Frederick P. Brooks - Mythical Man-Month_ Essays on Software Engineering-Addison-Wesley Professional
Why is programming fun? What delights may its practitioner expect as his reward? First is the sheer joy of making things. As the child delights in his mud pie, so the adult enjoys building things, especially things of his own design. I think this delight must be an image of God’s delight in making things, a delight shown in the distinctness and newness of each leaf and each snowflake. Second is the pleasure of making things that are useful to other people. Deep within, we want others to use our work and to find it helpful. In this respect the programming system is not essentially different from the child’s first clay pencil holder “for Daddy’s office.” Third is the fascination of fashioning complex puzzle-like objects of interlocking moving parts and watching them work in subtle cycles, playing out the consequences of principles built in from the beginning. The programmed computer has all the fascination of the pinball machine or the jukebox mechanism, carried to the ultimate. Fourth is the joy of always learning, which springs from the nonrepeating nature of the task. In one way or another the problem is ever new, and its solver learns something: sometimes practical, sometimes theoretical, and sometimes both. Finally, there is the delight of working in such a tractable medium. The programmer, like the poet, works only slightly removed from pure thought-stuff. He builds his castles in the air, from air, creating by exertion of the imagination. Few media of creation are so flexible, so easy to polish and rework, so readily capable of realizing grand conceptual structures. (As we shall see later, this very tractability has its own problems.) Yet the program construct, unlike the poet’s words, is real in the sense that it moves and works, producing visible outputs separate from the construct itself. It prints results, draws pictures, produces sounds, moves arms. The magic of myth and legend has
Why is programming fun? What delights may its practitioner expect as his reward? First is the sheer joy of making things. As the child delights in his mud pie, so the adult enjoys building things, especially things of his own design. I think this delight must be an image of God’s delight in making things, a delight shown in the distinctness and newness of each leaf and each snowflake. Second is the pleasure of making things that are useful to other people. Deep within, we want others to use our work and to find it helpful. In this respect the programming system is not essentially different from the child’s first clay pencil holder “for Daddy’s office.” Third is the fascination of fashioning complex puzzle-like objects of interlocking moving parts and watching them work in subtle cycles, playing out the consequences of principles built in from the beginning. The programmed computer has all the fascination of the pinball machine or the jukebox mechanism, carried to the ultimate. Fourth is the joy of always learning, which springs from the nonrepeating nature of the task. In one way or another the problem is ever new, and its solver learns something: sometimes practical, sometimes theoretical, and sometimes both. Finally, there is the delight of working in such a tractable medium. The programmer, like the poet, works only slightly removed from pure thought-stuff. He builds his castles in the air, from air, creating by exertion of the imagination. Few media of creation are so flexible, so easy to polish and rework, so readily capable of realizing grand conceptual structures. (As we shall see later, this very tractability has its own problems.) Yet the program construct, unlike the poet’s words, is real in the sense that it moves and works, producing visible outputs separate from the construct itself. It prints results, draws pictures, produces sounds, moves arms. The magic of myth and legend has
Why is programming fun? What delights may its practitioner expect as his reward? First is the sheer joy of making things. As the child delights in his mud pie, so the adult enjoys building things, especially things of his own design. I think this delight must be an image of God’s delight in making things, a delight shown in the distinctness and newness of each leaf and each snowflake. Second is the pleasure of making things that are useful to other people. Deep within, we want others to use our work and to find it helpful. In this respect the programming system is not essentially different from the child’s first clay pencil holder “for Daddy’s office.” Third is the fascination of fashioning complex puzzle-like objects of interlocking moving parts and watching them work in subtle cycles, playing out the consequences of principles built in from the beginning. The programmed computer has all the fascination of the pinball machine or the jukebox mechanism, carried to the ultimate. Fourth is the joy of always learning, which springs from the nonrepeating nature of the task. In one way or another the problem is ever new, and its solver learns something: sometimes practical, sometimes theoretical, and sometimes both. Finally, there is the delight of working in such a tractable medium. The programmer, like the poet, works only slightly removed from pure thought-stuff. He builds his castles in the air, from air, creating by exertion of the imagination. Few media of creation are so flexible, so easy to polish and rework, so readily capable of realizing grand conceptual structures. (As we shall see later, this very tractability has its own problems.)
The surgeon. Mills calls him a chief programmer. He personally defines the functional and performance specifications, designs the program, codes it, tests it, and writes its documentation
The copilot. He is the alter ego of the surgeon, able to do any part of the job, but is less experienced. His main function is to share in the design as a thinkerrdiscussant, and evaluator. The surgeon tries ideas on him, but is not bound by his advice. The copilot often represents his team in discussions of function and interface with other teams. He knows all the code intimately. He researches alternative design strategies. He obviously serves as insurance against disaster to the surgeon. He may even write code, but he is not responsible for any part of the code
The editor. The surgeon is responsible for generating the documentation—for maximum clarity he must write it. This is true of both external and internal descriptions. The editor, however, takes the draft or dictated manuscript produced by the surgeon and criticizes it, reworks it, provides it with references and bibliography, nurses it through several versions, and oversees the mechanics of production
Two secretaries. The administrator and the editor will each need a secretary; the administrator’s secretary will handle project correspondence and non-product files
The program clerk. He is responsible for maintaining all the technical records of the team in a programming-product library. The clerk is trained as a secretary and has responsibility for both machine-readable and human-readable files
The toolsmith. File-editing, text-editing, and interactive debugging services are now readily available, so that a team will rarely need its own machine and machine-operating crew. But these services must be available with unquestionably satisfactory response and reliability; and the surgeon must be sole judge of the adequacy of the service available to him. He needs a toolsmith, responsible for ensuring this adequacy of the basic service and for constructing, maintaining, and upgrading special tools—mostly interactive computer services—needed by his team. Each team will need its own toolsmith, regardless of the excellence and reliability of any centrally provided service, for his job is to see to the tools needed or wanted by his surgeon, without regard to any other team’s needs. The tool-builder will often construct specialized utilities, catalogued procedures, macro libraries
The tester. The surgeon will need a bank of suitable test cases for testing pieces of his work as he writes it, and then for testing the whole thing. The tester is therefore both an adversary who devises system test cases from the functional specs, and an assistant who devises test data for the day-by-day debugging. He would also plan testing sequences and set up the scaffolding required for component tests
The language lawyer can 6nd a neat and efficient way to use the language to do difficult, obscure, or tricky things. Often he will need to do small studies (two or three days) on good technique. One language lawyer can service two or three surgeons