On the beauty of foreign language prose (January 7, 2017)
Reading long form in a foreign language is always difficult. I was withdrawing myself throughout all of 2016 from doing this — in my usual “provocative” manner, I was telling people who were willing to listen, that I don’t read fiction in English any more, only in my native Russian. The quoted reasons for the withdrawal were pretty simple: when dealing with fiction written in any of the two foreign languages I can speak and read, I can’t tell good prose from bad. Translation happening in my mind nullified any literary merit that a novel can hold. Every time I was trying again to put myself through a fiction book in English, I was fighting hard the desire to throw it against the wall.
But around a month ago, I began re-reading Pynchon’s “The Crying of Lot 49″, for which I had a Russian-translated copy. I first read it in 2002, liked it a lot back then, but never came back to this book — until recently. I took it from the bookshelf and standing, without even walking away from the shelf, read a first translated chapter.
What a terrible text it was. Participle clauses, climbing onto each other, like monkeys on the rock. Clearly, my literary tastes changed in fourteen years. But look, Pynchon is expected to receive a Nobel Prize in Literature every year now — this book can’t be so bad, I thought. So I immediately went on and bought an English-language copy: it’s just 160 pages, how difficult can this be?
I finished it today. I know that some languages differ structurally from others; this means, you can’t keep the same order of sentence parts when doing translation between them. It looks like this issue hits Russian translation of “Lot 49″ the hardest: the same participle clauses flow smoothly in English, evoking quick, vivid glances into different parts of the author’s universe as we proceed through just one sentence. Having the capacity to trigger some sophisticated imagery is what we love literature for, after all.
And what about all that “nullification” of the foreign words’ beauty in my head? Pretty simple — just read good books.
Why you should never put “London” and “culture” together in a sentence (November 27, 2016)
I normally restrain from posting my gripes about current affairs or politics publicly, but why not try once? I’ll write about culture — and money! — in different countries. This will be a start of my series If You Think London’s Culture is Vibrant You Haven’t Been to Any Other Major City in the World.
This is the main building of the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow. If you have a look at the headlines in The Guardian, you’ll learn that Russia is run by an autocrat, the corruption is rampant, the economy is stagnating, the best minds are fleeing. The country is not even in top 10 largest economies worldwide! Yes, yes. Nevertheless, in 2005 Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow closes for renovation, the largest in scope it has ever had, with a plan to reopen in 2008. Here’s what it looked like back then.
Come 2008, then Minister of Culture announces that it would be impossible to complete the works on time and provided everyone with a new estimate of finishing in 2010-2011. What follows in the years after is a story of several embezzlement scandals, incessant rotation of people responsible for the restoration works, and budget overruns. In late 2010, nevertheless, the theatre’s first hall becomes open for the public, with its building still being completely wrapped in scaffolding, and a year later, in October 2011, Bolshoi reopens completely. Official figures for the final costs are in the region of $700 mil, some sources quote estimates up to $1.1 bil.
Was it expensive? Sure. Did a significant part of that money landed in wrong hands? Absolutely. Nevertheless, Moscow now has a renewed Bolshoi for everyone to enjoy.
How about some stories from Europe? Hamburg — in 2007 works have started on top of the older port warehouses for the Elbphilharmonie building, a new seat of the Philharmoniker Hamburg orchestra.
In 2007 it was expected to finish the building in 2010, in 2010 the date moved to 2012, and the building was finally unveiled in October 2016. It costs between $800—850 mil, which is even more impressive given that Hamburg is not a large city by any measure and is not a nation’s capital. The Elbphilharmonie will be opened for performances in early 2017, ten years after the construction has started, and Hamburgers will have access to another world-class classical music venue.
Copenhagen — in the former docks area on top of the Holmen group of islands, a new opera house is built between 2001 and 2005.
The building is completely funded by a family behind the Mærsk shipping company, but — here’s the catch — is completely tax-deductible for Mærsk, which means it was the Danish government who paid for it. The price was in the $500 mil area, and don’t forget that Danish economy is not even in top 25 worldwide.
Now let’s move back to the UK, a fifth economy in the world. How sad and different is the state of affairs that we see here! From 2000, there were zero new development in the cultural sphere in the country’s largest city. A noticeable blip of that period is the 2001 relocation of the British Library into its own building which allowed British Museum to open its Great Court. Here it is, the pinnacle of sixteen years of British public architecture.
The Shakespeare’s Globe theatre, the only original conception in this field, was completed in 1997, almost twenty years ago. Tate Modern was opened in 2000, in the pre-existing building. Southbank Centre, which some may call a home for the most cutting-edge art in London, was built in the 1950s.
Now how about the UK government adopting “let’s build more cultural venues” instead of “let’s build more affordable housing to house drug addicts” mantra?
