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Archive: 'Browsers' Category

Inconsistent Transitions

Here’s an interesting little test case for transitions.  Obviously you’ll need to visit it in a browser that supports CSS transitions, and additionally also CSS 2D transforms.  (I’m not aware of a browser that supports the latter without supporting the former, but your rendering may vary.)

In Webkit and Gecko, hovering the first div causes the span to animate a 270 degree rotation over one second, but when you unhover the div the span immediately snaps back to its starting position.  In Opera 11, the span is instantly transformed when you hover and instantly restored to its starting position when you unhover.

In all three (Webkit, Gecko, and Opera), hovering the second div triggers a one-second 270-degree rotation of the span.  Unhovering causes the rotation animation to be reversed; that is, a one-second minus-270-degree rotation—or, if you mouseout from the div before the animation finishes, an rotation from that angle back to the starting position.  Either way, it’s completely consistent across browsers.

The difference is that in the first test case, both the transform and the transition are declared on hover.  Like this (edited for clarity):

div:hover span {
	transition: 1s transform;
	transform: rotate(270deg);

In the second test case, the transform and the transition are split up like so:

div span {
	transition: 1s transform;
div:hover span {
	transform: rotate(270deg);

It’s an interesting set of results.  Only the second case is consistently animated across the tested browsers, but the first case only animates one direction in Webkit and Gecko.  I’m not sure which, if any, of these results is more correct than the other.  It could well be that they’re all correct, even if not consistent; or that they’re all wrong, just in different ways.

At any rate, the takeaway here is that you probably don’t want to apply your transition properties to the hover state of the thing you’re transitioning, but to the unhovered state instead.  I say “probably” because maybe you like that it transitions on mouseover and instantly resets on mouseout.  I don’t know that I’d rely on that behavior, though.  It feels like the kind of thing that programmer action, or even spec changes, will take away.

Same As It Ever Was

I recently became re-acquainted with a ghost, and it looked very, very familiar.  In the spring of 1995, just over a year into my first Web gig and still just over a year away from first encountering CSS, I wrote the following:

Writing to the Norm

No, not the fat guy on “Cheers.”  Actually, it’s a fundamental issue every Web author needs to know about and appreciate.

Web browsers are written by different people.  Each person has their own idea about how Web documents should look.  Therefore, any given Web document will be displayed differently by different browsers.  In fact, it will be displayed differently by different copies of the same browser, if the two copies have different preferences set.

Therefore, you need to keep this principle foremost in your mind at all times: you cannot guarantee that your document will appear to other people exactly as it does to you.  In other words, don’t fall into the trap of obsessively re-writing a document just to get it to “fit on one screen,” or so a line of text is exactly “one screen wide.”  This is as pointless as trying to take a picture that will always be one foot wide, no matter how big the projection screen. Changes in font, font size, window size, and so on will all invalidate your attempts.

On the other hand, you want to write documents which look acceptable to most people.  How?  Well, it’s almost an art form in itself, but my recommendation is that you assume that most people will set their browser to display text in a common font such as Times at a point size of somewhere between 10 and 15 points.  While you shouldn’t spend your time trying to precisely engineer page arrangement, you also shouldn’t waste time worrying about how pages will look for someone whose display is set to 27-point Garamond.

That’s from “Chapter 1: Terms and Concepts” of Introduction to HTML, my first publication of note and the first of three tutorials dedicated to teaching HTML in a friendly, interactive manner.  The tutorials were taken down a couple of years ago by their host organization, which made me a bit sad even though I understood why they didn’t want to maintain the pages (and deal with the support e-mail) any longer.

However, thanks to a colleague’s help and generosity I recently came into possession of copies of all three.  I’m still pondering what to do about it.  To put them back on the web would require a bit more work than just tossing them onto a server, and to make the quizzes fully functional would take yet more work, and after all this time some of the material is obsolete or even potentially misleading.  Not to mention the page is laid out using a table (woo 1995!).  On the other hand, they’d make an interesting historical document of sorts, a way to let you young whippersnappers know what it was like in the old days.

