Yi (Abby) Wang

Moving My Website from UBC Blogs to GitHub

2026-05-01T00:00:00+00:00

Today I officially moved my personal website from UBC Blogs (old website) to GitHub Pages.

My old personal website was created when I had just started my master’s degree at UBC Okanagan. In ENVI 550 (at that time called Research Seminar in Environmental Science), Prof. Ed Hornibrook encouraged us to build our own academic websites, so I used a template from the UBC Blogs platform to create one. As a new graduate student, I did not really have much to showcase as a scholar yet, so I simply put everything I had onto the website: book reflections, random thoughts, fieldwork diaries, volunteer activities, and many small pieces of student life, just to make the website feel a little less empty.

I’m not sure whether having a personal website really helps someone gain exposure in academia, but one thing I remember clearly is that after I graduated, my friend Grace from my old department told me that Prof. Hornibrook had shown several former students’ websites in class, including mine. I was honestly very surprised to hear that. I never expected something I made as a nervous first-year graduate student would still be seen by new students years later. In a way, that also became a small motivation for me to keep updating my website over the years.

Over time, the website gradually turned into a mixture of academic pages and personal blogs. It contains many pieces of old writing: reflections on books, fieldwork diaries, notes on data processing and coding, and many scattered thoughts from different stages of my student life. Looking back now, the website feels almost like a time capsule of my years as a student. Some posts feel immature, some feel nostalgic, and some still reflect thoughts I continue to carry with me today. Moving to a new platform feels symbolic in a way. It is not only a technical migration, but also a small personal transition. Perhaps it is finally time to formally say goodbye to my old school days and move into a new stage of life.

Last but no least, many thanks to the creators and contributors of the academicpages GitHub template for sharing such a neat and beautiful template with the academic community.

Book Reflections: 1587, a Year of No Significance by Ray Huang

2026-04-30T00:00:00+00:00

I don’t think this book should really be considered a rigorous academic work of history. It feels more like an exploration of a philosophy of history. In the book, the author presents a very original idea: the major events that directly lead to the fall of a dynasty often leave traces long before they actually happen, and those underlying signs are the true causes of the dynasty’s collapse. For example, in 1587, there were no major events that previous historians would have regarded as historically significant. The book portrays the depressed and passive emperor, Emperor Wanli; the Grand Secretary Shen Shixing, who mastered the art of political balance; the upright and incorruptible official Hai Rui; the talented yet socially astute general Qi Jiguang; and the unconventional thinker Li Zhi. Each of them acted according to their own ideals and believed they were contributing to society in meaningful ways. Yet sadly, none of them truly solved the crisis or rescued the country from decline. That was because the ultimate causes of the dynasty’s decay lay in the backwardness of its political, economic, and legal systems, such as the chaotic and inefficient tax structure and the governing philosophy of the scholar-official class, which relied on morality in place of rule of law. An individual’s failure is certainly unfortunate, but in this book I sensed an even greater tragedy: behind every simple line of text lay the widespread famine and unbearable suffering of ordinary people living under a backward system.

I also found myself relating, in a somewhat strange way, to the stories of two figures in the book. The first is Emperor Wanli. The way the scholar-officials lectured, pressured, and tried to discipline him felt very much like what we would now call “East Asian parenting.” Because he occupied the throne, he was never allowed to freely develop his own personality. The officials attempted to shape him according to their ideal image of what an emperor should be, and in the end, all it produced was resistance and apathy. The second is the philosopher Li Zhi, who became a monk in order to sever ties with his family. In traditional Chinese society, a scholar’s success was rarely achieved without the sacrifices and support of several generations of the family. Therefore, once that person became successful, it was implicitly understood that they owed responsibility to the family in return. Li Zhi, as an unconventional thinker, did not want to be bound by those obligations. Regardless of whether his choice was right or wrong, I can understand it, because my own opportunity to study abroad was also made possible through my family’s support, especially financially. My struggle is this: when the life one chooses for oneself does not align with the expectations of one’s family, how can both sides be fulfilled? Or perhaps, as the Chinese saying goes, one cannot have both the fish and the bear’s paw?

