@media (prefers-color-scheme: dark) {
html body {filter: invert(1);}
/* the following really should be managed by a cascade layer */
html img,
html img.book.cover,
html img.book.cover.big,
html #archipelago a:hover img {filter: invert(1);}
html #thoughts figure.standalone img {
box-shadow: 0.25em 0.25em 0.67em #FFF8;
}
}
It’s the work of about five minutes’ thought and typing, so I suspect it’s teetering on the edge of Minimum Viable Product, but I’m not sure which side of that line it lands on.
Other than restructuring things so that I can use Cascade Layers to handle the Light and Dark Mode styling, what am I missing or overlooking? <video> elements, I suppose, but anything else jump out at you as in need of correction? Let me know!
(P.S. “Use only classes, never IDs” is not something that needs to be corrected. Yes, I know why people think that, and this situation seems to be an argument in favor of that view, but I have a different view and will not be converting IDs to classes. Thanks in advance for your forbearance.)
I’ve just committed my first :has() selector to production CSS and want to share it, so I will! But first, a little context that will feel familiar to nerds like me who post snippets of computer code to the Web, and have markup with this kind of tree structure (not raw source; we’d never allow this much formatting whitespace inside a <pre>):
<pre>
<code>
{{content goes here}}
</code>
</pre>
It’s nicely semantic, indicating that the contents of the <pre> are in fact code of some kind, as opposed to just plain preformatted text like, say, output from a shell script or npm job, which isn’t code and thus should, perhaps, be styled in a distinct way.
Given cases like that, you’ve probably written rules that go a little something like this:
Which says: if a <code> element is the child of a <pre> element, then turn the <code> into a block box and give it some background color, padding, etc.
It works out fine, but it always feels a little fragile. What if there are already <pre> styles that throw off the intended effect on code blocks? Do we get into specificity wars between those rules and the code-block rules? Find other ways to figure out what should be adjusted in which cases? Those are probably manageable problems, but it would be better not to have them.
It’s also, when you step back for a moment, a little weird. The <pre> is already a block box and the container for the code; why aren’t we styling that? Because unless you wrote some scripting, whether server-side or client-side, to add a class to the <pre> in scenarios like this, there wasn’t a way to address it directly based on its structural contents.
First of all, ew, address the root problem here if at all possible. But if that isn’t possible for whatever reason, you can still style the <pre> based on the presence of a <code> by removing the child combinator from the selector. In other words:
Now I’m styling any <pre> that has a <code> as a descendant — child, grandchild, great-great-great-great grandchild, whatever.
Which is not only more robust, it’s a lot more future-proof: even if some hot new front-end framework that sticks in <span> elements or something gets added to the site next year, this style will just keep chugging along, styling <pre> elements that contain <code> elements until long after that hot new framework has cooled to ash and been chucked into the bit-bucket.
There is one thing to keep in mind here, as pointed out by Emmanuel over on Mastodon: if you have a scenario where <pre> elements can contain child text nodes in addition to <code> blocks, the <pre> will still be styled in its entirely. Consider:
<pre>
{{some text is here}}
<code>
{{content goes here}}
</code>
{{or text is here}}
</pre>
pre:has(> code) and pre:has(code) will still match the <pre> element here, which means all of the text (both inside and outside the <code> elements) will sit inside the light-gray box with the rounded corners. If that’s fine for your use case, great! If not, then don’t use :has() in this scenario, and stick with the pre > code {…} or pre code {…} approach of yore. That will style just the <code> elements instead of the whole <pre>, as in the example at the beginning of this article.
As I write this, the code hasn’t gone into production on wpewebkit.org yet, but I think it will within the next week or two, and will be my first wide-production use of :has(). I feel like it’s a great way to close out 2022 and kick off 2023, because I am that kind of nerd. If you are too, I hope you enjoyed this quick dive into the world of :has().
