Scheming: The journey through functional programming, language design, insobriety and bad jokes

Chapter 1, where the story begins

Every story has to start somewhere. This one is a tour through a simplistic Scheme interpreter written in C, and every C program begins with the main() function.

void setup_runtime(void);
void do_useful_stuff(int argc, const char** argv);
void teardown_runtime(void);

int main(int argc, const char** argv)
{
	setup_runtime();
	do_useful_stuff(argc, argv);
	teardown_runtime();
}

Here I can imagine people asking, "Wait a minute, is this some kind of pseudo-C? Ain't you supposed to have #include <stdio.h> at the beginning and main() function at the very end?"

Well. There is a whole universe of possible implications behind "Ain't you supposed to do X?" questions, and I'll use them as rant fuel throughout this story. But considering the most straightforward one, which is "is C compiler okay with such way of structuring code?" the answer is "yes, it compiles just fine". It will keep failing to link until those functions will be implemented, but, as far as the compiler is concerned, forward declarations are good enough.

Moreover, this is the general pattern in this story where I follow the example of Quintus Fabius Maximus and keep postponing writing lower-level implementation of a feature until I get a handle on how it's going to be used.

This approach is called top-down, and it's not the only way to write a program. A program can also be written bottom-up by starting with individual nuts and bolts and then assembling them into a big piece of software.

There's a potential problem with the latter, though.

Let's say I start with writing a piece of the standard library. I'm certainly going to need it at some point, so it isn't an obviously wrong place to start. Oh, and I'll also need a garbage collector, so I can write one too.

But then I'm running a risk of ending up with an implementation of a chunk of Scheme standard library that is neat, and cute, and pretty, and a garbage collector that is as terrific as a garbage collector in a pet project may possibly be, and they don't quite fit!

And then I'll have a dilemma. Either I'll have to redo one or both of those pieces. Which probably won't be 100% waste, as I hope to have learned a few things on the way, but it's still double work. Or else I can refuse to accept sunk costs and then stubbornly work around the incompatibilities between my own standard library implementation and my own garbage collector. And that's just dumb.

But as long as something isn't done at all, I can be totally sure that it isn't done wrong. There's a certain Zen feeling to it.

Another thing is more subtle but will get many programmers, especially more junior ones, nervous once they figure it out. It's setup_runtime() call. It's pretty clear what it will do, which is initialize garbage collector and such, but it also implies I'm going to have the runtime, probably scattered around in a bunch of global variables.

I can almost hear voices asking, "But what if you need to have multiple runtimes? What if a customer comes and asks to make your interpreter embeddable as a scripting engine? What about multithreading? Why are you not worried?!"

The answer is, "I consciously don't care." This is just a pet project that started with me willing to tinker with Scheme. And then realizing that just writing in Scheme is too easy, so I wrote my own interpreter. And then figuring out that even that is not fun enough, so I wrapped it into a sort of "literary programming" exercise. In a (highly improbable) situation when I'll have to write my own multithreaded embeddable Scheme interpreter, I'll just start from scratch, and that's about it.

Anyway, I'll write functions to set up and tear down runtime once said runtime will take a more concrete shape. And for now, I'll focus on doing the useful stuff.

#include <stdio.h>
#include <unistd.h>

void execute(FILE*);
void execute_file(const char* filename);
void repl(void);

void do_useful_stuff(int argc, const char** argv)
{
	if (argc >= 2) {
		for (int i = 1; i < argc; i++)
			execute_file(argv[i]);
	} else if (isatty(fileno(stdin))) {
		repl();
	} else {
		execute(stdin);
	}
}

This one is pretty straightforward: when a program is launched as ./scheme foo.scm, then execute a file; when it's started as cat foo.scm | ./scheme do precisely the same, and otherwise fire up a REPL.

Now that I know that I'm going to have a function that reads code from a stream and executes it, writing a function that does the same with a file is trivial, so let's just make one.

#include <errno.h>
#include <stdlib.h>
#include <string.h>

#define DIE(fmt, ...)                                                          \
	do {                                                                   \
		fprintf(stderr, "[%s:%d] ", __FILE__, __LINE__);               \
		fprintf(stderr, fmt, ##__VA_ARGS__);                           \
		fprintf(stderr, "\n");                                         \
		abort();                                                       \
	} while (0)

FILE* fopen_or_die(const char* pathname, const char* mode)
{
	FILE* f = fopen(pathname, mode);
	if (f)
		return f;
	const char* err = strerror(errno);
	DIE("Error opening file %s: %s", pathname, err);
}

void execute_file(const char* filename)
{
	FILE* f = fopen_or_die(filename, "r");
	execute(f);
	fclose(f);
}

Some might find error handling in fopen_or_die() a bit naive. If you aren't among those, you can skip the following rant, and if you are, it's okay, there's nothing to be ashamed of, it's just natural cognitive inertia.

See, in general, when something goes wrong, you have three options:

1. You can handle the problem and continue.

2. You can abort.

3. You can notify the invoker about the problem and let them make their own choice from these same three options.

In this case, option #1 is unavailable. Because, well, failing to open a file that the interpreter is told to execute is clearly a fatal error, and there's no sane way to recover from it.

Oh, of course, there are insane ways to do it. For instance, I can just quietly skip the problematic file and later collapse in an obscure way because I can't find functions that were supposed to be defined in that file, or take your guess, but I'm not even going to spend time explaining why I'm not doing that.

Option #3 is an interesting one to reflect on as this is what many programmers would consider a natural and only alternative when #1 is not available. In fact, if you're coding on top of a rich fat framework (think Spring or Django), this indeed is the natural and only way to do it. But there's no framework here, and the operating system is effectively the invoker ("there was nothing between us... not even a condom..." yeah, horrible joke), and abort()ing is a proper way to notify the operating system about the problem. So #2 is pretty much #3, just without boilerplate code to pull error status to main() and then abort there.

Anyway, let's implement execute()

#include <stdbool.h>

struct object;
typedef struct object* object_t;

void decref(object_t);

object_t eval_repl(object_t);
object_t read_object(FILE*);

void execute(FILE* in)
{
	object_t expr;

	while ((expr = read_object(in))) {
		object_t result = eval_repl(expr);
		decref(expr);
		decref(result);
	}
}

Several things are introduced here.

The first one is struct object, which is going to be the representation of a Scheme object. It's clearly going to be some sort of a struct (I mean, we're doing C here, what else can it be); internal details of that struct I'll figure out later.

The second and the third are read_object() and eval_repl() functions that, respectively, read an object from an input stream and evaluate it in REPL context.

The last one is the decref() function that is needed because I'm going to have automatic memory management. For this, I have three options:

1. I can do reference counting. Very simple to do for as long as objects don't form reference cycles, then it gets quirky.

2. I can make a tracing garbage collector that traverses the process' memory to figure out which objects are still needed.

3. I can apply a sort of a hybrid approach where I do tracing for the sections of process' memory that are convenient to traverse and fall back to reference counting for those which aren't.

From this simple function, it's already clear that whichever method I choose must be able to deal with references from the C call stack. Analyzing them in a pure tracing manner is pretty cumbersome, so I have to count them anyway, and that's what decref() will do.

Now comes the REPL...

void write_object(FILE*, object_t obj);

void repl()
{
	object_t expr;

	printf("> ");
	while ((expr = read_object(stdin))) {
		object_t result = eval_repl(expr);
		decref(expr);

		write_object(stdout, result);
		decref(result);

		printf("\n> ");
		fflush(stdout);
	}
	printf("bye\n");
}

...which isn't particularly interesting, and we proceed to

Chapter 2, where I parse Lisp code

What's neat about implementing a Lisp dialect is that you can be done with parsing in about three pints of Guinness and then move on to funnier stuff.

Of course, "funnier" is relative here, and not just grammatically, but also in a Theory of Relativity kind of sense. I mean, the Theory of Relativity describes extreme conditions where gravity is so high that common Newtonian laws don't work any more.

Likewise, here we're venturing deep into the dark swampy forests of Nerdyland, where the common understanding of "fun" doesn't apply. By the standards of ordinary folks whose idea of having fun involves such activities as mountain skiing and dance festivals, spending evenings tinkering with the implementation of infinite recursion is hopelessly weird either way. So I mean absolutely no judgement towards those fantastic guys and gals who enjoy messing with lexers, parsers, and all that shebang. Whatever floats your boat, really!

This had to be said. Anyway, back to parsing.

int fgetc_skip(FILE*);

object_t read_atom(FILE* in);
object_t read_list(FILE* in);
object_t read_quote(FILE* in);
object_t read_string(FILE* in);

object_t read_object(FILE* in)
{
	int ch = fgetc_skip(in);
	switch (ch) {
	case EOF:
		return NULL;
	case '(':
		return read_list(in);
	case ')':
		DIE("Unmatched ')'");
	case '\'':
		return read_quote(in);
	case '"':
		return read_string(in);
	default:
		ungetc(ch, in);
		return read_atom(in);
	}
}

Lisp syntax is famously Spartan. Basically, all you get is:

• lists (those thingies with (the (astonishingly) copious) amount of parentheses),

• strings (delimited by "double quotes" or however you call that character),

• quotations (if you don't know who these are, you better look it up in Scheme spec, but basically it's a way to specify that '(+ 1 2) is literally a list with three elements and not an expression that adds two numbers),

• and atoms, which are pretty much everything else, including numbers, characters, and symbols.

