Why I Love Kafka's Design
We are taught to revere the interface. As long as you build the right abstractions, we're told, how you actually store the data is an implementation detail that can be fixed up later. Just make a clean API that has a clear division of responsibilities, and you will be fine. I've heard this time and time again, particularly in reference to initial implementations of APIs that worked fine for N=100, but that we intended to "scale up later" to handle a thousand times that (it wasn't wishful startup thinking — we already had those use cases).
The problem is that for non-trivial applications, we often can't know what the "right abstractions" are until we understand our data at the desired scale. One of my favorite examples of this is Kafka, an open source messaging system originally developed at LinkedIn.
Poor First Impressions
When I first encountered Kafka four years ago, the server protocol made no sense to me. Things were poorly documented back then (those were early days), and I was trying to fix a bug in a Python client that was written in a hurry by someone that didn't fully grok it either.
The interface was odd, you see. For instance, when you queried for messages, it was something like this: "Give me 500K of messages from topic 'events', partition #4, starting at offset 49,031,920,381." The server would then give you back exactly 500K worth of message data. If 500K cuts off halfway through a message or header, that was the client's problem.
This immediately offended my design sensibilities. As developers, we get abstraction and separation of concerns drilled into us all the time. Why was it forcing me to know all this? As a client, I shouldn't care about low level details like the partition, and certainly not byte offsets. I should never have to worry about partial messages. I expected to be able to say, "Give me the next 500 messages from topic 'events'." This interface was clearly wrong.
Except that it wasn't. Kafka is actually a brilliant example of what can be done when you look at the requirements and think hard about your data before rushing off to build a pretty abstraction.
Understanding the Data
Kafka's design goals included durability and massive throughput. Durability meant that data had to be written to disk. Disk I/O is often seen as a performance killer, but the folks that designed Kafka recognized that it's really the random seeks that hurt you. Sequential reads and writes are actually pretty fast, and operating systems will use gobs of RAM to cache that data for you.
So they basically opted for writing out messages as big log files. When a
consumer makes a request for a topic and partition, that maps to a directory on
the filesystem. The requested offset will let Kafka know what file to read, and
what byte offset within that file to start from. You can get partial messages
back because (and this is the awesome part), Kafka doesn't ever need to actually
read the content of the data it sends you. It uses the
sendfile system call
to send that data directly from the page cache
to the network buffer without ever copying anything to user space.
This clever design allows them to scale up to millions of messages per second across a few cheap machines. It lets clients replay events, and it removes a lot of complexity from the core server code.
There are tradeoffs of course. The simple logfile mechanism means that there is no advanced message routing functionality as found in other messaging systems. Consumers have to do a lot more bookkeeping, and there is a Zookeeper orchestration layer that advanced clients have to know to coordinate with each other. It's also just not very pretty. But it scales insanely well, and that's a perfectly valid tradeoff to make.
The Lesson I Took Away
Reality is not a hack you're forced to deal with to solve your abstract, theoretical problem.
Reality is the actual problem.
— Mike Acton, Data-Oriented Design and C++
Kafka's interface is what it is because that's the way disks and operating systems work in the real world. It's not the most elegant or featureful of APIs, but they could not have arrived at a solution that met their goals nearly so well if they had started with an ideal interface and figured out the data store later.
Our job as software developers is to design and implement systems that meet various business requirements while being reliable, maintainable, secure, and performant. Abstraction and elegance are highly desirable things that often further those goals, but they can be traded off against, just like anything else.
Web developers may not be working as close to the metal as Kafka, but we still have to deal with real data models in actual databases. Yet a lot of API design discussions just ignore this part as a low level concern and focus on abstract notions of elegance, or whatever API conventions are in vogue that year. It's like we're buying a house, all our debates focus on the paint and the lawn, and the question of whether we can make the mortgage payments is a detail that we can worry about later because it takes too much effort to think about.
Usually, the rationale for this is that if you get the interface "right", you can change the data model under it without disrupting everyone. So the API is the thing you have to commit to. But again, that ignores the fact that we won't know if the API we've dreamed up is actually workable at larger scale. It also ignores one other inconvenient detail about data.
"We managed to migrate over our data earlier than we thought we would."
— No one, ever, in the history of software development.
If your system has any success at all, you will be stuck with your basic data model for far longer than anyone wants to admit to themselves. Data migration is a pain, and there's always Something More Important to work on.
The real takeaway for me was that the data model is not a second-class citizen. Data gets to push back on API design. The more scale matters, the bigger say it has.