With the mass Mastodon migration currently underway in the circles I
frequent, I spend more time there, and I missed the quick visual
indication of images having alt text, as well as my de-emphasis styles
for those images that don’t have useful alt text. So I put the two together and
wrote a new user stylesheet, which I apply via the Stylus browser extension. If you’d like to also use it, please do so!
Because most of my (admittedly limited and sporadic) Mastodon time is
spent on mastodon.social, the styles I wrote are attuned to
mastodon.social’s markup. I set things up so these styles should be
applied to any *.social site, but only those who use the
same markup mastodon.social uses will get the benefits. pinafore.social,
for example, has different markup (I think they’re using Svelte).
You can always adapt the selectors to fit the markup of whatever
Mastodon instance you use, if you’re so inclined. Please feel free to share your
changes in the comments, or in posts of your own. And with any luck,
this will be a temporary solution before Mastodon adds these sorts of
things natively, just as Twitter eventually did.
Addendum: It was rightly pointed out to me that Firefox does not, as of this writing, support :has() by default. If you want to use this in Firefox, as I do, set the layout.css.has-selector.enabled flag in about:config to true.
Like many of you, I’ve been checking out Mastodon and finding more and more things I like. Including the use of XFN (XHTML Friends Network) semantics to verify ownership of sites you link from your profile’s metadata! What that means is, you can add up to four links in your profile, and if you have an XFN-compliant link on that URL pointing to your Mastodon profile, it will show up as verified as actually being your site.
Okay, that probably also comes off a little confusing. Let me walk through the process.
First, go to your home Mastodon server and edit your profile. On servers like mastodon.social, there should be an “Edit profile” link under your user avatar.
I saw the same thing on another Mastodon server where I have an account, so it seems to be common to Mastodon in general. I can’t know what every Mastodon server does, though, so you might have to root around to find how you edit your profile. (Similarly, I can’t be sure that everything will be exactly as I depict it below, but hopefully it will be at least reasonably close.)
Under “Appearance” in the profile editing screen, which I believe is the default profile editing page, there should be a section called “Profile metadata”. You’ll probably have to scroll a bit to reach it. You can add up to four labels with content, and a very common label is “Web” or “Homepage” with the URL of your personal server. They don’t all have to be links to sites; you could add your favorite color or relationship preference(s) or whatever
But look, over there next to the table, there’s a “Verification” section, with a little bit of explanation and a field containing some markup you can copy, but it’s cut off before the end of the markup. Here’s what mine looks like in full:
If I take this markup and add it to any URL I list in my metadata, then that entry in my metadata table will get special treatment, because it will mean I’ve verified it.
The important part is the rel="me", which establishes a shared identity. Here’s how it’s (partially) described by XFN 1.1:
A link to yourself at a different URL. Exclusive of all other XFN values. Required symmetric.
I admit, that’s written in terse spec-speak, so let’s see how this works out in practice.
First, let’s look at the markup in my Mastodon profile’s page. Any link to another site in the table of profile metadata has a me value in the rel attribute, like so:
That means I’ve claimed via Mastodon that meyerweb.com is me at another URL.
But that’s not enough, because I could point at the home page of, say, Wikipedia as if it were mine. That’s why XFN requires the relationship to be symmetric, which is to say, there needs to be a rel="me" annotated link on each end. (On both ends. However you want to say that.)
So on the page being pointed to, which in my case is https://meyerweb.com/, I need to include a link back to my Mastodon profile page, and that link also has to have rel="me". That’s the markup Mastodon provided for me to copy, which we saw before and I’ll repeat here:
Again, the important part is that the href points to my Mastodon profile page, and there’s a rel attribute containing me. It can contain other things, like noreferrer, but needs to have me for the verfiication to work. Note that the content of the link element doesn’t have to be the text “Mastodon”. In my case, I’m using a Mastodon logo, with the markup looking like this:
With that in place, there’s a “me” link pointing to a page that contains a “me” link. That’s a symmetric relationship, as XFN requires, and it verifies that the two pages have a shared owner. Who is me!