So what I'm doing here is I'm looking at the first non-trivial character in the input stream, and if it's an opening parenthesis, I interpret it as a beginning of a list etc.

#include <ctype.h>

int fgetc_or_die(FILE* in)
{
	int ch = fgetc(in);
	if ((ch == EOF) && (! feof(in))) {
		const char* err = strerror(errno);
		DIE("IO error: %s", err);
	}
	return ch;
}

int fgetc_skip(FILE* in)
{
	bool comment = false, skip;
	int ch;

	do {
		ch = fgetc_or_die(in);
		if (ch == ';')
			comment = true;
		skip = comment || isspace(ch);
		if (ch == '\n')
			comment = false;
	} while ((ch != EOF) && skip);

	return ch;
}

Oh, and "the first non-trivial character" means I fast-forward through the input stream ignoring comments and whitespace until I encounter a character that's neither or reach an EOF.

There are four read_something() functions that I promised to implement, let's start with read_string()

int fgetc_read_string(FILE* in)
{
	int ch = fgetc_or_die(in);

	switch (ch) {
	case EOF:
		DIE("Premature end of input");
	case '\"':
		return EOF;
	case '\\':
		ch = fgetc_or_die(in);
		switch (ch) {
		case EOF:
			DIE("Premature end of input");
		case 'n':
			return '\n';
		}
	}

	return ch;
}

object_t wrap_string(const char*);

object_t read_string(FILE* in)
{
	char buffer[10240];
	int fill = 0, ch;

	while ((ch = fgetc_read_string(in)) != EOF) {
		buffer[fill++] = ch;
		if (fill >= 10240)
			DIE("Buffer overflow");
	}

	buffer[fill] = '\0';
	return wrap_string(buffer);
}

Nothing particularly surprising here. Just read characters into the buffer until you reach the closing double quote, then wrap the contents of the buffer into an object_t and call it a day.

Yes, this simplistic implementation will miserably fail to parse a source file with a string constant that is longer than 10K characters.

And if you take some time to think about it, hard-coded 10K bytes for buffer size is kind of interesting here. It's an arbitrary number that, on the one hand, is safely above any practical limit in terms of usefulness. I mean, of course, you can hard-code the entirety of "Crime and Punishment" as a single string constant just to humiliate a dimwit interpreter author. But within any remotely sane coding style, such blob must be offloaded to an external text file, and even a buffer that is an order of magnitude smaller should still be good enough for all reasonable intents and purposes.

On the other hand, it's also safely below any practical limit in terms of conserving memory. It can easily be an order of magnitude larger without causing any issues whatsoever.

At least on a modern general-purpose machine with a couple of gigs of memory. If you've got a PDP-7 like one that Ken Thompson used for his early development of Unix, then a hundred kilobytes might be your entire RAM, and then you have to be more thoughtful with your throwaway buffers.

By the way, it's awe-inspiring how those people in the 1960s could develop an entire real operating system on a computer like that. Well, not precisely mind-boggling, like, I myself started coding on a Soviet-made ZX Spectrum clone with 48 kilobytes of RAM, and you can't write a super-duper-sophisticated OS on such machine because it just won't fit, but still, it's so cool.

Okay, back to business. Let's parse_atom().

bool isspecial(char ch)
{
	switch (ch) {
	case '(':
	case ')':
	case ';':
	case '\"':
	case '\'':
		return true;
	default:
		return false;
	}
}

int fgetc_read_atom(FILE* in)
{
	int ch = fgetc_or_die(in);
	if (ch == EOF)
		return EOF;
	if (isspace(ch) || isspecial(ch)) {
		ungetc(ch, in);
		return EOF;
	}
	return ch;
}

object_t parse_atom(const char*);
object_t wrap_char(char ch);

object_t read_character(FILE* in)
{
	int ch = fgetc_or_die(in);
	if ((ch == EOF) || isspace(ch))
		return wrap_char(' ');
	else
		return wrap_char(ch);
}

object_t read_atom(FILE* in)
{
	char buffer[10240];
	int fill = 0, ch;

	while ((ch = fgetc_read_atom(in)) != EOF) {
		buffer[fill++] = ch;
		if (fill >= 10240)
			DIE("Buffer overflow");
	}

	if ((fill == 2) && (buffer[0] == '#') && (buffer[1] == '\\'))
		return read_character(in);

	buffer[fill] = '\0';
	return parse_atom(buffer);
}

Here I use the same approach as in read_string(): collect characters for as long as it looks like an atom, then convert it to an object_t, and that's pretty much it.

Well, the syntax for characters in Scheme is a bit wonky: you have #!\x for the letter 'x' and #\! for an exclamation mark, and, surprisingly, #!\newline and #!\space for a newline and space respectively. Oh, and #\ is also a space. Go figure.

Most of that wonkiness can be dealt with by simply reading everything up until a special character and then figuring out what I've got in parse_atom(). Unless it is a special character, e.g. #\) or #\;, those need a bit of special handling.

And now I'm looking at another buffer, and do you know what actually boggles my mind?

Remember, at the very beginning of this story, I mentioned that a C program is typically supposed to have its main() function at the end? So, what boggles my mind is why are we still doing it?

Well, I don't mean we all do. In some programming languages, it is more common, and in some, it is less, but really, why would you do it in any language? It's such a weird way to layout your code where you have to scroll all the way down to the bottom of the source file and then work your way up in a Benjamin Button kind of way.

I mean, I know it's the legacy of Pascal where you were required to have the equivalent of main() at the bottom (and finish it with an end. with a period instead of a semicolon). I also understand that, back in those days, it made sense in order to simplify the compiler that had to run on limited hardware. But why we still sometimes do it in the 2020s is a mystery to me.

Okay, enough of ranting, let's parse_atom()

object_t wrap_bool(bool v);

object_t parse_bool(const char* text)
{
	if (strcmp(text, "#f") == 0)
		return wrap_bool(false);
	if (strcmp(text, "#t") == 0)
		return wrap_bool(true);
	return NULL;
}

object_t parse_char(const char* text)
{
	if (strcmp(text, "#\\newline") == 0)
		return wrap_char('\n');
	if (strcmp(text, "#\\space") == 0)
		return wrap_char(' ');
	if (strcmp(text, "#\\") == 0)
		return wrap_char(' ');
	if ((strlen(text) == 3) && (text[0] == '#') && (text[1] == '\\'))
		return wrap_char(text[2]);
	return NULL;
}

object_t wrap_int(int value);

object_t parse_int(const char* text)
{
	int index = 0, digits = 0, accum = 0, sign = 1;

	if (text[0] == '-') {
		index = 1;
		sign = -1;
	}

	for (; text[index]; index++) {
		if (! isdigit(text[index]))
			return NULL;
		accum = accum * 10 + (text[index] - '0');
		digits++;
	}

	return (digits == 0) ? NULL : wrap_int(sign * accum);
}

object_t wrap_symbol(const char*);

object_t parse_atom(const char* buffer)
{
	object_t result;
	if ((result = parse_bool(buffer)))
		return result;
	if ((result = parse_int(buffer)))
		return result;
	if ((result = parse_char(buffer)))
		return result;
	return wrap_symbol(buffer);
}

Pretty straightforward, really. If it looks like a boolean, convert it to a boolean. If it appears to be an integer number, convert it to an integer. If it seems to be a symbol, convert it to a symbol. If it looks like a floating-point number... Convert it to a symbol because screw you!

To give a bit of a background here, this pet project of mine was never intended to be a feature-complete standards-compliant Scheme implementation. It started with solving some of "99 Lisp problems" and then escalated into writing a sufficient Scheme interpreter to run those. None of those problems relied on floating-point arithmetics, and so I didn't implement it.

Not that it's particularly hard, just tedious (if done Python-style with proper type coercions), and JavaScript solution with simply using floats for everything I find aesthetically unappealing.

What I couldn't possibly skip is lists (they didn't call it LISt Processing for nothing), so let's read_list()

Oh, and a quick remark on the naming convention. Functions like wrap_symbol() are named this way intentionally. They could easily be called, say, make_symbol(), but that would imply that it's some sort of a constructor that really makes a new object. But by the time I get to actually implement those, I might not want to be bound by this implication (because I might find out that a proper constructor doesn't conform to the language standard and/or isn't practical, and I need and/or want some sort of a cache or a pool or whatever).

So, instead, it's a vague "wrap", which stands for "get me an object that represents this value, and how you make it under the hood is none of my business."

object_t read_next_object(FILE* in)
{
	int ch = fgetc_skip(in);
	if (ch == EOF)
		DIE("Premature end of input");
	if (ch == ')')
		return NULL;
	ungetc(ch, in);
	return read_object(in);
}

void push_to_list(object_t* ptr, object_t item);
object_t reverse_read_list(object_t list);
object_t wrap_nil(void);

object_t read_list(FILE* in)
{
	object_t accum = wrap_nil(), obj;

	while ((obj = read_next_object(in))) {
		push_to_list(&accum, obj);
		decref(obj);
	}

	object_t result = reverse_read_list(accum);
	decref(accum);
	return result;
}

This one is simple but might need a bit of refresher on how lists work in Lisp (and other FP(-esque) languages).

