A Silver Ball, a Long Arc of History
Review: “Pinball: A Graphic History of the Silver Ball,” by Jon Chad

There’s a particular music to a pinball machine — the sharp clap of the flippers, the ricocheted chatter of metal on metal, the sudden celebratory chime that feels both earned and accidental. Jon Chad’s Pinball captures that sound on the page, translating noise, motion, and history into a graphic narrative that is as instructive as it is playful.

At first glance, the subject might seem slight. Pinball? A diversion wedged between pool tables and Pac-Man cabinets? Chad’s book, however, argues — persuasively and with considerable charm — that the silver ball has traced a far more consequential path through modern culture than its flashing lights suggest.

The story begins not in neon-lit arcades but in the salons of Europe, where early tabletop games like bagatelle entertained aristocrats. Chad sketches these origins with a light hand, connecting them to the physics that still governs the game today: gravity, angle, momentum. From there, the narrative drops — like a launched ball — into Depression-era America, where coin-operated machines proliferated, offering cheap amusement in hard times.

It is here that Pinball finds its central tension. Without flippers, early machines seemed governed by chance, and that perception proved politically combustible. Chad vividly recounts the mid-20th-century backlash, when pinball was cast as a vice, tied to gambling and corruption. In New York and other cities, machines were seized and publicly destroyed — a moral crusade against what officials insisted was a game of luck masquerading as skill.

The book’s most compelling sequence — and its dramatic spine — is the 1976 courtroom showdown that helped overturn New York City’s ban. Roger Sharpe, a pinball expert, famously demonstrated the game’s skill component by calling his shot and executing it in front of skeptical authorities. Chad renders the moment with cinematic flair, the panels tightening as the ball arcs toward its target. It is both a legal turning point and a narrative climax, the instant when pinball reclaims its legitimacy.

What distinguishes Pinball is not just its historical sweep but its clarity of explanation. Chad pauses the story to unpack the mechanics of the game — how flippers changed everything, how players control trajectory, how physics underlies even the most chaotic-seeming play. These sections, illustrated with clean, instructive diagrams, give the book an educational backbone without draining its energy.

If the work has a limitation, it lies in its breadth. Chad covers centuries of development and cultural context in a relatively compact format, and some readers may wish for deeper dives into particular eras or personalities. Yet the trade-off feels deliberate. This is not an exhaustive academic study but a guided tour — brisk, engaging, and accessible.

The later chapters trace pinball’s decline in the face of video games and its subsequent revival among enthusiasts and collectors. Here, the tone shifts subtly from exuberance to something like affection. Pinball survives, Chad suggests, not out of nostalgia alone but because it offers something digital games cannot: a tactile, physical dialogue between player and machine.

That idea — that pinball is “controlled chaos,” a blend of skill and unpredictability — echoes throughout the book. It is also what makes Chad’s project succeed. He has taken a subject often dismissed as trivial and revealed its hidden complexity, its intersections with politics, technology, and play.

Like a well-played game, Pinball moves quickly, surprises often, and leaves a lingering sense that there is more beneath the surface than first appears. For readers willing to follow the bounce of the silver ball, it’s a rewarding ride.