Thus, if you go to my Mastodon profile page, in the table of my profile metadata, the entry for my homepage is specially styled to indicate it’s been verified as actually belonging to me.
And that’s how it works.
Next question: how can I verify my GitHub page? At the moment, I’d have to put my Mastodon profile page’s URL into the one open field for URLs in GitHub profiles, because GitHub also does the rel="me" thing for its profile links. But if I do that, I’d have to remove the link to my homepage, which I don’t want to do.
Until GitHub either provides a dedicated Mastodon profile field the way it provides a dedicated Twitter profile field, or else allows people to add multiple URLs to their profiles the way Mastodon does, I won’t be able to verify my GitHub page on Mastodon. Not a huge deal for me, personally, but in general it would be nice to see GitHub become more flexible in this area. Very smart people are also asking for this, so hopefully that will happen soon(ish).
I talked in my last post about how I used linear gradients to recreate dashed lines for the navlinks and navbar of wpewebkit.org, but that wasn’t the last instance of dashing gradients in the design. I had occasion to use that technique again, except this time as a way to create a gradient dash. I mean, a dashed line that has a visible gradient from one color to another, as well as a dashed line that’s constructed using a linear gradient. Only this time, the dashed gradient is used to create the gaps, not the dashes.
To set the stage, here’s the bit of the design I had to create:
The vertical dashed line down the left side of the design is a dashed linear gradient, but that’s not actually relevant. It could have been a dashed border style, or an SVG, or really anything. And that image on the right is a PNG, but that’s also not really relevant. What’s relevant is I had to make sure the image was centered in the content column, and yet its dashed line connected to the left-side dashed line, regardless of where the image landed in the actual content.
Furthermore, the colors of the two dashed lines were different at the point I was doing the implementation: the left-side line was flat black, and the line in the image was more of a dark gray. I could have just connected a dark gray line to the black, but it didn’t look right. A color transition was needed, while still being a dashed line.
Ideally, I was looking for a solution that would allow a smooth color fade over the connecting line’s length while also allowing the page background color to show through. Because the page background might sometimes be white and sometimes be a light blue and might in the future be lime green wavy pattern or something, who knows.
So I used a dashed linear gradient as a mask. The CSS goes like this:
Please allow me to break it down a step at a time.
First, there’s the positioning of the pseudo-element, reaching leftward 5rem from the left edge of the content column, which here I’ve annotated with a red outline. (I prefer outlines to borders because outlines don’t participate in layout, so they can’t shift things around.)
The pseudo-element does happen to touch the end of one of the vertical dashes, but that’s purely by coincidence. It could have landed anywhere, including between two dashes.
So now it was time for a mask. CSS Masks are images used to hide parts of an element based on the contents of the masking image, usually its alpha channel. (Using luminosity to define transparency levels via the mask-mode property is also an option, but Chrome doesn’t support that as yet.) For example, you can use small images to clip off the corners of an element.
In this case, I defined a repeating linear gradient because I knew what size the dashes should be, and I didn’t want to mess with mask-size and mask-repeat (ironically enough, as you’ll see in a bit). This way, the mask is 100% the size of the element’s box, and I just need to repeat the gradient pattern however many times are necessary to cross the entire width of the element’s background.
Given the design constraints, I wanted the dash pattern to start from the right side, the one next to the image, and repeat leftward, to ensure that the dash pattern would look unbroken. Thus I set its direction to be 270 degrees. Here I’ll have it alternate between red and transparent, because the actual color used for the opaque parts of the mask doesn’t matter, only its opacity:
The way the mask works, the transparent parts of the masking image cause the corresponding parts of the element to be transparent — to be clipped away, in effect. The opaque parts, whatever color they actually have, cause the corresponding parts of the element to be drawn. Thus, the parts of the background’s black-to-gray gradient that line up with the opaque parts of the mask are rendered, and the rest of the gradient is not. Thus, a color-fading dashed line.