So, your basic building block is a two-element tuple (also known as a pair). If you make a tuple with some value in the first cell and in the second cell a reference to another tuple with another value in the first cell et cetera et cetera... And then you put a special null value to the second cell of the last tuple, then you what get is a singly-linked list. Oh, and the representation of the empty list is simply the null value.

So what I do here is I read objects from the input stream and push them one by one to the front of the list until I see a closing parenthesis. But then the list ends up reversed, so I need to reverse it back. Easy.

object_t wrap_pair(object_t, object_t);

void push_to_list(object_t* ptr, object_t head)
{
	object_t tail = *ptr;
	*ptr = wrap_pair(head, tail);
	decref(tail);
}

This is such a pretty little function that utilizes call by pointer (very much a C idiom) to construct a very Lispy list. Tell me about multiparadigm programming.

Oh, and while we're at it, let's also implement reverse_read_list()

struct pair;
typedef struct pair* pair_t;

pair_t assert_pair(object_t obj, const char* context);
object_t car(pair_t);

bool is_symbol(const char* text, object_t obj);

object_t pop_from_list(object_t*);

void incref(object_t);

object_t reverse_read_list(object_t list)
{
	object_t result = wrap_nil(), obj;

	while ((obj = pop_from_list(&list))) {
		if (! is_symbol(".", obj)) {
			push_to_list(&result, obj);
			continue;
		}

		pair_t pair = assert_pair(result, "when parsing a list");
		obj = car(pair);
		incref(obj);
		decref(result);
		result = obj;
	}

	return result;
}

that simply pops things from one list and pushes them to another.

Well, except for one gotcha: . has special meaning in list notation, so that '(a . b) is not a list but is equivalent to (cons 'a 'b), and so I cater for it here.

object_t cdr(pair_t);
bool is_nil(object_t);

object_t pop_from_list(object_t* ptr)
{
	object_t obj = *ptr;
	if (is_nil(obj))
		return NULL;
	pair_t pair = assert_pair(obj, "when traversing a list");
	*ptr = cdr(pair);
	return car(pair);
}

pop_from_list() is pretty much the opposite of push_to_list() with a bit of type checking to make sure I'm dealing with a list and not something dodgy.

#define DEBUG(key, obj)                                                        \
	do {                                                                   \
		fprintf(stderr, "[%s:%d] %s = ", __FILE__, __LINE__, key);     \
		write_object(stderr, obj);                                     \
		fprintf(stderr, "\n");                                         \
	} while (0)

const char* typename(object_t);
pair_t to_pair(object_t);

pair_t assert_pair(object_t obj, const char* context)
{
	pair_t pair = to_pair(obj);
	if (pair)
		return pair;

	DEBUG("obj", obj);
	DIE("Expected a pair %s, got %s instead", context, typename(obj));
}

I still haven't decided what exactly I will put into either struct object or struct pair, but I already need to be able to convert one to another. So, I promise to write a to_pair() function that would do just that (or return NULL if the value that this object holds is not a pair), and here's write a neat little helper around it to abort with a human-readable message when the conversion fails.

object_t read_quote(FILE* in)
{
	object_t obj = read_object(in);
	if (! obj)
		DIE("Premature end of input");

	object_t result = wrap_nil();
	push_to_list(&result, obj);
	decref(obj);

	object_t keyword = wrap_symbol("quote");
	push_to_list(&result, keyword);
	decref(keyword);

	return result;
}

Since 'bla is merely a shorter version of (quote bla) parsing it is trivial, and with that in place, we're finally done with parsing and can move on to

Chapter 3, where I evaluate

By the way, I don't know if you noticed or not, but I try to use the word "we" as sparingly as I can. Perhaps it has something to do with me coming from a culture where "We" is commonly associated with the dystopian novel by Yevgeny Zamyatin.

Of course, there are legit usages for "we," such as academic writing where all of "us" are listed on the paper's first page, and the reader is interested in overall results rather than the internal dynamics of the research team.

But using "we did it" when it's actually "I did it" (and it's stylistically appropriate to say "I did it") feels to me like the speaker is a wimp who wants to avoid the responsibility.

Likewise, using "we" when it's actually "I and Joe, mostly Joe" feels like reluctance to give a fair share of the credit.

Okay, enough of that, let's implement eval_repl()

struct scope;
typedef struct scope* scope_t;

object_t eval_eager(scope_t scope, object_t expr);
scope_t get_repl_scope(void);

object_t eval_repl(object_t expr)
{
	return eval_eager(get_repl_scope(), expr);
}

That's a one-liner function that relies on two crucial concepts.

The first one is the scope. The scope is pretty much just a binding between variables' names and their values. For now, just think of it as a sort of a dictionary (it's not exactly that, but we'll get there when we get there).

Another one is the differentiation between eager and lazy evaluation. Before I go into explaining what exactly do I mean by eager and lazy evaluation in the context of this story, I first have to elaborate on the pragmatics for having all that in the first place.

So. Scheme is a functional programming language, and in functional programming, people don't do loops, but instead, they do recursion. And for infinite loops, they do, well, infinite recursion. And "infinite" here doesn't mean "enormously big," but properly infinite.

Consider this example:

(define (infinite-loop depth)
	(display (list depth 'bla))
	(display #\newline)
	(infinite-loop (+ 1 depth)))

(infinite-loop 0)

Obviously, a direct equivalent of this code in vanilla C/C++/Ruby/Python/Java will run for some time and eventually blow up with a stack overflow. But code in Scheme, well, better shouldn't.

I have three ways to deal with it:

1. Just do nothing and hope that the C stack will not overflow.

2. Do code rewriting so that, under the hood, the snippet above is automagically converted into a loop, e.g.

(define (infinite-loop depth)
	(loop
		(display depth)
		(display #\newline)
		(set! depth (+ 1 depth))))

3. Apply the technique called trampolining. Semantically it means

(define (infinite-loop depth)
	(display (list depth 'bla))
	(display #\newline)
	(invoke-later infinite-loop (+ 1 depth)))

that instead of calling itself, function... Well, to generalize and to simplify, let's say it informs the evaluator that computation is incomplete and also tells what to do next in order to complete it.

#1 looks like a joke, but actually, it's a pretty good solution. It's also a pretty bad solution, but let's get through the upsides first.

First of all, it's trivial to implement (because it doesn't require writing any specific code). It clearly won't introduce any quirky bugs (because there's no specific code!). And it won't have any performance impact (because it does nothing!!)

You see, "just do nothing" half of it is all good; it's the "and hope that" part that isn't. Although for simple examples, it doesn't really matter: provided there are a couple of thousands of stack levels available, it's gonna be okay with or without optimizations. But a more complex program may eventually hit that boundary, and then I'll have to get around deficiencies of my code in, well, my other code, and that's not a place I'd like to get myself into.

This also sets a constraint on what a "proper" solution should be: it must be provably reliable for a complex piece of code, or else it's back to square one.

#2 looks like a super fun thing to play with, and it seems deceptively simple for toy snippets. But thinking just a tiny bit about pesky stuff like mutually recursive functions, and self-modifying-ish code (think (set! infinite-loop something-else) from within infinite-loop), and escape procedures and whatnot... And all this starts to feel like a breeding ground for wacky corner cases, and I don't want to commit to being able to weed them all out.

#3, on the contrary, is pretty straightforward, both conceptually and implementation-wise, so that's what I'll do (although I might do #2 on top of it later; because it looks like a super fun thing to play with).

Now let's get back to lazy vs eager. "Lazy" in this context means that the evaluation function may return either a result (if computation is finished) or a thunk (a special object that describes what to do next). Whereas "eager" means that the evaluation function will always return the final result.

"Eager" evaluation can be easily arranged by getting a "lazy" result first...

object_t eval_lazy(scope_t scope, object_t expr);
object_t force(object_t value);

object_t eval_eager(scope_t scope, object_t expr)
{
	object_t result_or_thunk = eval_lazy(scope, expr);
	return force(result_or_thunk);
}

...and then reevaluating it until the computation is complete.

struct thunk;
typedef struct thunk* thunk_t;

object_t eval_thunk(thunk_t thunk);
thunk_t to_thunk(object_t obj);

object_t force(object_t value)
{
	thunk_t thunk;

	while ((thunk = to_thunk(value))) {
		object_t new_value = eval_thunk(thunk);
		decref(value);
		value = new_value;
	}

	return value;
}

You know, I've just realized it's the third time in this story when I say, "I have three ways to deal with it," the previous two being considerations about memory management and error handling in Chapter 1.

Moreover, I noticed a pattern. In a generalized form, those three options to choose from are:

1. Consider yourself lucky. Assume things won't go wrong. Don't worry that your solution is too optimistic.

2. Consider yourself clever. Assume you'll be able to fix every bug. Don't worry that your solution is too complex.

3. Just bloody admit that you're a dumb loser. Design a balanced solution that is resilient while still reasonable.

This is such a deep topic that I'm not even going to try to cover it in one take, but I'm damn sure I'll be getting back to it repeatedly.