A Pleasant Surprise from Canadian Geophysical Union

2026-03-20T00:00:00+00:00

I was very surprised and happy to learn that I was selected as one of the recipients of the Canadian Geophysical Union (CGU) Student & Early Career Researcher Travel Award for CGU 2026.

I am very grateful to the CGU for the support, and I am looking forward to attending the conference and sharing my work there :)

Book Reflections: Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann

2025-12-30T00:00:00+00:00

The crimes committed against the Osage people described in this book are truly horrifying. What is even more infuriating is that most of the perpetrators never received the punishment they deserved, and many truths have been buried by history, beyond any possibility of accountability.

What this book made me realize is that if justice is to be upheld and evil truly confronted, procedural justice alone is far from enough. When an entire system, from witnesses to jurors to judges, is complicit, there can be no real justice at all.

Finishing this book on the eve of the New Year left me feeling deeply unsettled and depressed :(

Book Reflections: Pachinko by Min Jin Lee

2025-10-11T00:00:00+00:00

At first, I kept wondering why the book was titled Pachinko, since pachinko is a gambling game and the term hardly appeared in the first two parts of the novel. It was not until I reached the story of the fourth generation, Solomon, that I finally understood its meaning. For Koreans living in Japan, pachinko represented the only path to survival outside the yakuza within a society deeply rooted in prejudice. Whether it was the shrewd and smooth Goro, the passionate and hardworking Mozasu, the intelligent and upright Noa, or the well-educated Solomon who studied in the United States, their personalities and abilities were very different, yet under Japan’s rigid social bias, they all ended up running pachinko parlors. No matter how honest or wealthy they became, they could never be accepted as truly Japanese. Even though they were born and raised in Japan and spoke Japanese as their first language, they could never escape the discrimination tied to their Korean heritage. As a first-generation immigrant myself, I deeply resonated with their sense of alienation.

I read both the Chinese and English versions of the novel. Although the content is the same, the English version impressed me with its concise and precise use of language, which I found very helpful for improving my English writing.

One thing I found slightly disappointing is that while the novel uses the life of Sunja to connect the family’s story across generations in Japan, her characterization felt somewhat shallow. She witnessed everything: the political shifts between Korea and Japan, her husband’s arrest and death, her son’s suicide, her mother’s passing, and her family friend’s disappearance after returning to North Korea. Yet her inner world seems focused almost entirely on her two sons, Noa and Mozasu. Beyond that, she appears almost mechanical, with little emotional depth revealed.

In addition, the novel ends rather abruptly. Sunja visits Isak’s grave and learns that during the years when Noa had cut ties with the family, he still came quietly to pay his respects. Sunja then buries the photographs of her two sons beside Isak’s grave, and the story ends there. The conclusion felt too sudden to me, leaving little time for reflection or closure.

I initially picked up Pachinko to learn more about Korean culture, but to my surprise, the novel focuses more on the prejudice and rigidity of Japanese society. In one sentence, this book is the story of Koreans in Japan, a history of their suffering, struggle, and perseverance across generations.

Book Reflections: Notorious RBG by Shana Knizhnik and Irin Carmon

2025-08-25T00:00:00+00:00

Before reading this book, I had already read Becoming Beauvoir, so it felt natural for me to wonder whether RBG might also be a kind of Beauvoir. To be honest, they do share many similarities: both were gifted and outstanding in their studies, both had good appearances, and both carved out a place for themselves in male-dominated fields while constantly facing neglect, ridicule, and discrimination. Yet RBG was perhaps more fortunate than Beauvoir. First, in her personal life, if the accounts of her husband Martin in this book are accurate and reliable, Martin far surpassed Sartre in terms of gender equality and respect for women. Second, in her career, once RBG became a Supreme Court Justice, she no longer had to fear retaliation or even the loss of her job for speaking out. This allowed her to live with a freer sense of justice and moral courage. It made me reflect that for women to truly stand up and have a voice, sound social institutions and protections are necessary. Compared to Beauvoir’s era, society has indeed made some progress.