Reading through them, now sixteen years later, has been an interesting little trip down memory lane.  What strikes me most, besides the fact that my younger self was a better writer than my current self, is how remarkably stable the Web’s fluidity has been over its lifetime.  Yes, the absence of assuredly-repeatable layout is a core design principle, but it’s also the kind of thing that tends to get engineered away, particularly when designers and the public both get involved.  Its persistence hints that it’s something valuable and even necessary.  If I had to nominate one thing about the Web for the title of “Most Under-appreciated”, I think this would be it.

Vendor Prefix Lists

At the prompting of an inquiry from a respected software vendor, I asked The Twitters for pointers to “canonical” lists of vendor-prefixed properties, values, and selectors.  Here’s what the crowd sourced at me:

Lists more than just prefixed properties, values, and so on.

While there’s no guarantee of completeness or accuracy, these are at least what the vendors themselves provide and so we can cling to some hope of both.  I was also pointed to the following third-party lists:

If you know of great vendor-prefix lists that aren’t listed here, particularly anything from the vendors themselves, please let us know in the comments!

Somewhat if not obviously related: does anyone know of a way to add full Textile support to BBEdit 9.x?  Having it be a Unix filter is fine.  I know BBEdit already supports Markdown, but since Basecamp uses Textile and lots of people I work with use Basecamp, I’d like stick to one syntax rather than confuse myself trying to switch between two similar syntaxes.

The Web Stack

Following on my “HTML5 vs. Flash” talk of a couple of weeks ago, I’m hoping to do a bit of blogging about HTML5, Flash, mobile apps, and more.  But first I need to get some terminology straight.

As I did in my talk, I’m going to refer to the collection of front-end web-standards technologies—(X)HTML (of any flavor), CSS, and JavaScript—as “the web stack”.  I’ve seen the term used here and there and it makes the most sense to me as a condensed verbal shorthand.  It beats writing out the specific technologies every time or trying to use similarly clumsy constructions like “front-end tech”.  If you like, think of “web stack” as a rough equivalent to “Ajax”—a term that was invented because continually saying “asynchronous JavaScript + CSS + DOM + XMLHttpRequest” was unworkable.

The web stack sort of includes downloadable fonts, but only in the same sense that images or any other external resource is part of the stack.  SImilarly, it encompasses frameworks like jQuery in the sense that they’re built out of the components of the web stack.

When I use the term “web stack”, though, I’m not referring to back-end technologies.  Those things are important, certainly, but not from the front-end point of view.  A browser doesn’t care if your page was generated by PHP, Django, Rails, Perl, or what have you.  It doesn’t even care if the server runs on Apache or something else.

Furthermore, it doesn’t refer to plugins.  Yes, that means Flash, but it also means QuickTime, Real, ActiveX, and so forth.  What I need to make clear is that I’m not doing this in an attempt to imply that plugins don’t belong on the web at all.  They’re just not part of that core web stack any more than the web stack is part of them.  That doesn’t stop them working together, obviously.

Okay, so that’s out of the way, and I hope my meaning is sufficiently clear to everyone.  Please do leave a comment if it isn’t.  Onward!

Turning Web Video On Its Head

Here’s some fun.  (For a sufficiently nerdy definition of “fun”.)

  1. Launch Safari 4 or Chrome 4.

  2. Drag Videotate to the bookmarks bar.

  3. Go opt into the YouTube HTML5 beta.

  4. Find your favorite YouTube video.  Or maybe your least favorite.  Here’s one of my favorites: Walk Don’t Run.  Here’s another that’s not necessarily a favorite, but it seems like a fairly appropriate choice.

    Note: not all videos are available via HTML5, even when you’re opted in.  If you get a Flash video, the bookmarklet won’t work.

  5. Once the video has started playing, activate the “Videotate” bookmarklet.

  6. Enjoy.

Thanks to Simon WIllison for tweeting the JS I modified, and Jeremy Keith for helping me realize it would be easy to do during the HTML5 portion of A Day Apart.

Inspector Scrutiny

It’s been said before that web inspectors—Firebug, Dragonfly, the inspectors in Safari and Chrome, and so forth—are not always entirely accurate.  A less charitable characterization is that they lie to us, but that’s not exactly right.  The real truth is that web inspectors repeat to us the lies they are told, which are the same lies we can be told to our faces if we ask directly.

