A book review of sorts
Why do pinball machines tell stories?
They could be just ramps and targets, like skee-ball,
but they’re not.
You feed in your tokens, plunk, plunk
to challenge the Black Knight,
or become a magician,
or a superhero,
or Godzilla.
You pull back on the spring
and launch your chrome ball
into a world of light and sound and speed,
and story.
Voices drop hints about where you are,
and what matters in this world;
where to aim,
what to watch out for,
and how to prevail against a nemesis who,
despite a thousand disguises,
is always the relentless force of gravity.
Look for the patterns, Will says.
Control the ball.
Control the game.
Control yourself.
After you’ve settled in and played a while,
you might step back from the flippers and look around.
There’s a story here, too.
There are colorful machines lined up in neat rows,
and lights, and sounds, and the crowd, sure.
But stick around and you’re bound to
notice the small details. The subtle signals,
the encouraging signs that together
form a larger pattern,
This is Will’s story, a story that reaches through pinball
to say come as you are;
you are accepted,
you belong,
you are welcome here.
Amid the flashing lights and shimmering colors
of a thousand disguises,
the root story in this joyful space
is always love.
Can you feel it?
North Coast Pinball is energy and light and an amazing and sometimes jarring number of sounds. The atmosphere will build and swirl and envelop you in a field of sheer exhilaration. Or maybe jangle your nerves and send you down into a claustrophobic eddy. “This place isn’t for everyone,” you might say at first blush. Will knows, because Will watches faces, notices a small smile, or gathering alarm, or a tentative attempt at connection. Will watches people, and especially children, get swept up in a current of wonder or, occasionally, around the bend into overstimulation. That’s why there are different sorts of spaces in here. Bean-bag chairs by the windows, and a low table with gadgets and books whose titles may surprise you. Observe from a distance, take it all in, and the discordant sounds might begin to sound a bit like jazz.
Edge closer and read the small encouraging messages that are literally everywhere. You’ll find that they don’t sound like commerce. They aren’t pitched to get your dollar. They sound like welcome, and genuine encouragement.
In here it Will’s voice, his choices, his printed messages that tell the story of what kind of small universe you’ve just entered. If you’re curious, if you stick around, you just might find that the story of this little world along the Nehalem actually is for everyone, as much as the story of a pinball arcade in a small river town can possibly be.
And one of those books on the low table by the beanbag chairs, the one with the colorful cover? It’s titled, Can you Feel It? Will wrote it. It’s about this place. It’s about his hopes and dreams and worries and observations as he gathered his courage and worked on the story of North Coast Pinball. I just finished it, and then sat right down and wrote this. It is a beautiful book by a kind, and creative and intelligent man. Little vignettes about the people who venture in. The hard spots. The uncertainties. Mostly, the human connections. And it rings true. I know, because I’ve played like a thousand games in here. You’ll find the initials of my adult sons among the highest scores, testament to bursts of adrenaline, stuff you don’t realize you’re saying out loud, slaps on the back, and laughter. For a while my initials were up there on Twilight Zone. They’re gone now, but I don’t care. There’s always tomorrow and a fresh sleeve of tokens. What lasts much longer, likely the rest of my life, will be the images and sounds and memories and joy.
Carl Whiting,
July, 2026