This is actually why I separated the ends of the color stops by a pixel: by defining a one-pixel distance for the transition from transparent to opaque (and vice versa), the browser fills those pixels in with something partway between those two states. It’s probably 50% opaque, but that’s really up to the browser.
The result is a softening effect, which matches well with the dashed line in the image itself and doesn’t look out of place when it meets up with the left-hand vertical dashed line.
At least, everything I just showed you is what happens in Firefox, which proudly supports all the masking properties. In Chromium and WebKit browsers, you need vendor prefixes for masking to work. So here’s how the CSS turned out:
It still bugged me a little, though, because the dashes I created were one pixel tall, but the dashes in the image weren’t. They were more like a pixel and a half tall once you take the aliasing into account, so they probably started out 2 (or more) pixels tall and then got scaled down. The transition from those visually-slightly-larger dashes to the crisply-one-pixel-tall pseudo-element didn’t look quite right.
I’d hoped that just increasing the height of the pseudo-element to 2px would work, but that made the line look too thick. That meant I’d have to basically recreate the aliasing myself.
At first I considered leaving the mask as it was and setting up two linear gradients, the existing one on the bottom and a lighter one on top. Instead, I chose to keep the single background gradient and set up two masks, the original on the bottom and a more transparent one on top. Which meant I’d have to size and place them, and keep them from tiling. So, despite my earlier avoidance, I had to mess with mask sizing and repeating anyway.
In the end, this general technique is pretty much infinitely adaptable, in that you could define any dash pattern you like and have it repeat over a gradient, background image, or even just a plain background color. It could be used to break up an element containing text, so it looks like the text has been projected onto a thick dashed line, or put some diagonal slashes through text, or an image, or a combination.
Or use a tiled radial gradient to make your own dotted line, one that’s fully responsive without ever clipping a dot partway through. Wacky line patterns with tiled, repeated conic gradients? Sure, why not?
The point being, masks let you break up the rectangularity of elements, which can go a long way toward making designs feel more alive. Give ’em a try and see what you come up with!
One of the many things Igalia does is maintain an official port of WebKit for embedded devices called WPE WebKit, and as you might expect, it has a web site. The design had gotten a little stale since its launch a few years ago, so we asked Denis Radenković at 38one to come up with a new design, which we launched yesterday. And I got to turn it into HTML and CSS! Which was mostly normal stuff, margins and font sizing and all that, but also had some bits that called for some creativity.
There was one aspect of the design that I honestly thought wasn’t going to be possible, which was the way the “current page” link in the site navbar connected up to the rest of the page’s design via a dashed line. You can see it on the site, or in this animation about how each navlink was designed to appear.
I thought about using bog-standard dashed element borders: one on a filler element or pseudo-element that spanned the mostly-empty left side of the navbar, and one on each navlink before the current one, and then… I don’t know. I didn’t get that far, because I realized the dashed borders would almost certainly stutter, visually. What I mean is, the dashes wouldn’t follow a regular on-off pattern, which would look fairly broken.
My next thought was to figure out how to size a filler element or pseudo-element so that it was the exact width needed to reach the middle of the active navlink. Maybe there’s a clever way to do that with just HTML and CSS, but I couldn’t think of a way to do it that wasn’t either structurally nauseating or dependent on me writing clever JavaScript. So I tossed that idea, though I’ll return to it at the end of the post.
In the end, it was the interim development styles that eventually got me there. See, while building out other parts of the design, I just threw a dashed border on the bottom of the navbar, which (as is the way of borders) spanned its entire bottom edge. At some point I glanced up at it and thought, If only I could figure out a mask that would clip off the part of the border I don’t need. And slowly, I realized that with a little coding sleight-of-hand, I could almost exactly do that.
First, I removed the bottom border from the navbar and replaced it with a dashed linear gradient background, like this:
(Okay, I actually used the background shorthand form of the above — linear-gradient(…) 0 100% / 8px 1px repeat-x — but the result is the same.)