Here’s how I know this to be so:

body {font-size: medium;}

Just that.  Apply it to a test page.  Inspect the body element in any web inspector you care to fire up.  Have it tell you the computed styles for the body element.  Assuming you haven’t changed your browser’s font sizing preferences, the reported value will be 16px.

You might say that that makes sense, since an unaltered browser equates medium with “16”.  But as we saw in “Fixed Monospace Sizing“, the 16px value is not what is inherited by child elements.  What is inherited is medium, but web inspectors will never show you that as a computed style.  You can see it in the list of declared styles, which so far as I can tell lists “specific values” (as per section 6.1 of CSS2.1).  When you look to see what’s actually applied to the element in the “Computed Styles” view, you are being misled.

We can’t totally blame the inspectors, because what they list as computed styles is what they are given by the browser.  The inspectors take what the browser returns and prettify it for us, and give us ways to easily alter those values on the fly, but in the end they’re just DOM inspectors.  They don’t have a special line into the browser’s internal data.  Everything they report comes straight from the same DOM that any of us can query.  If you invoke:

var obj = document.getElementsByTagName('body')[0];

…on a document being given the rule I mentioned above, you will get back 16px, not medium.

This fact of inspector life was also demonstrated in “Rounding Off“.  As we saw there, browsers whose inspectors report integer pixel values also return them when queried directly from the DOM.  This despite the fact that it can be conclusively shown that those same browsers are internally storing non-integer values.

Yes, it might be possible for an inspector to do its own analysis of properties like font-size by checking the element’s specified values (which it knows) and then crawling up the document tree to do the same to all of the element’s ancestors to try to figure out a more accurate computed style.  But what bothers me is that the browser reported computed values that simply aren’t accurate in the first place.  it seems to me that they’re really “actual values”, not “computed values”, again in the sense of CSS2.1:6.1.  This makes getComputedStyle() fairly misleading as a method name; it should really be getActualStyle().

No, I don’t expect the DOM or browsers to change this, which is why it’s all the more important for us to keep these facts in mind.  Web inspectors are very powerful, useful, and convenient DOM viewers and editors, essentially souped-up interfaces to what we could collect ourselves with JavaScript.  They are thus limited by what they can get the browser to report to them.  There are steps they might take to compensate for known limitations, but that requires them to second-guess both what the browser does now and what it might do in the future.

The point, if I may be so bold, is this:  never place all your trust in what a web inspector tells you.  There may be things it cannot tell you because it does not know them, and thus what it does tell you may on occasion mislead or confuse you.  Be wary of what you are told—because even though all of it is correct, not quite all of it is true, and those are always the lies that are easiest to believe.

Fixed Monospace Sizing

Monospace text sizing is, from time to time, completely unintuitive and can be quite maddening if you don’t look at it in exactly the right way.  Fortunately, there is a pretty simple workaround, and it’s one you might want to consider using even if you weren’t aware that a problem existed.

But first, allow me to lay some foundations.  Assuming no other author styles beyond the ones shown, consider the following:

span {font-family: monospace;}

<p>This is a 'p' with a <span>'span'</span> inside.</p>
All right, what should be the computed font-size of the span element?  Remember, there are no other author styles being applied.

The savvier among you will have said: “It depends, but most likely 13px.”  That’s because here, the size of the monospace text is controlled by the browser’s preferences.  The vast majority of users, of course, have never touched their default settings of “16” for proportional fonts and “13” for monospace/fixed fonts.  For them, then, the answer is 13px.  Similarly, if I’d asked about the p element’s computed font-size, the answer would be: “It depends, but most likely 16px.”

So let’s add a bit more and see where we land.

span {font-family: monospace; font-size: 1em;}

<p>This is a 'p' with a <span>'span'</span> inside.</p>

As before: bearing in mind that there are no other author styles, what should be the computed font-size of the span element?

In this case, building on the previous question and answer, you might say, “It depends, but most likely 16px.”  The reasoning here is pretty straightforward:  since the computed font-size of the p element is 16px, the font-size: 1em; assigned to the span will result in it having the same size.