This post caused a lot of feedback from my readers. A typical complaint from die-hard Londoners was that I’m putting too much weight on what they call “investment in culture”. They invited me to look deeper into the actual events happening on the London cultural scene, as opposed (in their view) to the real estate development.
That’s a fair comment. Some of the best cultural events in London are truly great, and I can’t even imagine myself seeing them all. The thing is that investment in culture signals a certain worldview. When I praise Vienna for having not one, but two classical movie establishments (Filmmuseum that has its own screening space, and Filmarchiv that uses Kinokulturhaus to show its films), it’s not because I ever hope to see everything they have to offer. It’s because having places like this is what makes us members of a human race. And London sometimes works really hard to make Londoners forget they are.
Couple of good videos I watched lately — 3 (November 20, 2016)
Category Theory for the Working Hacker. Philip Wadler, one of the most important computer scientists in existence, a person who is extremely well known within Haskell community, and a (falsely attributed) author of the quote “A monad is just a monoid in the category of endofunctors, what’s the issue?” explains what is that that we all, as practicing programmers, need to know about category theory, while nicely illustrating his talk with slides full of handwritten code.
I personally think that category theory is a very promising direction to consider when finding ways to build very large software systems from modules. My intuition about it is that on a meta-language level it offers a very useful parardigm, which is absolutely comparable in expressive power with the “code as data” paradigm of Lisp, or “code as expression” paradigm of APL-derived languages. I’ll try to elaborate on that in one of the future posts, but you can watch the video straight away.
The Secret Life of SIM Cards. This is a video on security, which is normally not the topic I deal with, but this talk is particularly fascinating because it talks about “an OS within an OS within an OS” — a software running on a SIM card, which interacts with the baseband (another specialized operating system), which, in turn, interacts with the main operating system of the phone.
Teamwork (November 13, 2016)
The concept of teamwork I briefly mention in the previous post warrants a post in itself. I’m absolutely not an authority on building and running teams, but just like anyone else in the programming profession I’ve got some of intuition about it.
First of all, it seems like good teams are rare: most companies are dysfunctional in some way or the other that sometimes make Dilbert cartoons look like the bastion of good reason. Dan Luu wrote a long entry on that recently:
Over years, advances in software engineering — which is most commonly defined as a set of practices allowing software development on an industrial scale — made it possible to at least partially work around human imperfections by established a software development process. Practices like writing unit tests, doing code reviews, adhering to coding standards and choosing low risk technologies made it possible to develop software of enormous size. Like any process, when being enforced unreasonably those practices have a chance of scaring away your best employees and potential candidates.
That’s simply because those things are not pleasant. Nobody likes writing unit tests, or renaming variables just because your reviewer has an idea of a better name. A job that advertises itself as being in a team that practices TDD to the book is most likely the one that you’d want to run away from.
However, encountering a good team that works together organically is possible. My intuition for recognizing a team like this is that it shouldn’t require you to be dumber than you are. You want to write smart code? Sure, go ahead, you shouldn’t have any reasons to think that your colleagues won’t be able to understand it.
How I learned to program pt. 2 (October 29, 2016)
This continues from part one.
First job and the discovery of teamwork
My first job was doing Java at an “e-commerce” firm. I spent some time churning out alone large amounts of code, and quickly understood that this must be the most inefficient way to deliver software. As cool as having the laser focus of the “lonely cowboy coder” is, you can achieve much more when people don’t see you as the hermit guy with the red stapler from Office Space but are instead enthusiastic about working with you and you are enthusiastic about working with them. Few years later, when I joined a really strong team at a company doing mobile call processing software, it felt even more true.
Several jobs and teams later, I still can’t really point my finger on what constitutes a great team. It may boil down to having some common ground with your colleagues, which leads to you quickly understanding each other without the need to resort to corporate speak, but I don’t know what is it.
Algebra and the rediscovery of abstractions
Turns out, reminding yourself about the math you studied in the university several years after graduating is a good way to boost your programming skills. I came back to abstract algebra recently and it feels like it’s worth it (for recovering programmers, this book may be a good introduction). Surprisingly many problems in very different domains can be expressed using a semiring or similar structure, which gives you lots of room in how you can reason about them. I, essentially, learn to write as little code as possible to achieve the same goal.
It looks like I’m not the only one out there trying to reach for this goal. Forth people have long ago discovered the usefulness of programming with as little as possible. Languages with strong type systems can help achieve the same goal.
This part is very much a work in progress, but one thing is clear to me: the problem of composing large pieces of code together without driving your development team crazy is both important and not solved. I saw many companies working with large code bases throw lots of manpower at it and I definitely would like to get better at dealing with it. It’s now fifteen years since I’ve started working in this industry — here’s for the next fifteen!
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