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In the first two parts of this series I’ve introduced state engines and taken apart a specific instance of an engine. Now it’s time to tie together the design idea with approaches to building a variety of such engines.
Because the programming logic is in the state table, the engine can be fairly generic. That means it’s possible to create a state engine framework you can reuse for a variety of applications.
Last time I introduced state engines and state tables. I showed parts of a simple implementation of one in Python. It parsed the language introduced in Little Programming Languages. This post continues that, so be sure you’ve read that first article.
I got as far as the state table implementing the process, and that’s where this post picks up. I’ll also get into the
SourceReader class that does the heavy lifting.
At one point in my career, the state engine (SE) was one of my favorite AWK hammers. At the time much of the work involved text processing or, in some cases, serial byte processing (which is not quite the same thing). That sort of thing is right in the wheelhouse for a state engine.
They are a very useful tool and an important part of any programmer’s toolkit.
In the Unix world you sometimes hear someone mention an “AWK hammer” or an “AWK nail” — usually in reference to an unexpected, possibly suspect, way of using some tool. In that history repeats itself, in the corporate world, one might have (but never did) hear reference to a “Lotus 1-2-3 hammer.”
The implication is that someone has fallen in love with a particular tool and is using it everywhere. In particular it applies to a situation where using that beloved tool may not have been the ideal choice.
Here’s the last of the oddball Little Programming Languages (for now). This one is a little like LPL-2 in using a three-part syntax (which turns out to be non-ideal). Unlike LPL-3, neither of these are particularly usable languages — more along the lines of being something a language designer amused himself with on a rainy afternoon.
A key goal in LPL-1 was to minimize the use of punctuation characters. No brackets or parenthesis to create syntax blocks. (Square brackets for array indexing and parentheses for expressions, but that’s it.)
The language I showed you last time, in LPL-3, was a fairly reasonable one. This time I’m showing you a preposterous one no one would actually use. Worse, it turns out to be something of a failure due to weird holes left by the design goal of orthogonal single-syntax construction.
But that oddness helps us focus on what a programming language actually is, so it’s worth a peek. And maybe it’ll give you a laugh.
I’ll pick up with the language I began describing last time in a future post. Right now I want to pick up the thread of Little Programming Languages (LPLs) and use several examples to illustrate what underlies a programming language. (And as it turns out, these are “little” only in a certain sense.)
This first example, LPL-3, is Lisp-like and, because of that, is fairly orthogonal. Even better, it’s probably actually usable, although — like Lisp — it doesn’t have the cleanest syntax (languages like Python have really spoiled me).
One characteristic of the hard-core coder is a love of computer languages, programming languages in particular. Programmers of that ilk — of my ilk — collect new languages like merit badges. (I get a kick out of saying that I’ve programmed “from Ada to the Z-80!”)
The especially far gone of us also enjoy creating new languages (or in some cases, new dialects of XML). Lately I’ve been playing with a language design that follows a favorite theme: the single-syntax construction language.