And that’s true… in two of five browsers I tested: Opera 10 and Internet Explorer 8.  In the other three I tested—Firefox 3.6, Safari 4, and Chrome 4—the computed (and rendered) font-size of the span is 13px, the same as in our first example.  This result holds true if the rule is changed to use font: 1em monospace; instead of the two separate properties.  The behavior continues to persist even when adding specific font families, like Courier New, Courier, Andale Mono, and so on to the rule.  It also persists if 1em is converted to 100%.

So in other words, even though I have written CSS that explicitly says “Make the font-size of this element the same as its parent”, three of five browsers apparently ignore me.

I say “apparently” because what’s happening is that those browsers are allowing the span to inherit the default font-size from its parent (and thus, indirectly, all its ancestors), but the default font-size is medium.  If you go look up medium, you find out that it doesn’t have a defined numeric size. So what those browsers do is equate medium with the preference settings, which means it’s different for monospace fonts than for everything else.

In other words, those three browsers are doing something like this:

  1. This span needs to have the same font-size as its parent element.
  2. The parent’s font-size is medium, even though when my web inspector (or an author’s DOM script) asks, I report the 16px I used to output the text.  So the span‘s font-size is actually medium.
  3. This medium-sized span is using a monospace font.  The preference setting for monospace is “13”, and I equate medium with the preference setting, so I’ll output the span using 13-pixel text.

Opera 10, as I said, doesn’t do this, even if your monospace font preference setting is the default value of “13” or indeed different from the preference for non-monospace fonts.  And IE8 doesn’t appear to do it either, although you can’t set numeric font size preferences in IE8 so what it’s actually doing is open to interpretation.  Oh, IE8, you inscrutable little scamp, you.

All that might seem reasonable enough, but it turns out that’s not the whole story.  No, the three resizing browsers are being a good deal more “clever”, if that’s actually the word I want, than that.  In fact, what those browsers do makes it seem like they use the two preference settings to create a ratio, and that ratio is used to scale monospace text.  That’s not actually what’s happening, but it looks that way at first.  To see what I mean, let’s consider:

span {font-family: monospace; font-size: 2em;}

<p>This is a 'p' with a <span>'span'</span> inside.</p>

Again: in the absence of other author styles, what should be the computed font-size of the span element?

The answer: “It depends, but most likely 26px as long as we aren’t talking about Opera 10 or IE8.  If it is one of those two, then most likely 32px.”  Why?  Because the resizing browsers see the font-size: 2em; declaration as “twice medium” and twice 13 is 26.  Opera 10 and IE8, as previously established, don’t do the resizing.  Or else they simply interpret medium as being equal to the proportional font size preference setting.  Whatever.

Okay.  So what all this means is that in many browsers, you can declare that an element’s font size should be twice the size of its parent’s and have it actually be 1.625 times the size—or, if you want to look at it another way, 0.8125 times the size you expected it to be.  The 0.8125 comes from 26/32, which of course reduces to 13/16.  If you were to adjust your browser’s preferences so the monospace setting is “15”, then monospace fonts would be 0.9375 (15/16) times the expected size.

But—and here’s where things get really fun—this is not always so.  See, you may not have run into this problem if you’ve been declaring specific font families with no generic fallback.  Consider this variation (note that I dropped back to 1em for the font-size):

span {font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 1em;}

<p>This is a 'p' with a <span>'span'</span> inside.</p>

This time, in every one of the five browsers I mentioned before, assuming the browser defaults, the computed (and rendered) font-size of the span will be 16px.  Not 13px.  And the only difference is that we switched from a generic font family to a specific one.

“Hey presto!” you shout.  “We’ll just tack the generic family on the end there and be right as rain!”  Sadly, no.  For if you do this:

span {font-family: "Courier New", monospace; font-size: 1em;}

<p>This is a 'p' with a <span>'span'</span> inside.</p>

…then the answer to the question I keep asking will be:  “It depends, but given browser defaults it will be 16px, unless we’re talking about Safari.  In that case, it’s 13px.”