I thought about using repeating-linear-gradient, which would have let me skip having to declare a background-repeat, but would have required me to size the gradient’s color stops using length units instead of percentages. I liked how, with the above, I could set the color stops with percentages, and then experiment with the size of the image using background-size. (7px 1px? 9px 1px? 8px 1.33px? Tried ’em all, and then some.) But that’s mostly a personal preference, not based in any obvious performance or clarity win, so if you want to try this with a repeating gradient, go for it.
But wait. What was the point of recreating the border’s built-in dash effect with a gradient background? Well, as I said, it made it easier to experiment with different sizes. It also allowed me to create a dash pattern that would be very consistent across browsers, which border-style dashes very much are not.
But primarily, I wanted the dashes to be in the background of the navbar because I could then add small solid-color gradients to the backgrounds of the navlinks that come after the active one.
Here’s the result, with the gradient set to be visible with a pinkish fill instead of #FFF so we can see it:
You can see how the pink hides the dashes. In the actual styles, because the #FFF is the same as the design’s page background, those list items’ background gradients are placed over top of (and thus hide) the navbar’s background dash.
I should point out that the color stop on the white solid gradient could have been at 1px rather than 2px and still worked, but I decided to give myself a little bit of extra coverage, just for peace of mind. I should also point out that I didn’t
just fill the backgrounds of the list items with background-color: #FFF because the navbar has a semitransparent white background fill and a blurring background-filter, so the page content can be hazily visible through the navbar, as shown here.
The white line is slightly suboptimal in this situation, but it doesn’t really stand out and does add a tiny bit of visual accent to the navbar’s edge, so I was willing to go with it.
The next step was a little trickier: there needs to be a vertical dashed line “connecting” to the navbar’s dashed line at the horizontal center of the link, and also the navbar’s dashed line needs to be hidden, but only to the right of the vertical dashed line. I thought about doing two background gradients on the list item, one for the vertical dashed line and one for the white “mask”, but I realized that constraining the vertical dashed line to be half the height of the list item while also getting the repeating pattern correct was too much for my brain to figure out.
Instead, I positioned and sized a generated pseudo-element like this:
That has the generated pseudo-element fill the bottom right quadrant of the active link’s list item, with a vertical dashed linear gradient running along its left edge and a solid white two-pixel gradient along its bottom edge, with the solid white below the vertical dash. Here it is, with the background pinkishly filled in to be visible behind the two gradients.
With that handled, the last step was to add the dash across the bottom of the current-page link and then mask the vertical line with a background color, like so:
nav.global ul li.currentPage a {
position: relative;
z-index: 2;
background: var(--dashH); /* converted the dashes to variables */
background-size: 0.5em 1px;
background-position: 50% 100%;
background-color: #FFF;
}
And that was it. Now, any of the navbar links can be flagged as the current page (with a class of currentPage on the enclosing list item) and will automatically link up with the dashes across the bottom of the navbar, with the remainder of that navbar dash hidden by the various solid white gradient background images.
So, it’s kind of a hack, and I wish there were a cleaner way to do this. And maybe there is! I pondered setting up a fine-grained grid and adding an SVG with a dashed path, or maybe a filler <span>, to join the current link to the line. That also feels like a hack, but maybe less of one. Or maybe not!
What I believe I want are the capabilities promised by the Anchored Positioning proposal. I think I could have done something like:
…and then used that to run the dashed line over from the left side of the page to underneath the midpoint of the current link, and then up to the bottom edge of that link. Which would have done away with the need for the li ~ li overlaid-background hack, and nearly all the other hackery. I mean, I enjoy hackery as much as the next codemonaut, but I’m happier when the hacks are more elegant and minimal.
One of the more interesting design challenges of The Effects of Nuclear Weapons was the fact that, like many technical texts, it has footnotes. Not a huge number, and in fact one chapter has none at all, but they couldn’t be ignored. And I didn’t want them to be inline between paragraphs or stuck into the middle of the text.
