his day, meetings with old windbags and a visit to the dike on the Scheldt. I feel as if I am there with him. I didn’t know about the old wool trade between Holland and Scotland which he mentions. I should really travel a bit more: I have been in Holland for years, but I have never been to Zeeland, nor to Friesland.
    18 May
    Today Guntur and I took the ferry to Enkhuizen and went for a trip on the Markermeer. It was a gloriously sunny day, the kind you don’t often get in this part of the world. Along the coast we saw fields of tulips and old windmills, just like in a Dutch landscape! On the boat there were fishing-rods for hire, and you could buy live bait. So we started to fish, without catching anything, of course. Even the little boys beside us were reeling in one herring after another, whereas all we did was lose our bait. But Guntur seemed to enjoy it enormously, laughing amidst the spray, and smiling that disarming smile of his which makes everything seem like a small miracle. At times, when I’m alone, I too try to be amazed by little things, I try to wonder at the clouds, driven by the wind, at a flower closing its petals as evening approaches, at the fire burning in the