Really.  Alone among the browsers I tested, Safari goes back to doing the resizing when you provide a generic fallback to your specific family.  Or even multiple families.  Do your best to make sure the user at least gets a fixed-width font, and you get a size smaller than you’d intended.  (You can get the back story on this in a late-2006 post on the Surfin’ Safari blog.)

So what do we do?  Get creative.  That’s what the ARIA folks did in their specification’s style sheet, where they declare two font stacks: the first with a generic fallback, and the second without it.  That works, but it’s ugly.  I didn’t like that at all.  And then, halfway through writing up this post, a fix came to me like a shot in the dark.  Check this out:

span {font-family: "Courier New", monospace, serif; font-size: 1em;}

<p>This is a 'p' with a <span>'span'</span> inside.</p>

This time around, the answer is:  “It depends, but given browser defaults, 16px.”

Really!  Even in Safari!  And in all tested browsers, it falls back to a generic monospace font at the requested size even if the specific family (or families) we declare aren’t available!  This can be verified by altering the specific font family to something that doesn’t actually exist:

span {font-family: "Corier Neu", monospace, serif; font-size: 1em;}

<p>This is a 'p' with a <span>'span'</span> inside.</p>

Monospacey goodness at the intended, parent-matching size.  It’s enough to make a body believe in monotheism.

Since I generally assume that anything I devise was already invented by someone else, I went Googling for prior art.  And wouldn’t you know it, the Wikipedia folks had worked it out around the end of last year.  This, of course, supports my contention that Wikipedia is the new Steve Allen.  I also found some claims that ending the font stack with monospace, monospace would have the same effect, but that wasn’t borne out in my testing.  Perhaps it worked in older versions of browsers but no longer does.

I did leave out another way to make monospaced fonts behave as expected, which you may have already figured out from the preceding: declare the font-size for any parent of a monospaced element to be a length value, along the lines of body {font-size: 12px;}.  That will pass the length value down the document tree to the monospaced element via inheritance, which will use it without resizing it in every browser I tested.  Though you may have heard that page zooming makes pixel-sized text okay, I’m not really convinced.  Not yet.  There are too many people who don’t know how to zoom, and too many whose browsers aren’t advanced enough to zoom pages.  Even in page-zooming browsers, there are problems with pixel text.  So I’m still on the ems-and-percentages bandwagon.

In fact, there are a fair number of details and extra browser oddities that I left out of this, as it’s already way more than long enough, and besides you don’t really want to hear the gory details of manually stepping through 37 different preferences settings just to verify a theory.  Plus you already heard about the font-size rounding investigation that spawned off of this one, about halfway through.  I think that’s more than enough for the time being.

I should also lay down a caveat: it’s possible that this behavior will be interpreted as a bug by the Safari team and “fixed”, if that’s the word I want, in a future release.  I really hope not—and if they’re looking for ways to improve how they handle monospace font sizing, I have a few suggestions—but it is possible.  Adjust your expectations accordingly.

And with that, I’m going to stop now.  I hope this will be useful to you, either now or in the future.

Rounding Off

In the course of digging into the guts of a much more complicated problem, I stumbled into an interesting philosophical question posed by web inspection tools.

Consider the following CSS and HTML:

p {font-size: 10px;}
b {font-size: 1.04em;}

<p>This is text <b>with some boldfacing</b>.</p>

Simple enough.  Now, what is the computed font-size for the b element?

There are two valid answers.  Most likely one of them is intuitively obvious to you, but take a moment to contemplate the rationale for the answer you didn’t pick.

Now, consider the ramifications of both choices on a situation where there are b elements nested ten layers deep.

If you hold that the answer is 10px, then the computed font-size of the tenth level of nesting should still be 10px, because at every level of nesting the mathematical answer will be rounded down to 10.  That is: for every b element, its computed font-size will be round(10*1.04), which will always yield 10.

If, on the other hand, you hold that the answer is 10.4px, then the computed font-size of the tenth level of nesting should be 14.802442849px.  That might get rounded to some smaller number of decimal places, but even so, the number should be pretty close to 14.8.

