Introduction

Credit: David Ascher, ActiveState, co-author of Learning Python

Programming languages are like natural languages. Each has a set of qualities that polyglots generally agree on as characteristics of the language. Russian and French are often admired for their lyricism, while English is more often cited for its precision and dynamism: unlike the Académie-defined French language, the English language routinely grows words to suit its speakers' needs, such as "carjacking," "earwitness," "snailmail," "email," "googlewhacking," and "blogging." In the world of computer languages, Perl is well known for its many degrees of freedom: TMTOWTDI (There's More Than One Way To Do It) is one of the mantras of the Perl programmer. Conciseness is also seen as a strong virtue in the Perl and APL communities. As you'll see in many of the discussions of recipes throughout this volume, in contrast, Python programmers often express their belief in the value of clarity and elegance. As a well-known Perl hacker once told me, Python's prettier, but Perl is more fun. I agree with him that Python does have a strong (as in well-defined) aesthetic, while Perl has more of a sense of humor.

The reason I mention these seemingly irrelevant characteristics at the beginning of this chapter is that the recipes you see in this chapter are directly related to Python's aesthetic and social dynamics. If this book had been about Perl, the recipes in a shortcuts chapter would probably elicit head scratching, contemplation, an "a-ha"! moment, and then a burst of laughter, as the reader grokked the genius behind a particular trick. In contrast, in most of the recipes in this chapter, the author presents a single elegant language feature, but one that he feels is underappreciated. Much like I, a proud resident of Vancouver, will go out of my way to show tourists the really neat things about the city, from the parks to the beaches to the mountains, a Python user will seek out friends and colleagues and say, "You gotta see this!" For me and most of the programmers I know, programming in Python is a shared social pleasure, not a competitive pursuit. There is great pleasure in learning a new feature and appreciating its design, elegance, and judicious use, and there's a twin pleasure in teaching another or another thousand about that feature.

A word about the history of the chapter: back when we identified the recipe categories for the first edition of this collection, our driving notion was that there would be recipes of various kinds, each with a specific goala soufflé, a tart, an osso buco. Those recipes would naturally fall into fairly typical categories, such as desserts, appetizers, and meat dishes, or their perhaps less appetizing, nonmetaphorical equivalents, such as files, algorithms, and so on. So we picked a list of categories, added the categories to the Zope site used to collect recipes, and opened the floodgates.

Soon, it became clear that some submissions were hard to fit into the predetermined categories. There's a reason for that, and cooking helps explain why. The recipes in this chapter are the Pythonic equivalent of making a roux (a cooked mixture of fat and flour, used in making sauces, for those of you without a classic French cooking background), kneading dough, flouring, separating eggs, flipping a pan's contents, blanching, and the myriad other tricks that any accomplished cook knows, but that you won't find in a typical cookbook. Many of these tricks and techniques are used in preparing meals, but it's hard to pigeonhole them as relevant for a given type of dish. And if you're a novice cook looking up a fancy recipe, you're likely to get frustrated quickly because serious cookbook authors assume you know these techniques, and they explain them (with illustrations!) only in books with titles such as Cooking for Divorced Middle-Aged Men. We didn't want to exclude this precious category of tricks from this book, so a new category was born (sorry, no illustrations).

In the introduction to this chapter in the first edition, I presciently said:

I believe that the recipes in this chapter are among the most time-sensitive of the recipes in this volume. That's because the aspects of the language that people consider shortcuts or noteworthy techniques seem to be relatively straightforward, idiomatic applications of recent language features.

I can proudly say that I was right. This new edition, significantly focused on the present definition of the language, makes many of the original recipes irrelevant. In the two Python releases since the book's first edition, Python 2.3 and 2.4, the language has evolved to incorporate the ideas of those recipes into new syntactic features or library functions, just as it had done with every previous major release, making a cleaner, more compact, and yet more powerful language that's as much fun to use today as it was over ten years ago.

All in all, about half the recipes in this chapter (roughly the same proportion as in the rest of the book) are entirely new ones, while the other half are vastly revised (mostly simplified) versions of recipes that were in the first edition. Thanks to the simplifications, and to the focus on just two language versions (2.3 and 2.4) rather than the whole panoply of older versions that was covered by the first edition, this chapter, as well as the book as a whole, has over one-third more recipes than the first edition did.

It's worth noting in closing that many of the recipes that are in this newly revised chapter touch on some of the most fundamental, unchanging aspects of the language: the semantics of assignment, binding, copy, and references; sequences; dictionaries. These ideas are all keys to the Pythonic approach to programming, and seeing these recipes live for several years makes me wonder whether Python will evolve in the next few years in related directions.