This was actually a case where Chris and I decided to depart a bit from the print layout, because in print a chapter has many pages, but online it has a single page. So we turned the footnotes into endnotes, and collected them all near the end of each chapter.
Originally I had thought about putting footnotes off to one side in desktop views, such as in the right-hand grid gutter. After playing with some rough prototypes, I realized this wasn’t going to go the way I wanted it to, and would likely make life difficult in a variety of display sizes between the “big desktop monitor” and “mobile device” realms. I don’t know, maybe I gave up too easily, but Chris and I had already decided that endnotes were an acceptable adaptation and I decided to roll with that.
So here’s how the footnotes work. First off, in the main-body text, a footnote marker is wrapped in a <sup> element and is a link that points at a named anchor in the endnotes. (I may go back and replace all the superscript elements with styled <mark> elements, but for now, they’re superscript elements.) Here’s an example from the beginning of Chapter I, which also has a cross-reference link in it, classed as such even though we don’t actually style them any differently than other links.
This is true for a conventional “high explosive,” such as TNT, as well as for a nuclear (or atomic) explosion,<sup><a href="#fnote01">1</a></sup> although the energy is produced in quite different ways (<a href="#§1.11" class="xref">§ 1.11</a>).
Then, down near the end of the document, there’s a section that contains an ordered list. Inside that list are the endnotes, which are in part marked up like this:
<li id="fnote01"><sup>1</sup> The terms “nuclear” and atomic” may be used interchangeably so far as weapons, explosions, and energy are concerned, but “nuclear” is preferred for the reason given in <a href="#§1.11" class="xref">§ 1.11</a>.
The list item markers are switched off with CSS, and superscripted numbers stand in their place. I do it that way because the footnote numbers are important to the content, but also have specific presentation demands that are difficult — nay, impossible — to pull off with normal markers, like raising them superscript-style. (List markers are only affected by a very limited set of properties.)
In order to get the footnote text to align along the start (left) edge of their content and have the numbers hang off the side, I elected to use the old negative-text-indent-positive-padding trick:
.endnotes li {
padding-inline-start: 0.75em;
text-indent: -0.75em;
}
That works great as long as there are never any double-digit footnote numbers, which was indeed the case… until Chapter VIII. Dang it.
So, for any footnote number above 9, I needed a different set of values for the indent-padding trick, and I didn’t feel like adding in a bunch of greater-than-nine classes. Following-sibling combinator to the rescue!
The extra negative start margin is necessary solely to get the text in the list items to align horizontally, though unnecessary if you don’t care about that sort of thing.
Okay, so the endnotes looked right when seen in their list, but I needed a way to get back to the referring paragraph after reading a footnote. Thus, some “backjump” links got added to each footnote, pointing back to the paragraph that referred to them.
With that, a reader can click/tap a footnote number to jump to the corresponding footnote, then click/tap the reference link to get back to where they started. Which is fine, as far as it goes, but that idea of having footnotes appear in context hadn’t left me. I decided I’d make them happen, one way or another.
(Throughout all this, I wished more than once the HTML 3.0 proposal for <fn> had gone somewhere other than the dustbin of history and the industry’s collective memory hole. Ah, well.)
I was thinking I’d need some kind of JavaScript thing to swap element nodes around when it occurred to me that clicking a footnote number would make the corresponding footnote list item a target, and if an element is a target, it can be styled using the :target pseudo-class. Making it appear in context could be a simple matter of positioning it in the viewport, rather than with relation to the document. And so:
That is to say, when an endnote list item is targeted, it’s fixedly positioned against the bottom of the viewport and given some padding and background and a top border and a box shadow, so it has a bit of a halo above it that sets it apart from the content it’s overlaying. It actually looks pretty sweet, if I do say so myself, and allows the reader to see footnotes without having to jump back and forth on the page. Now all I needed was a way to make the footnote go away.