The simplest test, of course, is to set up a ten-level-deep nesting of b elements with the previously-shown CSS and find out what happens.  If the whole line of text is the same size, then browsers round their computed font-size values before passing them on.  If the text swells in size as the nesting gets deeper, then they don’t.

As it happens, in all the browsers I’ve tested, the text swells, so browsers are passing along fractional pixel values from level to level.  That’s not the interesting philosophical question.  Instead, it is this:  do web inspectors that show integer font-size values in their ‘computed style’ windows lie to us?

To see what I mean, load up the font size rounding test page in Firefox and use Firebug to inspect the “1(“, which is the first of the b elements, in the first (1.04em) test case.  Make sure you’re looking at the “Computed Styles” pane in Firebug, and you’ll get a computed font-size of 10.4px.  That makes sense: it’s 10 × 1.04.

Now try the inspecting that same “1(” in Safari or Opera.  Both browsers will tell you that the computed font-size of that b element is 10px.  But we already know that it’s actually 10.4px, because the more deeply-nested layers of b elements increase in size.  These inspectors are rounding off the internal number before showing it to us.  Arguably, they are lying to us.

But are they really?  The reason to doubt this conclusion is that the values shown in those inspectors accurately reflect the value being used to render the characters on-screen.  To see what I mean, look at the last example on the test page, where there’s sub-pixel size testing.  The “O” characters run from a flat 10 pixels to a flat 11 pixels in tenths (or less) of a pixel, all of their font-sizes assigned with inline style elements to pin the characters down as much as possible.  In Safari, you can see the size jump up one pixel right around the text’s midpoint, where I wrote font-size: 10.5px.  So everything from 10px to 10.49px gets drawn at 10 pixels tall; everything from 10.5px to 11px is 11 pixels tall.  Safari’s inspector reflects this accurately.  It’s telling you the size used to draw the text.

A comparative illustration of the many-O test case in three different browsers showing three different results.  The browsers used to create the illustration were Safari, Opera, and Firefox.

In Opera 10.10, you get the same thing except that the jump from 10 to 11 pixels happens on the very last “O”, both visually and in the inspector (Dragonfly).  That means that when it comes to font sizes, Opera always rounds down.  Everything from 10px to 10.9px—and, presumably, 10.99999px for as many nines as you’d care to add—will be drawn 10 pixels tall.  Brilliant.

In Firefox for OS X, there’s no size jump.  The “O” characters look like they form a smooth line of same-size text.  In fact, they’re all being drawn subtly differently, thanks to their subtly different font-size values.  If you use OS X’s Universal Access screen zooming to zoom way, way in, you can see the differences in pixel shading from one “O” to the next.  Even if you don’t, though, the fact that it’s hard to tell that there is an increase in size from one end of the line to the other is evidence enough.

In Firefox for XP, on the other hand, the size jump occurs just as it does in Safari, going from 10 pixels to 11 pixels of text size at the 10.5 mark.  But Firebug still reports the correct computed font-size values.  Thus, its reported value doesn’t match the size of the text that’s been output to the screen.  Arguably, it’s lying just as much as Safari and Opera,  in a different way.

But, again: is it really?  The computed values are being accurately reported.  That there is a small variance between that fractional number and the display of the text is arguably irrelevant, and can lead to its own confusion.  Situations will arise where apparent rounding errors have occurred—I see people complain about them from time to time—when the apparent error is really an artifact of how information is delivered.

I have my own thoughts about all this, but I’m much more interested in the thoughts of others.  What do you think?  Should web inspectors report the CSS computed values accurately, without regard to the actual rendering effects; or should the inspectors modify the reported values to more accurately reflect the visual rendering, thus obscuring the raw computed values?

Addendum 10 Feb 10: I’ve updated the test page with a JS link that will dynamically insert the results of getComputedStyle(el,null).getPropertyValue("font-size") into the test cases.  The results are completely consistent with what the inspectors report in each browser.  This tells us something about the inspectors that most of us probably don’t consciously realize: that what they show us rests directly on the same JS/DOM calls we could write ourselves.  In other words, inspectors are not privileged in what they can “see”; they have no special view into the browser’s guts.  Thus another way to look at this topic is that inspectors simply repeat the lies that browsers tell the world.

February 2017