Peter Seibel’s blog post Code is not Literature has generated some discussion in our department. I certainly agree with a lot of what Peter writes — when I used to coordinate our final year design patterns course, students would present examples of patterns culled from the Interweb. (Google code search was great until it was switched off). Let’s just say even finding patterns clearly expressed in code was often a bit of a struggle. So I’m quite sympathetic to Peter’s point that “most real code” isn’t really worth reading.

On the other hand, I still like Richard Gabriel’s idea of the “Poetry of Programming”. Donald Knuth’s Tex and Metafont have been published as hardbacks; Kernighan & Plauger’s Software Tools & the John Lions’ Unix book as paperbacks. One of the things I like about Smalltalk and Self was the way the IDE made code easy to read, and that much of the system code had obviously been written to be read. Now Github & SourceForge mean there are millions of lines of code around that can be read anytime: but that still doesn’t make it literature.

I guess this is because literature doesn’t happen by accident. Most writing isn’t literature — this blog post, my university’s assessment handbook, company procedure handbooks or advertising brochures may be grammatically correct and be worth reading for the content they contain: but they aren’t worth reading just for the sake of it. So we shouldn’t be surprised that most of the code isn’t literature: it doesn’t need to be.

What’s this to do with Grace? Two things, I think. First, we hope that Grace is a good language not just for writing code day-to-day, but also for code that aspires to be literature. And second, we hope that at least some of the code we write in Grace, while it may not rise to literature’s exhaled state, will at least be worth reading.