Again I thought about going the JavaScript route, but I’m trying to keep to the Web’s slower pace layers as much as possible in this project for maximum compatibility over time and technology. Thus, every footnote gets a “close this” link right after the backjump link, marked up like this:
<a href="#fnclosed" class="close">X</a></li>
(I realize that probably looks a little weird, but hang in there and hopefully I can clear it up in the next few paragraphs.)
So every footnote ends with two links, one to jump to the paragraph (or heading) that referred to it, which is unnecessary when the footnote has popped up due to user interaction; and then, one to make the footnote go away, which is unnecessary when looking at the list of footnotes at the end of the chapter. It was time to juggle display and visibility values to make each appear only when necessary.
Thus, the “close this” links are hidden by default, and revealed when the list item is targeted and thus pops up. By contrast, the backjump links are shown by default, and hidden when the list item is targeted.
As it now stands, this approach has some upsides and some downsides. One upside is that, since a URL with an identifier fragment is distinct from the URL of the page itself, you can dismiss a popped-up footnote with the browser’s Back button. On kind of the same hand, though, one downside is that since a URL with an identifier fragment is distinct from the URL of the page itself, if you consistently use the “close this” link to dismiss a popped-up footnote, the browser history gets cluttered with the opened and closed states of various footnotes.
This is bad because you can get partway through a chapter, look at a few footnotes, and then decide you want to go back one page by hitting the Back button, at which point you discover have to go back through all those footnote states in the history before you actually go back one page.
I feel like this is a thing I can (probably should) address by layering progressively-enhancing JavaScript over top of all this, but I’m still not quite sure how best to go about it. Should I add event handlers and such so the fragment-identifier stuff is suppressed and the URL never actually changes? Should I add listeners that will silently rewrite the browser history as needed to avoid this? Ya got me. Suggestions or pointers to live examples of solutions to similar problems are welcomed in the comments below.
Less crucially, the way the footnote just appears and disappears bugs me a little, because it’s easy to miss if you aren’t looking in the right place. My first thought was that it would be nice to have the footnote unfurl from the bottom of the page, but it’s basically impossible (so far as I can tell) to animate the height of an element from 0 to auto. You also can’t animate something like bottom: calc(-1 * calculated-height) to 0 because there is no CSS keyword (so far as I know) that returns the calculated height of an element. And you can’t really animate from top: 100vh to bottom: 0 because animations are of a property’s values, not across properties.
I’m currently considering a quick animation from something like bottom: -50em to 0, going on the assumption that no footnote will ever be more than 50 em tall, regardless of the display environment. But that means short footnotes will slide in later than tall footnotes, and probably appear to move faster. Maybe that’s okay? Maybe I should do more of a fade-and-scale-in thing instead, which will be visually consistent regardless of footnote size. Or I could have them 3D-pivot up from the bottom edge of the viewport! Or maybe this is another place to layer a little JS on top.
Or maybe I’ve overlooked something that will let me unfurl the way I first envisioned with just HTML and CSS, a clever new technique I’ve missed or an old solution I’ve forgotten. As before, comments with suggestions are welcome.
One of the bigger challenges of recreating The Effects of Nuclear Weapons for the Web was its tables. It was easy enough to turn tab-separated text and numbers into table markup, but the column alignment almost broke me.
To illustrate what I mean, here are just a few examples of columns that had to be aligned.
At first I naïvely thought, “No worries, I can right- or left-align most of these columns and figure out the rest later.” But then I looked at the centered column headings, and how the column contents were essentially centered on the headings while having their own internal horizontal alignment logic, and realized all my dreams of simple fixes were naught but ashes.
My next thought was to put blank spacer columns between the columns of visible content, since table layout doesn’t honor the gap property, and then set a fixed width for various columns. I really didn’t like all the empty-cell spam that would require, even with liberal application of the rowspan attribute, and it felt overly fragile — any shifts in font face (say, on an older or niche system) might cause layout upset within the visible columns, such as wrapping content that shouldn’t be wrapped or content overlapping other content. I felt like there was a better answer.
