Writing software can be an exercise in frustration. Useless error messages, difficult-to-reproduce bugs, missing stacktrace information, obscure functions without documentation, and unmaintained libraries all stand in our way. As software engineers, our most useful skill isn’t so much knowing how to solve a problem as knowing how to explore a problem that we haven’t seen before. Experience is important, but even experienced engineers face unfamiliar bugs every day. When a problem doesn’t bear a resemblance to anything we’ve seen before, we fall back on general cognitive strategies to explore–and ultimately solve–the problem.

There’s an excellent book by the mathematician George Polya: How to Solve It, which tries to catalogue how successful mathematicians approach unfamiliar problems. When I catch myself banging my head against a problem for more than a few minutes, I try to back up and consider his principles. Sometimes, just taking the time to slow down and reflect can get me out of a rut.

1. Understand the problem.
2. Devise a plan.
3. Carry out the plan
4. Look back

With the language fundamentals in hand, here’s my thinking for the remainder of the Clojure from the ground up book chapters. I’m putting Jepsen on hold to work on this project for the rest of the year; hoping to get the source material complete by… January?

• Debugging and getting help
• Polymorphism
• Modularization and refactoring
• It’s not at all obvious what an object is
• JVM interop
• The Clojure type system
• Compiler at runtime
• Build your own language
• Performance analysis
• Parsers and protocols
• Storage and persistence
• Networks and messaging
• Concurrency and queues

Previously: Logistics

Until this point in the book, we’ve dealt primarily in specific details: what an expression is, how math works, which functions apply to different data structures, and where code lives. But programming, like speaking a language, painting landscapes, or designing turbines, is about more than the nuts and bolts of the trade. It’s knowing how to combine those parts into a cohesive whole–and this is a skill which is difficult to describe formally. In this part of the book, I’d like to work with you on an integrative tour of one particular problem: modeling a rocket in flight.

We’re going to reinforce our concrete knowledge of the standard library by using maps, sequences, and math functions together. At the same time, we’re going to practice how to represent a complex system; decomposing a problem into smaller parts, naming functions and variables, and writing tests.

Previously, we covered state and mutability.

Up until now, we’ve been programming primarily at the REPL. However, the REPL is a limited tool. While it lets us explore a problem interactively, that interactivity comes at a cost: changing an expression requires retyping the entire thing, editing multi-line expressions is awkward, and our work vanishes when we restart the REPL–so we can’t share our programs with others, or run them again later. Moreover, programs in the REPL are hard to organize. To solve large problems, we need a way of writing programs durably–so they can be read and evaluated later.

In addition to the code itself, we often want to store ancillary information. Tests verify the correctness of the program. Resources like precomputed databases, lookup tables, images, and text files provide other data the program needs to run. There may be documentation: instructions for how to use and understand the software. A program may also depend on code from other programs, which we call libraries, packages, or dependencies. In Clojure, we have a standardized way to bind together all these parts into a single directory, called a project.

Previously: Macros.

Most programs encompass change. People grow up, leave town, fall in love, and take new names. Engines burn through fuel while their parts wear out, and new ones are swapped in. Forests burn down and their logs become nurseries for new trees. Despite these changes, we say “She’s still Nguyen”, “That’s my motorcycle”, “The same woods I hiked through as a child.”

Identity is a skein we lay across the world of immutable facts; a single entity which encompasses change. In programming, identities unify different values over time. Identity types are mutable references to immutable values.

In Chapter 1, I asserted that the grammar of Lisp is uniform: every expression is a list, beginning with a verb, and followed by some arguments. Evaluation proceeds from left to right, and every element of the list must be evaluated before evaluating the list itself. Yet we just saw, at the end of Sequences, an expression which seemed to violate these rules.

Clearly, this is not the whole story.

There is another phase to evaluating an expression; one which takes place before the rules we’ve followed so far. That process is called macro-expansion. During macro-expansion, the code itself is restructured according to some set of rules–rules which you, the programmer, can define.

In Chapter 3, we discovered functions as a way to abstract expressions; to rephrase a particular computation with some parts missing. We used functions to transform a single value. But what if we want to apply a function to more than one value at once? What about sequences?

For example, we know that (inc 2) increments the number 2. What if we wanted to increment every number in the vector [1 2 3], producing [2 3 4]?

We left off last chapter with a question: what are verbs, anyway? When you evaluate (type :mary-poppins), what really happens?

To understand how type works, we’ll need several new ideas. First, we’ll expand on the notion of symbols as references to other values. Then we’ll learn about functions: Clojure’s verbs. Finally, we’ll use the Var system to explore and change the definitions of those functions.

We’ve learned the basics of Clojure’s syntax and evaluation model. Now we’ll take a tour of the basic nouns in the language.

We’ve seen a few different values already–for instance, nil, true, false, 1, 2.34, and "meow". Clearly all these things are different values, but some of them seem more alike than others.

For instance, 1 and 2 are very similar numbers; both can be added, divided, multiplied, and subtracted. 2.34 is also a number, and acts very much like 1 and 2, but it’s not quite the same. It’s got decimal points. It’s not an integer. And clearly true is not very much like a number. What is true plus one? Or false divided by 5.3? These questions are poorly defined.

This guide aims to introduce newcomers and experienced programmers alike to the beauty of functional programming, starting with the simplest building blocks of software. You’ll need a computer, basic proficiency in the command line, a text editor, and an internet connection. By the end of this series, you’ll have a thorough command of the Clojure programming language.

Science, technology, engineering, and mathematics are deeply rewarding fields, yet few women enter STEM as a career path. Still more are discouraged by a culture which repeatedly asserts that women lack the analytic aptitude for writing software, that they are not driven enough to be successful scientists, that it’s not cool to pursue a passion for structural engineering. Those few with the talent, encouragement, and persistence to break in to science and tech are discouraged by persistent sexism in practice: the old boy’s club of tenure, being passed over for promotions, isolation from peers, and flat-out assault. This landscape sucks. I want to help change it.

Women Who Code, PyLadies, Black Girls Code, RailsBridge, Girls Who Code, Girl Develop It, and Lambda Ladies are just a few of the fantastic groups helping women enter and thrive in software. I wholeheartedly support these efforts.