For now, let's continue with eval_lazy()

struct symbol;
typedef struct symbol* symbol_t;

symbol_t to_symbol(object_t);

object_t eval_sexpr(scope_t, object_t head, object_t body);
object_t eval_var(scope_t scope, symbol_t key);

object_t eval_lazy(scope_t scope, object_t expr)
{
	symbol_t varname = to_symbol(expr);
	if (varname)
		return eval_var(scope, varname);

	pair_t sexpr = to_pair(expr);
	if (sexpr)
		return eval_sexpr(scope, car(sexpr), cdr(sexpr));

	incref(expr);
	return expr;
}

This is relatively straightforward: if it's a symbol, treat it as a name of the variable, if it's a list, treat it as a symbolic expression, and otherwise just evaluate it to itself (so that (eval "bla") is simply "bla")

object_t lookup_in_scope(scope_t scope, symbol_t key);
const char* unwrap_symbol(symbol_t);

object_t eval_var(scope_t scope, symbol_t key)
{
	object_t result = lookup_in_scope(scope, key);
	if (! result)
		DIE("Undefined variable %s", unwrap_symbol(key));
	incref(result);
	return result;
}

Evaluating a variable is pretty much just look it up in the current scope and DIE() if it's not there.

object_t eval_funcall(scope_t scope, object_t func, object_t exprs);
object_t eval_syntax(scope_t scope, object_t syntax, object_t body);

object_t eval_sexpr(scope_t scope, object_t head, object_t body)
{
	object_t syntax_or_func = eval_eager(scope, head);

	object_t result = eval_syntax(scope, syntax_or_func, body);
	if (! result)
		result = eval_funcall(scope, syntax_or_func, body);

	decref(syntax_or_func);
	return result;
}

And evaluating an expression is... Well, if you ever wondered why the hell they use so many of those bloody parentheses in Lisps, here's your answer.

In most programming languages (mainstream ones anyway), syntax constructs and functions are two fundamentally different kinds of creatures. They don't just behave differently, but they also look differently, and you can't mix them up.

Much less so in Lisp, where you have (if foo bar) for conditional, and (+ foo bar) to add two numbers, and (cons foo bar) to make a pair, and you can't help but notice they look pretty darn similar.

Moreover, even though they behave differently, it's not that dissimilar either. + and cons are functions that accept values of foo and bar and do something with them. Whereas if is also simply a function, only instead of values of its' arguments, it accepts a chunk of code verbatim.

Let me reiterate: a syntax construct is merely a data manipulation function that happens to have program's code as the data that it manipulates. Oh, and code as data is not some runtime introspection shamanistic voodoo, but it's just regular lists and symbols and what have you.

And all of that is enabled by using the same notation for data and for code. That's why parentheses are so cool.

So, with the explanation above in mind, pretty much all this function does is: first, it evaluates the first item of the S-expression, and then looks at what it is. If it happens to be an "I want the code as is" function, then it's fed code as-is. Otherwise, it is treated as an "I want values of the arguments" function instead. That's it.

If my little story is your first encounter with Lisp, I can imagine how mind-blowing can this be. Let it sink in, take your time.

struct lambda;
typedef struct lambda* lambda_t;

lambda_t to_lambda(object_t);

object_t invoke(object_t, int, object_t*);
object_t wrap_thunk(lambda_t, int, object_t*);

object_t eval_funcall(scope_t scope, object_t func, object_t exprs)
{
	object_t args[64], expr;
	int argct = 0;

	while ((expr = pop_from_list(&exprs))) {
		if (argct >= 64)
			DIE("Buffer overflow");
		args[argct++] = eval_eager(scope, expr);
	}

	lambda_t lambda = to_lambda(func);
	if (lambda)
		return wrap_thunk(lambda, argct, args);

	return invoke(func, argct, args);
}

This one is not very complicated: go through the list, evaluate the stuff you have there, then either feed it to a function or make a thunk to evaluate it later.

There are few minor funky optimizations to mention, though.

1. I put arguments into a buffer and not to a list. I mean, lists are superb for everything except two things. They're not as efficient for "just give me an element at index X" random access, and they're kinda clumsy when it comes to memory allocation. And these are two things I really won't mind having for a function call: as much as I don't care about performance, having to do three malloc()s just to call a function of three arguments feels sorta wasteful.

2. I introduce lambda_t type for functions that are implemented in Scheme and require tail-call optimizations. This is done to separate them from built-in functions, which are written in C and are supposed to be hand-optimized, making lazy call overhead avoidable and unnecessary.

3. I cap the maximum number of arguments that a function may have at 64. I even drafted a tirade to rationalize that... But I'm running out of Chardonnay, so let's park it for now and move on to

Chapter 4, where I finally write some code in Scheme

Somewhere around Chapter 2, I mentioned that this whole story began with the list of "99 Lisp problems."

So, let's start with the first task on the list, which is:

Find the last box of a list.

Example:

* (my-last '(a b c d))

(D)

That's an easy puzzle, here's the solution:

(define (my-last x)
    (if (null? (cdr x))
        x
        (my-last (cdr x))))

(write (my-last '(a b c d)))
(newline)

A list of problems like that one, where you start with something trivial and then work your way towards something more complex, is a great way to learn a programming language. I mean, you start at level 1, and you figure out the least sufficient fraction of the language that enables you to write a simple yet complete and self-contained program. Once that knowledge sinks in, you move on to level 2 and learn a bit more, and by the time you reach the finale, you have a pretty good command of the whole thing.

At least, this is how it works for me. If there is anybody out there, who needs to memorize the whole language standard and pass theory exams before they can start writing any code, that's fine, I don't judge.

Oh, and of course, it only applies when I'm in relatively unfamiliar territory. If you ask me, after all those years I spent writing backends in Python and Java, to do some, I dunno, Node.js, I'd be, like, "Hmm, so you guys use curly braces here? That's neat." and then just pick a real problem straight away.

But also, and maybe even more so, I find it an outstanding way to implement a language. So, instead of spending months and months to build a whole standards-compliant thing, just make something that enables that little self-contained program to run and then iterate from there.

That said. To get that little function above running, I need three syntax constructs, namely define, if, and quote. And I also need four standard library functions, which are null?, cdr, write, and newline.

Let's start with null?

void assert_arg_count(const char* name, int actual, int expected);

object_t native_nullp(int argct, object_t* args) // null?
{
	assert_arg_count("null?", argct, 1);
	return wrap_bool(is_nil(args[0]));
}

The functional part of this function is pretty trivial: I've defined wrap_bool() and is_nil() earlier, and now I just use them here.

The code that surrounds that logic needs some clarifications, though.

One thing is passing arguments as an array and not... Well, what else can you do here is a bloody good question.

See, in Scheme:

• some functions accept a fixed number of arguments (e.g. car accepts exactly one and cons accepts exactly two)

• some functions accept a variable number of arguments (like write that we'll get to in a bit which can have one or two)

• and some functions accept an arbitrary number of arguments (like list that can have as many arguments as you give it)

Oh, and the host language is still good ol' C, so you can have as much run-time metadata attached to a function as you want. For as long as you can figure out a way to do it all yourself.

That's why the sanest interface I could come up with is simply passing an array of arguments and then letting the function itself figure out if it's happy with what it got or if it isn't, and here I'm doing exactly that.

The other thing that needs explanation is that little // null? comment. Why it is there is because I need this function to eventually end up in REPL scope, which means I'll have to have a registration function that will put it there. But I'm also not eager to maintain it manually, so I've put together a script that scans the source file and generates the code for me.

Well, and since Scheme allows some characters for identifiers that C doesn't, I can't simply name this function native_null?, hence I have to provide the Scheme name separately, which is the purpose of that little comment.

In fact, here's the script. People with superstitions about programmatically patching sources during the build might need a few deep breaths.

match($0, /^object_t (syntax_.+)\(.+\) \/\/ ([^[:space:]]+)$/, cap) {
    syntax_to_fun[cap[2]] = cap[1]
}

match($0, /^object_t (native_.+)\(.+\) \/\/ ([^[:space:]]+)$/, cap) {
    native_to_fun[cap[2]] = cap[1]
}

/\/\/ CODE BELOW IS AUTOGENERATED/ {
    codegen()
    exit(0)
}

{
    print $0
}

ENDFILE {
    codegen()
}

function codegen() {
    print "// CODE BELOW IS AUTOGENERATED"
    print "void register_builtins(void)"
    print "{"

    for (syntax in syntax_to_fun) {
        fun = syntax_to_fun[syntax]
        print "\tregister_syntax(\"" syntax "\", " fun ");"
    }

    for (native in native_to_fun) {
        fun = native_to_fun[native]
        print "\tregister_native(\"" native "\", " fun ");"
    }
    
    print "}"
}

Looks tad awkward (it's because it's written in AWK... yes, a mandatory lame pun), but it does the trick.

This setup relies on two functions being available, so let's promise to do them later.

void register_syntax(const char* name, object_t (*func)(scope_t, object_t));
void register_native(const char* name, object_t (*func)(int, object_t*));

Okay, now let's do cdr.

object_t native_cdr(int argct, object_t* args) // cdr
{
	assert_arg_count("cdr", argct, 1);
	pair_t pair = assert_pair(args[0], "as an argument #1 of cdr");
	object_t result = cdr(pair);
	incref(result);
	return result;
}

With all the gotchas already explained, this code is so straightforward that I don't want to talk about it.