In addition, I feel that RBG’s feminist thought inherited Beauvoir’s insight that stereotypes about women are socially constructed. For this reason, she actively worked to dismantle the law’s reinforcement of such stereotypes. The inspiration I draw from RBG’s success is that we must pursue the careers we are passionate about with energy and persistence, build broad social influence, and remain keenly aware of the times so as to seize opportunities. Of course, choosing the right life partner is also of great importance. Unfortunately, not everyone is lucky enough to find the right person, and it is not something that can be forced. What we can do, above all, is to achieve financial independence and become self-reliant individuals whose strength comes not only from external support but also from within.

Book Reflections: The End of History and the Last Man by Francis Fukuyama

2025-07-16T00:00:00+00:00

This book is certainly not obscure, but it still took me more than half a year to finish reading it. To be honest, I preferred the first and middle parts of the book, which explain why authoritarian and dictatorial regimes may eventually collapse, the superiority of liberal democracy, the complementary relationship between capitalism and liberal democracy, the directional nature of history and the constraining role of natural science, as well as the idea that humans are driven by the desire for recognition. I found these arguments highly persuasive, comprehensive, and supported by numerous examples that made them relatively easy to understand.

However, I disagree with the book’s conclusion that we are now at the “end of history.” If humans are driven by the desire for recognition and seek superiority, then although capitalist liberal democracies provide many channels for individuals to pursue excellence in different ways, this sense of superiority, as discussed earlier in the book’s analysis of nationalism, does not necessarily lead to full recognition. Where there is superiority, there will always be some who are “masters” and others who are “slaves,” meaning inequality will continue to exist. As a result, there can never be truly “universal recognition” in every aspect of society, nor will there ever be the so-called “last man” as Fukuyama defines him: someone who is secure, materially abundant, and no longer needs to struggle or strive. Therefore, as Fukuyama himself emphasized, liberal democracy is not inherently stable.

In Fukuyama’s definition, the end of history means the absence of war and bloody revolution. This definition does not include economic conflicts, such as trade wars. From this perspective, it becomes understandable why he argues that history has ended. However, unlike Fukuyama, I believe that economic wars can also be extremely brutal and should be included when evaluating whether history has truly ended. Therefore, I think it is still too early to claim that some parts of the world have already reached the “end of history.” Even if I were to accept Fukuyama’s definition, I think it is important to emphasize that while history may have a direction, this does not mean it is unidirectional, because it can move forward, backward, or stagnate. I believe this is also what Fukuyama ultimately tried to emphasize in the final part of the book.

Book Reflections: River Town by Peter Hessler

2024-12-28T00:00:00+00:00

Reading this book feels a little like looking at myself in a mirror. At first, it is somewhat humbling because Hessler’s observations about human nature in small Chinese towns feel uncomfortably accurate. For example, the mixture of curiosity and resistance toward foreigners, as well as the silence in response to critiques of history or politics from outsiders, strongly resonate with my own memories from my student days in China. The bowed heads and silent students Hessler describes were once a reflection of me.

I noticed that some readers on Douban, which is often considered the Chinese version of Goodreads, feel that Hessler’s tone can sometimes sound condescending or even offensive. Personally, I disagree. I find his writing restrained, realistic, and remarkably perceptive in capturing the complexities of ordinary Chinese people’s psychology.

If there is a sense of distance in the first part of the book, the second part gradually reveals his growing understanding of, and affection for, the small riverside city where he lived. Beyond portraying the character of small-town residents, Hessler also shares his experiences in Xinjiang and his observations on gender dynamics in China, both of which left a strong impression on me.

I believe every Chinese person should read this book at least once, because it offers an opportunity to see ourselves from a foreigner’s perspective. The ideological education we receive from childhood should not rigidify our thinking, but instead encourage us to face criticism with openness and strive for self-improvement.