Eigenmumbles

There are elegant programs in the world, systems that impress you with the simple, powerful way in which they solve fundamentally difficult problems. Some of these are almost like works of literature – poems, perhaps, some short and some epic. Then there are codes that are the equivalent of a technical report: functional, thorough, competently written, and not necessarily that interesting to read. You’re glad someone else has done the work, but you’d prefer just to cite it (or call it as a subroutine) and not wade through the details. Then there are codes that reek of the sort of desperation that comes from writing a term paper in an all-nighter just before it is due; this image comes frequently to mind when I read code from some students.

And then there are the codes that resemble nothing so much as the bad poetry that sometimes gets read in cafes around college towns. These are the codes where the author is clearly ecstatic about all the clever things that he can do with his language, even though you really wish that he wouldn’t. Sometimes, they rise to a sort of awful, accidental art form at which one can only marvel. When I see these, I can never decide whether they’ve made my day, or ruined it. Either way, I try to avoid repeating the experience.