Instead, I want to talk about sports. My favourite kind of physical activity is long-distance running. Really long distance running. Which means marathons.

Now, as we all know, some things are easy, and some are hard. Also, some things are simple, and some are complex. And also, there's a belief among certain people from Nerd and Nerdish tribes that simple things must be easy and that hard things must be complex.

I admit I had few too many White Zinfandels on my way here, so you'll have to endure me rambling all over the place. That said. Nerd tribe is a well-established notion, so I'm not gonna explain what it is. While the Nerdish tribe is a particular type of people, who were taught that being clever is kinda cool but weren't taught how to be properly smart. So they just keep pounding you with their erudition and intellect, even if the situation is such that a properly smart thing to do would be to just shut the fuck up.

Anyway. Marathons prove that belief to be wrong. Conceptually, running a marathon is very simple: you just put one foot in front of the other, and that's pretty much it. But the sheer amount of how many times you should do that to complete a 42.2-kilometre distance is what makes a marathon pretty hard, and dealing with that hardness is what makes it more complex than it seems.

In fact, there's a whole bunch of stuff that comes into play: physical training regimen, mental prep, choice of gear, diet, rhythm, pace, handling of weather conditions, even choice of music for the playlist.

In broad terms, the options I choose can be split into three categories:

1. Stuff that works for me. It has never been perfect, but if I generally get it right, then by 38th kilometre, I'm enjoying myself and singing along to whatever Russian punk rock I've got in my headphones and looking forward to a medal and a beer.

2. Stuff that doesn't work for me. If I get too much stuff wrong, then by 38th kilometre, I'm lying on the tarmac and hope that the race organizers have a gun to end my suffering.

3. Stuff that I really really want to work as it looks so awesome in theory, but it still doesn't, so in the end, it's still lying on the tarmac and praying for a quick death.

As a matter of fact, doing marathons has really helped me to crystallize my views on engineering: if an idea looks really great on paper, but hasn't been tested in battle, then, well, you know, it looks really great. On paper.

Okay, while we're at it, let's also do car.

object_t native_car(int argct, object_t* args) // car
{
	assert_arg_count("car", argct, 1);
	pair_t pair = assert_pair(args[0], "as an argument #1 of car");
	object_t result = car(pair);
	incref(result);
	return result;
}

This function is as straightforward as the previous one, so I don't want to talk about it either. Instead, I want to talk about philosophy.

Quite a few times in this story, I said, "there are three ways to do it / three options to choose from / three categories it falls into." And it's not just my personal gimmick with number 3, but in fact, it's Hegelian(-ish) dialectic.

Just to be clear, I'm not nearly as good at philosophy as I am at programming, and you can see how mediocre my code is. With that in mind, the best way I can explain it is this.

Imagine you've been told that the language you can use in an upcoming project can be either Java or Ancient Greek. And you're, like, wait a minute, but how can I choose between Java and Ancient Greek?

This is a perfectly valid question. But we're going to take one step deeper and look into what makes it perfectly valid. And, well, it's because while both Java and Ancient Greek are languages, there's otherwise not much common between them, and that's why there's no readily available frame of reference in which they can be compared.

And what it means is that you can only compare sufficiently similar things, or else you simply can't define criteria for such comparison.

This idea sounds obscenely trivial (like most philosophy does after stripping out all the smartass fluff), but in fact, it's immensely powerful.

One way to practically apply this idea is: when choosing between multiple options, don't jump immediately into the differences between them, but instead start by challenging the commonalities.

Say you're deciding whether to build an application with Django or with Rails. Both are rich web frameworks that utilize dynamically typed languages. This means you implicitly excluded:

• statically typed languages (Java, Go, Kotlin, ...)

• micro-frameworks (Flask, Express, ...)

• non-web applications (desktop, mobile, CLI, ...)

• using an off-the-shelf solution instead of building your own

Do you agree with all these choices? If yes, great, go ahead with your Django versus Rails analysis. If no, well, you might have just saved yourself from putting a lot of effort into the wrong thing.

A more advanced method is this:

1. Start with some idea.

2. Design an alternative idea that is different from the first one in every way you could think of.

3. Look at two options at hand and find the similarities between them that you didn't even think about. Those are your blind spots.

4. Come up with a synthetic idea that takes your newly found blind spots into account.

5. Repeat until you run out of blind spots and cover the entire decision space for the problem you're solving.

Just try it out, and you'll see how powerful these techniques are.

Okay, enough philosophy, let's get back to coding and do some I/O.

struct port;
typedef struct port* port_t;

void assert_vararg_count(const char* name, int actual, int least, int most);
port_t assert_port(object_t obj, const char* context);
FILE* unwrap_port(port_t);

object_t native_write(int argct, object_t* args) // write
{
	assert_vararg_count("write", argct, 1, 2);

	FILE* out = stdout;
	if (argct > 1) {
		port_t port =
			assert_port(args[1], "as an argument #2 of write");
		out = unwrap_port(port);
	}

	write_object(out, args[0]);
	return wrap_nil();
}

Nothing particularly spectacular here. "Port" is how they call a stream (or a file handler or what have you) in Scheme. Oh, and it also can accept one or two arguments. Aside from that, it's all straightforward.

object_t native_newline(int argct, object_t* args) // newline
{
	assert_vararg_count("newline", argct, 0, 1);

	FILE* out = stdout;
	if (argct > 0) {
		port_t port =
			assert_port(args[0], "as an argument #2 of newline");
		out = unwrap_port(port);
	}

	fputs("\n", out);
	return wrap_nil();
}

So is this one. Now I'll do something more complex and evaluate syntax for if

#define ASSERT(expr, fmt, ...)                                                 \
	do {                                                                   \
		if (! (expr))                                                  \
			DIE(fmt, ##__VA_ARGS__);                               \
	} while (0)

bool is_true(object_t);

bool eval_boolean(scope_t scope, object_t code)
{
	object_t value = eval_eager(scope, code);
	bool flag = is_true(value);
	decref(value);
	return flag;
}

object_t syntax_if(scope_t scope, object_t code) // if
{
	object_t test = pop_from_list(&code);
	ASSERT(test, "`if` without <test> part");

	object_t consequent = pop_from_list(&code);
	ASSERT(consequent, "`if` without <consequent> part");

	object_t alternate = pop_from_list(&code);
	ASSERT(is_nil(code), "Malformed `if`");

	if (eval_boolean(scope, test))
		return eval_lazy(scope, consequent);
	else if (alternate)
		return eval_lazy(scope, alternate);
	else
		return wrap_nil();
}

A tiny bit more complex, really. See, when the code you interpret is in a convenient standard data structure, it really takes effort and determination to make things hard. And although I (obviously) have a rant on this topic, I think I put enough random ramblings into this chapter already, so I'm going to park it for now and instead evaluate define.

symbol_t assert_symbol(object_t, const char* context);

void define(scope_t, symbol_t key, object_t value);
object_t wrap_lambda(scope_t, object_t formals, object_t code);

object_t syntax_define(scope_t scope, object_t code) // define
{
	object_t head = pop_from_list(&code);
	ASSERT(head, "Malformed `define`");

	symbol_t key;
	object_t value;
	pair_t key_params;

	if ((key = to_symbol(head))) {
		object_t expr = pop_from_list(&code);
		ASSERT(expr, "`define` block without <expression>");
		ASSERT(is_nil(code), "Malformed `define`");
		value = eval_eager(scope, expr);
	} else if ((key_params = to_pair(head))) {
		key = assert_symbol(car(key_params),
				    "variable name in `define`");
		value = wrap_lambda(scope, cdr(key_params), code);
	} else {
		DEBUG("head", head);
		DIE("Malformed `define`");
	}

	define(scope, key, value);
	decref(value);
	return wrap_nil();
}

This one is a little bit trickier, but that's just because Scheme has an alternative form for define so that (define (foo bar) bla bla) is equivalent to (define foo (lambda (bar) bla bla)), and I have to handle both cases.

void bind_to_scope(scope_t, symbol_t key, object_t value);
void set_label(object_t obj, symbol_t label);

void define(scope_t scope, symbol_t key, object_t value)
{
	bind_to_scope(scope, key, value);
	set_label(value, key);
}

And define() does just two things: it binds the value to the scope and it assigns a label to an object. Rationale for the latter is that if you have a function and that function does something dumb, then for error reporting it's convenient to know it's called do-something-dumb.

object_t syntax_quote(scope_t scope, object_t code) // quote
{
	object_t result = pop_from_list(&code);
	ASSERT(result, "Malformed `quote`");
	incref(result);
	return result;
}

quote is the shortest of the three, and is also the most descriptive when it comes to symmetry between code and data (because here the former quite literally becomes the latter).

