Readability at Google

Over the years I was a developer at Google I never once tried to pass “readability” for any language. If you didn’t have “readability”, then any code you checked in would need an additionally review by someone who did have “readability”. The theory was that the code base would turn into an unreadable patchwork of different styles if everyone didn't adhere to the same set of rules. By having a “readability” requirement, the code base would be uniform and understandable. In practice, however, it was a social signal that indicated whether you were a card carrying member of the “in” group or not. Having “readability” meant you were a nobleman. Not having it meant you were a commoner.

To get “readability” you had to endure a struggle session with a current holder of “readability”. You would submit a not insubstantial amount of code for review and the reviewer would go over it with a fine-tooth comb pointing out every little syntactic rule you broke. It was a game of gotcha designed to make the reviewer feel smarter than you. You’d then return to your office or cubicle, make changes and iterate. If you were lucky, you would only need two or three iterations before you were bestowed with “readability”. The point was not to demonstrate that you knew how to write readable code, but to demonstrate that you were willing to submit to the authority of the reviewer and follow a set of arbitrary rules, no matter how absurd. It was a hazing ritual, a way to show that you were willing to be a team player.

A problem with having “readability” was that you were expected to uphold the “readability” guidelines. Not only did you have to play the game, you had to perpetuate it. I disagreed with a lot of the guidelines because they were poorly thought out rules for the sake of having rules. There were many situations in which they would reduce the comprehensibility of the code. By not having “readability”, I was free to write code that was easier to understand and maintain, even if bent or broke the codified rules.

This isn’t to say that I ignored Google’s style. It is hard to understand code that switches styles every few lines. I tried to make my code fit in to the surrounding code and look like it was part of it. I wrote new files with same general layout, curly brace conventions, and indentation that a typical Google file has. I didn’t worry about following “readability” guidelines at all, but I didn’t flout the guidelines either. I more concerned about my code being comprehended by the next developer than following a set of ad hoc rules to the letter.

So I got used to submitting my code for “readability” review, in addition to the normal code review. I off-loaded the entire responsibility of “readability” to the reviewer and let them tell me what to do. I didn’t argue with them. I simply followed the directions of the reviewer and made whatever changes were suggested. Often, though, changes to the code to more strictly follow the guidelines would result in noticeably worse code and the reviewers would soon withdraw their suggestions.

Another problem of being a nobleman with “readability” is that you had the obligation to review the code written by the commoners. The people with “readability” was a small enough group that they soon became the bottleneck in the review process. They were constantly overworked with code reviews. We commoners, on the other hand, weren’t expected to review code. Nor were we to blame if someone else is holding up the code review.

Frankly, I didn’t see any upside of having “readability” and many downsides. I was able to get my code checked in without too much trouble and I just didn’t have the time or inclination to get involved in the high-school politics of “readability”. Plenty of other companies do not have a “readability” ritual. They seem to get along just fine by hiring people who can write code that is easy to understand and maintain.