Notes From the Tilt-a-Whirl by N. D. Wilson is a book unlike anything else. My usual pattern for reading consists of pen in hand, underlining and making marginalia to interact with the text. With Wilson’s book, however, I found myself too mesmerized to do that, instead merely absorbing every word for the pure pleasure it brings.
Not long after reading Notes, I picked it up again to have the same experience. And it didn’t let me down. Wilson’s book is pure magic, causing one to think about life and everything that happens in it as stemming from the Creator of it all. It is an overwhelming and beautiful work on the existence of a Creator in the midst of this spinning ball we call earth. From focusing on the minutest insects to the complexities of life, Notes will take you on a thrilling ride at the carnival.
It deserves to be read with care, and more than once. And if you don’t have room on your shelf for another book, then get this because it worthy of replacing almost anything on your shelf.
Here is just a small sample of Wilson’s writing:
Three postcards await our perusal, yea, three visions of a world.
One: I see a theme park where there are lots of rides, but there is nobody who can control them and nobody who knows how the rides end. Grief counseling, however, is included in the price of admission.
Two: I see an accident. An explosion of some kind inhabited by happenstantial life forms. A milk spill gone bacterial, only with more flame. It has no meaning or purpose or master. It simply is.
Three: I see a stage, a world where every scene is crafted. Where men act out their lives with tapestry, where meaning and beauty exist, where right and wrong are more than imagined constructs. There is evil. There is darkness. There is the Winter of tragedy, every life ending, churned back in the soil. But the tragedy leads to Spring. The story does not end in frozen death. The fields are sown in grief. The harvest will be reaped in joy. I see a Master’s painting. I listen to a Master’s prose. When darkness falls on me, when I stand on my corner of the stage and hear my cue, when I know my final scene has come and I must exit, I will go into the ground like corn, waiting for the Son.
I see my world (pg. 76-77).