I also thought about segregating every number and symbol (including decimal separators) into separate columns, like this:
<tr>
<th>Neutrinos from fission products</th>
<td>10</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr class="total">
<th>Total energy per fission</th>
<td>200</td>
<td>±</td>
<td>6</td>
</tr>
Then I contemplated what that would do to screen readers and the document structure in general, and after the nausea subsided, I decided to look elsewhere.
It was at that point I thought about using spacer <span>s. Like, anywhere I needed some space next to text in order to move it to one side or the other, I’d throw in something like one of these:
Again, the markup spam repulsed me, but there was the kernel of an idea in there… and when I combined it with the truism “CSS doesn’t care what you expect elements to look or act like”, I’d hit upon my solution.
Let’s return to Table 1.43, which I used as an illustration in the announcement post. It’s shown here in its not-aligned and aligned states, with borders added to the table-cell elements.
This is exactly the same table, only with cells shifted to one side or another in the second case. To make this happen, I first set up a series of CSS rules:
For a given class, the table cell is translated along the X axis by the declared number of ch units. Yes, that means the table cells sharing a column no longer actually sit in the column. No, I don’t care — and neither, as I said, does CSS.
I chose the labels lp and rp for “left pad” and “right pad”, in part as a callback to the left-pad debacle of yore even though it has basically nothing to do with what I’m doing here. (Many of my class names are private jokes to myself. We take our pleasures where we can.) The number in each class name represents the number of “characters” to pad, which here increment by half-ch measures. Since I was trying to move things by characters, using the unit that looks like it’s a character measure (even though it really isn’t) made sense to me.
With those rules set up, I could add simple classes to table cells that needed to be shifted, like so:
That was most of the solution, but it turned out to not be quite enough. See, things like decimal places and commas aren’t as wide as the numbers surrounding them, and sometimes that was enough to prevent a specific cell from being able to line up with the rest of its column. There were also situations where the data cells could all be aligned with each other, but were unacceptably offset from the column header, which was nearly always centered.
So I decided to calc() the crap out of this to add the flexibility a custom property can provide. First, I set a sitewide variable:
body {
--offset: 0ch;
}
I then added that variable to the various transforms:
Why use a variable at all? Because it allows me to define offsets specific to a given table, or even specific to certain table cells within a table. Consider the styles embedded along with Table 3.66:
Yeah. The first cell of the first row and the seventh cell of every row in the table body needed to be shoved over an extra quarter-ch, and the fourth cell in every table-body row (under the heading “Sp”) got a tenth-ch nudge. You can judge the results for yourself.
So, in the end, I needed only sprinkle class names around table markup where needed, and add a little extra offset via a custom property that I could scope to exactly where needed. Sure, the whole setup is hackier than a panel of professional political pundits, but it works, and to my mind, it beats the alternatives.
I’d have been a lot happier if I could have aligned some of the columns on a specific character. I think I still would have needed the left- and right-pad approach, but there were a lot of columns where I could have reduced or eliminated all the classes. A quarter-century ago, HTML 4 had this capability, in that you could write:
But browsers never really supported these features, even if some of them do still have bugs
open on the issue. (I chuckle aridly every time I go there and see “Opened 24 years ago” a few lines above “Status: NEW”.) I know it’s not top of anybody’s wish list, but I wouldn’t mind seeing that capability return, somehow. Maybe as something that could be used in Grid column tracks as well as table columns.
I also found myself really pining for the ability to use attr() here, which would have allowed me to drop the classes and use data-* attributes on the table cells to say how far to shift them. I could even have dropped the offset variable. Instead, it could have looked something like this:
Alas, attr() is confined to the content property, and the idea of letting it be used more widely remains unrealized.
Anyway, that was my journey into recreating mid-20th-Century table column alignment on the Web. It’s true that sufficiently old browsers won’t get the fancy alignment due to not supporting custom properties or calc(), but the data will all still be there. It just won’t have the very specific column alignment, that’s all. Hooray for progressive enhancement!