Now, I promised to make a handful of simple helpers, so I'm just going to do it to get them out of the way.

void assert_arg_count(const char* name, int actual, int expected)
{
	if (actual != expected)
		DIE("Expected %d arguments for %s, got %d",
		    expected,
		    name,
		    actual);
}

void assert_vararg_count(const char* name, int actual, int least, int most)
{
	if (actual < least)
		DIE("Expected at least %d arguments for %s, got %d",
		    least,
		    name,
		    actual);

	if (actual > most)
		DIE("Expected at most %d arguments for %s, got %d",
		    most,
		    name,
		    actual);
}

port_t to_port(object_t);

port_t assert_port(object_t obj, const char* context)
{
	port_t port = to_port(obj);
	if (port)
		return port;

	DEBUG("obj", obj);
	DIE("Expected a port %s, got %s instead", context, typename(obj));
}

symbol_t assert_symbol(object_t obj, const char* context)
{
	symbol_t sym = to_symbol(obj);
	if (sym)
		return sym;

	DEBUG("obj", obj);
	DIE("Expected a symbol %s, got %s instead", context, typename(obj));
}

And this is a neat place to wrap up this chapter and move on to

Chapter 5, where I reinvent the wheel and then collect garbage

I think I mentioned Pascal somewhere in Chapter 2 of this story. As I remember, I haven't touched it since high school, which makes it two decades, give or take a year. But, truth be told, I (very briefly) dabbled with the idea of using Pascal in this very project. I mean, implementing an obscure programming language in another obscure programming language, just how cool is that!

Then I scanned the manual for Free Pascal and realized that no, this is definitely not going to fly. The show-stopper was Pascal's lack of forward declaration for types. So that you must define a type above the places where you use it, or else it's an error. And if it doesn't seem like such a big deal, have you noticed that by now, I wrote a full-fledged parser, and a good chunk of an evaluation engine, and few bits of the standard library, and I still haven't defined a single concrete data type. I just said, "oh yeah, this is a pointer to struct object, don't ask," and the C compiler was, like, "okay, I'm cool with that." But in Pascal, it's apparently illegal.

And no, this is not just a fun gimmick. In fact, it's an experiment in tackling one of the most challenging problems in the entire field of software engineering. Which is: how to demonstrate that the design of your program makes any sense?

One solution is to have a design spec... But wait, let's take a step back.

One option is to go, let's call it aggressively ultra-pragmatic, and to perform a variation of "This program WORKS! People USE IT! How DARE you ask for more than that?! Why do you even CARE?!"

Or something like that. And that's fine. I mean, if your boss is cool with that, and your customers are cool with that, and your coworkers are cool with that, who am I to judge, really?

But this disclaimer had to be made. Before I dive into ranting about suboptimal solutions, I'm obliged to give proper credit to people who at least acknowledge the problem. Or else it'd be like being told that "compared to serious runners, you're below mediocre" by people who haven't exercised for, I dunno, four reincarnations.

So. One way to tackle this problem is to have a design spec where you use natural human language to elaborate the underlying logic, interactions between individual pieces, decisions made, and all that stuff. It's not a bad idea per se, but it has... Not so much a pitfall, but more like a fundamental limitation: you can't just give your design document to a computer and tell it to execute it. You still have to write machine-readable code. So you end up with two intrinsically independent artefacts, and unless you have a proper process to prevent it, they get out of sync, and your spec becomes "more what you call guidelines" than actual spec.

Another option is to stick with code and code only and then make sure it's excellent: concise functions, transparent interfaces, meaningful naming, all the good stuff. And while it's unquestionably a great idea, it has its own fundamental limitation: programming languages just aren't particularly fit for expressing intent. I mean, using code itself, you can get pretty far with explaining how your program works, but not such much why. For that, you still need some kind of documentation.

And so my idea, and, keep in mind, it's an ongoing experiment and not The Next Silver Bullet for which I'm selling certifications, was to essentially combine the two in such a way that the whole thing has a logical flow of a spec. But then the code is organically embedded into it. But then, in the end, it's just a regular program (albeit with profuse comments) that can be compiled by a vanilla compiler rather than some "literate programming" contraption.

And for this, the code layout rules in the underlying programming language must be as libertarian as possible. Or else you end up with a lot of handwaving that this data type must have such and such fields even though you won't be able to justify their necessity until fifty pages later.

All this was an extremely long introduction to the very first proper data type in this program. But finally, I proudly present you

struct array {
	object_t* data;
	int avail;
	int size;
};

typedef struct array* array_t;

and after seeing it, you're obliged to ask, "Dude, but why don't you use C++? At least you'll get std::vector for free!"

And that's indeed a reasonable question. I even agree that from a practical standpoint C++ would be at least as good as plain C and likely better.

However, for a project like this one, the very concept of a "practical standpoint" is a slippery slope. Because right after "but why don't you use C++ and get std::vector for free?" comes "but why don't you use Java and get garbage collector for free?" and then "but why you don't just apt install scheme?" and eventually "but why you don't learn some hipper language?"

And then you find yourself surrounded by weirdos at a shady Kotlin meetup, and you lost count of how many tasteless beers you had, and you're wondering if things will end very badly or even worse.

No, really, the purpose of this whole undertaking is not to build anything. It's not even to learn, not something specific anyway, but mostly just to have fun doing it. Essentially it's simply one extensive coding exercise. And that's why one of the guiding principles here is when choosing between a more practical option and one that's less practical but still reasonable, go for the latter.

Oh, and "still reasonable" explains why I use plain C and not, I dunno, Fortran 66. Writing a Scheme interpreter in Fortran 66 will get you deep into "pain and humiliation for the sake of pain and humiliation" territory. Of course, there's absolutely nothing wrong with enjoying some pain and humiliation, except that a computer is not the best home appliance to use for these purposes if you get what I mean.

Anyway. A dynamically expandable array is one of the most trivial things in this entire story, and I'm not going to spend any time explaining it.

void init_array(array_t arr)
{
	arr->data = malloc(sizeof(object_t) * 8);
	arr->avail = 8;
	arr->size = 0;
}

void dispose_array(array_t arr)
{
	free(arr->data);
}

void push_to_array(array_t arr, object_t entry)
{
	if (arr->size == arr->avail) {
		arr->avail *= 2;
		arr->data = realloc(arr->data, sizeof(object_t) * arr->avail);
	}
	arr->data[arr->size++] = entry;
}

object_t pop_from_array(array_t arr)
{
	if (arr->size == 0)
		return NULL;
	return arr->data[--arr->size];
}

But the reason why I suddenly decided I need a dynamically expandable list is because I'm gonna need it to build a garbage collector. Not that I really need a garbage collector, but when you have a parser, and an evaluation engine, and a chunk of the standard library, it's so hard to resist from a not-so-subtle Hunter S. Thompson reference.

Of course, I need a garbage collector in my Scheme interpreter, but it doesn't have to be very sophisticated. A simplistic mark-and-sweep would suffice.

During the mark-and-sweep garbage collection, an object can be in one of three states:

enum gc_state {
	REACHED,
	REACHABLE,
	GARBAGE,
};

REACHED means this object is reachable from the call stack, global scope and/or other reachable objects, and we've already propagated its reachability to the objects it refers to (if any).

REACHABLE means this object is reachable, but we haven't propagated its reachability yet.

GARBAGE means this object is not reachable and (assuming we examined all objects we have) can be safely disposed of.

And then entire algorithm consists of three steps.

void mark_globally_reachable(void);
void propagate_reachability(void);
void dispose_garbage(void);

void collect_garbage()
{
	mark_globally_reachable();
	propagate_reachability();
	dispose_garbage();
}

First, mark globally reachable objects as such.

struct array ALL_OBJECTS;
struct array REACHABLE_OBJECTS;

bool hasrefs(object_t);
void set_gc_state(object_t, enum gc_state);

void mark_globally_reachable(void)
{
	REACHABLE_OBJECTS.size = 0;

	for (int i = ALL_OBJECTS.size - 1; i >= 0; i--) {
		object_t obj = ALL_OBJECTS.data[i];

		if (! hasrefs(obj)) {
			set_gc_state(obj, GARBAGE);
			continue;
		}

		set_gc_state(obj, REACHABLE);
		push_to_array(&REACHABLE_OBJECTS, obj);
	}
}

Then propagate reachability.

enum gc_state get_gc_state(object_t);
void reach(object_t);

void propagate_reachability(void)
{
	object_t obj;

	while ((obj = pop_from_array(&REACHABLE_OBJECTS)))
		if (get_gc_state(obj) == REACHABLE)
			reach(obj);
}

And finally, dispose of garbage.

void dispose(object_t);

void dispose_garbage(void)
{
	int scan, keep = 0, count = ALL_OBJECTS.size;

	for (scan = 0; scan < count; scan++) {
		object_t obj = ALL_OBJECTS.data[scan];
		if (get_gc_state(obj) == REACHED) {
			ALL_OBJECTS.data[keep++] = obj;
			continue;
		}
		dispose(obj);
	}

	ALL_OBJECTS.size = keep;
}

And now we can proceed to

Chapter 6, where things become objective

But before that, they'll stay subjective for few more paragraphs.

One of the major influences on me and my work on this project is Dan Carlin of "Hardcore History" fame, and if you don't know the "Hardcore History" podcast, you should definitely check it out; it's outstanding.

One particular thing I love about that podcast is how Dan tells his stories in such a way that they're incredibly informative, and I myself learned an awful lot about history by listening and re-listening his podcasts over the past decade.

At the same time, they clearly won't qualify for "educational," and by "educational," I mean a particular type of teacher-student dynamics, one that is built around student having precise pragmatic reasons to learn the topic. So that you study X because you want to find a job, pass an exam, get a promotion, earn money, or anything like that. And then it's the teacher's responsibility to maximize the utility of the course, even if it comes at the cost of leaving out things that are exciting, insightful, or just fun but not immediately practical.

Now, "Hardcore History" (as well as a good bunch of books, YouTube channels and other podcasts) is nothing like a class that you have to pass to get a pay raise. Instead, it's much more like a group of amateurs sitting around a campfire and sharing stories about Punic Wars, or exoplanets, or functional programming, and just having fun. This is pretty much the vibe I want in my own work, and if you expected a programming textbook, feel free to ask your money back. Although, it's chapter six already, so I think you should've figured that out by now.

And no, I'm not saying that learning useful stuff is somehow wrong. It's good, at the very least, it's, well, useful. However, if everything you study always has to be practical, you effectively imply that pure unrestrained curiosity is something to be embarrassed about.

And that I find sad.

Anyway, let's get objective and let's finally declare the struct object that was defined back in the first chapter.

So far, there are 41 functions (boy, that escalated quickly!) that I promised to implement later, and they can be separated into five categories:

1. Ones with very specific types of either arguments or results: car, cdr, define, eval_syntax, eval_thunk, is_nil, is_symbol, is_true, to_*s, unwrap_*s, wrap_*s.

2. Ones that have something to do with memory management: decref, hasrefs, incref, get_gc_state, set_gc_state.

3. Ones that are used to implement scoping mechanisms and/or to maintain runtime environment in general: define, get_repl_scope, lookup_in_scope, register_syntax, register_native, setup_runtime, teardown_runtime.

4. Ones that should do different things depending on input type: dispose, invoke, reach, set_label, typename, write_object.

5. No, actually, there's no fifth category. These four pretty much cover everything I've promised so far.

So. There are two important ideas to take away from this analysis. The first one is that struct object should contain some sort of a type marker to enable (4) and also (1). The second one is that the only other functionality relevant for every object is the memory management machinery.

So let's do just that. Let's promise to introduce a type marker that (as always) we'll figure out later.

struct type;
typedef struct type* type_t;

Now, for memory management, it's pretty evident that we need a counter for stack references and an enum gc_state field for, well, GC state, which means we can (finally! hooray!) define struct object.

struct object {
	type_t type;
	unsigned stackrefs;
	enum gc_state gc_state;
};

Functions for manipulating reference counter and GC state are as trivial as it ever gets, so I'll just write them down.

void decref(object_t obj)
{
	ASSERT(obj->stackrefs > 0, "decref() without matching incref()");
	obj->stackrefs--;
}

bool hasrefs(object_t obj)
{
	return obj->stackrefs > 0;
}

void incref(object_t obj)
{
	obj->stackrefs++;
}

enum gc_state get_gc_state(object_t obj)
{
	return obj->gc_state;
}

void set_gc_state(object_t obj, enum gc_state s)
{
	obj->gc_state = s;
}

Now I need to figure out how to represent type information.

One way to do it is by having a simple enum type to act as a type marker, and then do the polymorphic dispatch using a simple (although possibly lengthy) switch, i.e.

void reach(object_t obj)
{
	switch (obj->type)
	{
	case TYPE_STRING:
		reach_string(obj);
		break;
	case TYPE_PAIR:
		reach_pair(obj);
		break;
	...
	}
}

It's not a bad idea per se. In fact, this is how early drafts of this story were implemented, and it can work okay. But it has narrative issues.

Yes, narrative, remember this is still a literary programming exercise?

Basically, the problem here is that when writing such a switch, I have to list all applicable types. But this means I'm forced to work out all types before I write the function, and then I'm forbidden to add any new ones after I'm done. And these limitations I find pretty inconvenient.

In principle, I can try to pull out something with fancy code generation in a similar vein to how I register native functions and syntax processors. But I've a gut feeling that it's gonna be nasty: all these functions are slightly different, some return values, others don't, some should do nothing by default, others should do something, and expressing all that in a way that is edible by a code generator, but still looks like proper C code is gonna be tricky and convoluted. Didn't try that, actually, and don't really want to.

What I came up with instead is this:

struct type {
	const char* name;
	void (*display)(FILE*, object_t);
	void (*dispose)(object_t);
	object_t (*invoke)(object_t func, int argc, object_t* args);
	void (*label)(object_t obj, symbol_t label);
	void (*reach)(object_t);
	void (*write)(FILE*, object_t);
};

And yes, after seeing it, you're obliged to ask, "Dude, but seriously, why don't you just use C++, or, like, literally any language that gives you vtables for free?"

Reason number one was, obviously, because I wanted to make my own vtable! I mean, one can spend many years writing code in something like Java or Python and just accept virtual functions as magic that simply happens.

So I started making one, and I put together a struct with a handful of function pointers, and then I realized I'm pretty much done! This was a funny realization.

Reason number two was to, kinda, take a break from object-oriented programming. Don't get me wrong, OOP is a fantastic idea where you have a limited set of simple concepts and then build the entire universe with them. Amazing.

But then, since you're using the same notions to express slightly different things, you might start to lose an overview of what exactly do you mean here. Does this method belong to the class because it's used for polymorphic dispatch? Or maybe it's attached to the class just for the sake of grouping things together, but otherwise can be a free-standing function? Or perhaps it can be a free-standing function that is made overloadable just in case?

And then you use patterns to make it all more expressive, all the usual stuff. But it's still a valuable exercise to program in an environment where these two goals are achieved by different means and therefore are genuinely explicit.

The approach that I personally would call the most elegant is how it's done in Haskell, where classes are just slightly too cumbersome to use for cases where you don't actually need polymorphism.

Anyway, now that we have a type marker let's write some functions.

const char* typename(object_t obj)
{
	return obj->type->name;
}

Okay, this one is trivial.

void dispose(object_t obj)
{
	if (obj->type->dispose)
		obj->type->dispose(obj);
	free(obj);
}

This one is also pretty self-explanatory. It also demonstrates how to mark that the function doesn't do anything special by default, which is simply by assigning the pointer to "NULL".

void set_label(object_t obj, symbol_t label)
{
	if (obj->type->label)
		obj->type->label(obj, label);
}

Labelling is also optional: knowing the function's name is helpful, but one of an integer number, not so much.

void decref_many(int argct, object_t* args)
{
	for (int i = argct - 1; i >= 0; i--)
		decref(args[i]);
}

object_t invoke(object_t func, int argct, object_t* args)
{
	if (! func->type->invoke)
		DIE("Can't invoke object of type %s", typename(func));
	object_t result = func->type->invoke(func, argct, args);
	decref_many(argct, args);
	return result;
}

Nothing special in this one except for decref()ing function arguments that we (remember?!) have to do to mark they're not on call stack anymore.

void reach(object_t obj)
{
	if (obj->gc_state == REACHED)
		return;

	obj->gc_state = REACHED;
	if (obj->type->reach)
		obj->type->reach(obj);
}

Pretty straightforward as well.

void display_object(FILE* out, object_t obj)
{
	if (obj->type->display)
		obj->type->display(out, obj);
	else
		write_object(out, obj);
}

void write_object(FILE* out, object_t obj)
{
	if (obj->type->write)
		obj->type->write(out, obj);
	else
		fprintf(out, "[%s@%p]", obj->type->name, obj);
}

(display) and (write) do almost the same thing except that latter puts quotes around strings.

While we're at it, let's bend our rules a bit and write a pair of functions that weren't previously promised but belong here anyway.

First one puts a newly initialized object into garbage collection machinery (as well as triggers the garbage collection itself); it'll be used in various wrap_*() functions.

void register_object(object_t obj)
{
	static int threshold = 100;

	if (ALL_OBJECTS.size > threshold) {
		collect_garbage();
		threshold = ALL_OBJECTS.size * 2;
	}

	push_to_array(&ALL_OBJECTS, obj);
}

And the second one marks an object as reachable; it'll be used in different reach_*() implementations.

void mark_reachable(object_t obj)
{
	if (! obj)
		return;

	if (obj->gc_state == GARBAGE) {
		obj->gc_state = REACHABLE;
		push_to_array(&REACHABLE_OBJECTS, obj);
	}
}

And with these functions written down, it's a good time to wrap up, but only to continue in

Chapter 7, where I do some typing and some pairing

For a change, no random ramblings at the beginning of this chapter. Let's go straight to coding.

In the previous chapter, I've built up a kind of framework to define the types, and now I'm going to use it to make one. And to make an informative first example, it should be something simple (so we don't get lost in type's inherent complexity), but also not trivial (so we get a good example).

So, I'm going to make a string, and I'm going to start with struct string:

struct string {
	struct object self;
	char* value;
};

typedef struct string* string_t;

This structure (as well as its' sister data structures throughout this story) contains a neat little hack with a struct object at the beginning of it. This makes every valid pointer to a struct string also a valid pointer to a struct object, so I can get from one to the other via mere type casting, which is pretty convenient.

I know some people who'll frown at this solution, saying that this is a hack that can be abused and misused by people who have no clear idea what they're doing and are in a hurry.

Which is sort of true. However. There's one thing I've never seen in my entire professional software engineering career. And that is the code that is so perfect that it can resist an indefinite amount of violence by people who have no clear idea what they're doing and are in a hurry. Everything can be broken given enough blunt force. So at the end of the day, you have to draw a proverbial "line in the sand" somewhere. And it's not an objective "right thing" to do, but rather a compromise to achieve an optimal ratio between the effort spent on making code fool-proof and the value gained... Well, let's just be blunt here, from having fools hacking your codebase.

And in the case of this story, as a hobbyist auteur without deadlines, customers, or coworkers, I'm legally allowed to skip all this mental jiu-jitsu altogether.

Let's continue implementing a string data type.

void display_string(FILE* out, object_t obj)
{
	string_t str = (string_t)obj;
	fputs(str->value, out);
}

void dispose_string(object_t obj)
{
	string_t str = (string_t)obj;
	free(str->value);
}

void write_string(FILE* out, object_t obj)
{
	string_t str = (string_t)obj;
	fprintf(out, "\"%s\"", str->value);
}

struct type TYPE_STRING = {
	.name = "string",
	.display = display_string,
	.dispose = dispose_string,
	.write = write_string,
};

What we've got here is:

• custom .display function to make (display "bla") emit bla

• custom .write function to make (write "bla") emit "bla" with quotes

• custom .dispose function to free() the pointer to .value

• and for the rest we're fine with the defaults

Absolutely straightforward, really.

The only remaining piece needed to wrap up strings is, well, wrap_string(). And here it goes.

#include <strings.h>

void* alloc_object(const type_t type, size_t size)
{
	object_t obj = malloc(size);
	obj->type = type;
	obj->stackrefs = 1;
	register_object(obj);
	return obj;
}

object_t wrap_string(const char* v)
{
	string_t str = alloc_object(&TYPE_STRING, sizeof(*str));
	str->value = strdup(v);
	return (object_t)str;
}

Yeah, it's pretty dull, just allocating a structure and populating it with exactly what you'd expect.

Okay, we're done with strings. Now lets's make what's perhaps the most iconic Lisp data type of all, the Mighty Pair.

struct pair {
	struct object self;
	object_t car;
	object_t cdr;
};

Yes, exactly how you'd expect a pair of pointers to look. Let's write car().

object_t car(pair_t pair)
{
	return pair->car;
}

object_t cdr(pair_t pair)
{
	return pair->cdr;
}

And also cdr().

void reach_pair(object_t obj)
{
	pair_t pair = (pair_t)obj;
	mark_reachable(pair->car);
	mark_reachable(pair->cdr);
}

Propagating reachability is unsophisticated as well.

void write_pair(FILE* out, object_t obj)
{
	pair_t pair = (pair_t)obj;

	fputs("(", out);

	while (pair) {
		write_object(out, car(pair));

		obj = cdr(pair);
		if ((pair = to_pair(obj)))
			fputs(" ", out);
	}

	if (! is_nil(obj)) {
		fputs(" . ", out);
		write_object(out, obj);
	}

	fputs(")", out);
}

Writing a pair is a tiny bit more involved because pairs are used to construct lists, and lists should be represented appropriately, i.e. (write (cons 'a (cons 'b ()))) should produce (a b).

struct type TYPE_PAIR = {
	.name = "pair",
	.reach = reach_pair,
	.write = write_pair,
};

Now we can assemble a type.

object_t wrap_pair(object_t head, object_t tail)
{
	pair_t pair = alloc_object(&TYPE_PAIR, sizeof(*pair));
	pair->car = head;
	pair->cdr = tail;
	return (object_t)pair;
}

pair_t to_pair(object_t obj)
{
	if (obj->type == &TYPE_PAIR)
		return (pair_t)obj;
	return NULL;
}

Then implement two previously promised pairs-related functions, and now we have pairs, lists, and all other fun things that can be made from them.

If you're bored to tears by ultra-trivial snippets of code accompanied by my remarks that "oh, that's ultra-trivial," trust me, I'm also sick and tired of writing those remarks.

This is a dark legacy of me being a paid coder for a long time. And what I learned from all that experience is that there are two techniques to do programming. One is tedious, and the other is hard.

How do I explain the difference... Well, once, many years ago, I had an interview with co-founders of a startup. They've been at a very early stage and didn't have an office yet, we met in a cafe. And during the conversation, the tech co-founder dropped a remark to the effect of "come on, writing code is easy, fixing all the bugs is the hard part." As I said, it was many years ago, back when I was young, shy, and polite. If I had such a conversation today, I'd just stand up and pull out a plausible excuse to leave immediately.

For sure, only a Sith deals in absolutes, but generally speaking, when debugging is hard, it means you're not in full control of your own software. Which is not necessarily your personal fault: maybe you've got a legacy fossilised turd to maintain, or your domain area is knotty, or whatnot. But still, having problems is one thing, but not even realising you have them is a whole different level.

So, in a nutshell, these are two fundamental options. Either you strive to stay in control, and for that, you ensure your code is easy to comprehend, and your architecture is sound and reasonable, and your system is easy to test. With that in place, you're left with a ton of "paint by numbers" kind of work to get done that is bleak and boring but not particularly hard.

Or else you can skip all that bureaucratic dreck, and then your life gets, well, significantly more adventurous.

And to illustrate this statement, I'm going to implement integer_t.

struct integer {
	struct object self;
	int value;
};

typedef struct integer* integer_t;

void write_int(FILE* out, object_t obj)
{
	integer_t num = (integer_t)obj;
	fprintf(out, "%d", num->value);
}

struct type TYPE_INT = {
	.name = "int",
	.write = write_int,
};

object_t wrap_int(int v)
{
	integer_t num = alloc_object(&TYPE_INT, sizeof(*num));
	num->value = v;
	return (object_t)num;
}

Yep, nothing to write home about. Let's do char_t.

struct character {
	struct object self;
	char value;
};

typedef struct character* char_t;

void display_char(FILE* out, object_t obj)
{
	char_t ch = (char_t)obj;
	fputc(ch->value, out);
}

void write_char(FILE* out, object_t obj)
{
	char_t ch = (char_t)obj;
	switch (ch->value) {
	case '\n':
		fputs("#\\newline", out);
		break;
	case ' ':
		fputs("#\\space", out);
		break;
	default:
		fprintf(out, "#\\%c", ch->value);
	}
}

Okay, this one at least needs some knowledge of Scheme's notation for characters; the rest is pure sleepwalking.

struct type TYPE_CHAR = {
	.name = "character",
	.display = display_char,
	.write = write_char,
};

object_t wrap_char(char v)
{
	char_t ch = alloc_object(&TYPE_CHAR, sizeof(*ch));
	ch->value = v;
	return (object_t)ch;
}

While we're at it, let's also do port_t.

struct port {
	struct object self;
	FILE* value;
};

FILE* unwrap_port(port_t port)
{
	return port->value;
}

void dispose_port(object_t obj)
{
	port_t port = (port_t)obj;
	fclose(port->value);
}

struct type TYPE_PORT = {
	.name = "port",
	.dispose = dispose_port,
};

struct object* wrap_file(FILE* v)
{
	port_t port = alloc_object(&TYPE_PORT, sizeof(*port));
	port->value = v;
	return &port->self;
}

port_t to_port(object_t obj)
{
	if (obj->type == &TYPE_PORT)
		return (port_t)obj;
	return NULL;
}

And now let's do nil.

void write_nil(FILE* out, object_t obj)
{
	fprintf(out, "()");
}

struct type TYPE_NIL = {
	.name = "nil",
	.write = write_nil,
};

struct object NIL = {
	.type = &TYPE_NIL,
};

object_t wrap_nil(void)
{
	object_t obj = &NIL;
	incref(obj);
	return obj;
}

bool is_nil(object_t obj)
{
	return obj == &NIL;
}

So, this is what happens when you strive to make your code as simple as possible: eventually, you transcend the mere triviality and reach pure Zen. An empty list is just a special object with no internal structure, so it's natural to implement it as a constant without a data structure to accompany it.

Now let's do the same for booleans.

void write_bool(FILE* out, object_t obj);

struct type TYPE_BOOL = {
	.name = "bool",
	.write = write_bool,
};

struct object TRUE = {
	.type = &TYPE_BOOL,
};

struct object FALSE = {
	.type = &TYPE_BOOL,
};

bool is_false(object_t obj)
{
	return obj == &FALSE;
}

bool is_true(object_t obj)
{
	return ! is_false(obj);
}

A minor gotcha here is that in Scheme, the only "false-ish" value is boolean false, and everything else is "true-ish."

void write_bool(FILE* out, object_t obj)
{
	fputs(obj == &TRUE ? "#t" : "#f", out);
}

object_t wrap_bool(bool v)
{
	object_t obj = v ? &TRUE : &FALSE;
	incref(obj);
	return obj;
}

And now it's time to end this chapter and begin

Chapter 8, where I reinvent one more wheel

This chapter is a work in progress for now and will be published once it'll be ready.

To make it happen a bit sooner, you can send some encouraging words to [email protected], or you can also send some encouraging money using the "Donate" button below, or both.