{"product_id":"congratulations-by-the-way-isbn-9780812996272","title":"Congratulations, by the way","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eNEW YORK TIMES \u003c\/i\u003eBESTSELLER • \u003cb\u003eThis inspiring meditation on kindness from the author of \u003ci\u003eLincoln in the Bardo\u003c\/i\u003e is based on his popular commencement address.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThree months after George Saunders gave a graduation address at Syracuse University, a transcript of that speech was posted on the website of \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times,\u003c\/i\u003e where its simple, uplifting message struck a deep chord. Within days, it had been shared more than one million times. Why? Because Saunders’s words tap into a desire in all of us to lead kinder, more fulfilling lives. Powerful, funny, and wise, \u003ci\u003eCongratulations, by the way\u003c\/i\u003e is an inspiring message from one of today’s most influential and original writers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eCongratulations, by the way\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“As slender as a psalm, and as heavy.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “The graduating college senior in your life probably just wants money. But if you want to impart some heartfelt, plainspoken wisdom in addition to a check, you can't do much better than [\u003ci\u003eCongratulations, by the way\u003c\/i\u003e].”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eEntertainment Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The loving selflessness that [George Saunders] advises and the interconnectedness that he recognizes couldn’t be purer or simpler—or more challenging.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Warm and tender.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“As slender as a psalm, and as heavy.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “The graduating college senior in your life probably just wants money. But if you want to impart some heartfelt, plainspoken wisdom in addition to a check, you can't do much better than [\u003ci\u003eCongratulations, by the way\u003c\/i\u003e].”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eEntertainment Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The loving selflessness that [George Saunders] advises and the interconnectedness that he recognizes couldn’t be purer or simpler—or more challenging.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Warm and tender.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eGeorge Saunders\u003c\/b\u003e is the author of eight books, including the story collections \u003ci\u003ePastoralia \u003c\/i\u003eand\u003ci\u003e Tenth of December, \u003c\/i\u003ewhich was a finalist for the National Book Award. He has received fellowships from the Lannan Foundation, the American Academy of Arts and Letters, and the Guggenheim Foundation. In 2006 he was awarded a MacArthur Fellowship. In 2013 he was awarded the PEN\/Malamud Award for Excellence in the Short Story and was included in \u003ci\u003eTime\u003c\/i\u003e’s list of the one hundred most influential people in the world. He teaches in the creative writing program at Syracuse University.DOWN THROUGH THE AGES, a traditional form has evolved for this type of speech, which is: Some old fart, his best years behind him, who over the course of his life has made a series of dreadful mistakes (that would be me), gives heartfelt advice to a group of shining, energetic young people with all of their best years ahead of them (that would be you).\u003cbr\u003e And I intend to respect that tradition.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Now, one useful thing you can do with old people, in addition to borrowing money from them or getting them to do one of their old-time “dances,” so you can watch while laughing, is ask, “Looking back, what do you regret?” And they’ll tell you. Sometimes, as you know, they’ll tell you even if you haven’t asked. Sometimes, even when you’ve specifically requested that they not tell you, they’ll tell you. So: What do I regret? Being poor from time to time? Not really. Working terrible jobs, like “knuckle-puller in a slaughterhouse”? (And don’t even ask what that entails.) No. I don’t regret that.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Skinny-dipping in a river in Sumatra, a little buzzed, and looking up and seeing like three hundred monkeys sitting on a pipeline, pooping down into the river, the river in which I was swimming, with my mouth open, naked? And getting deathly ill afterward, and staying sick for the next seven months? Honestly, no. Do I regret the occasional humiliation? Like once, playing hockey in front of a big crowd, including this girl I really liked, I somehow managed, while falling and emitting this weird whooping noise, to score on my own goalie, while also sending my stick flying into the crowd, nearly hitting that girl? No. I don’t even regret that.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e But here’s something I do regret:\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e In seventh grade, this new kid joined our class. In the interest of confidentiality, her Convocation Speech name will be “ELLEN.” ELLEN was small, shy. She wore these blue cat’s-eye glasses that, at the time, only old ladies wore. When nervous, which was pretty much always, she had a habit of taking a strand of hair into her mouth and chewing on it.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e So she came to our school and our neighborhood and was mostly ignored, occasionally teased. (“Your hair taste good?”—that sort of thing.) I could see this hurt her. I still remember the way she’d look after such an insult: eyes cast down, a little gut-kicked, as if, having just been reminded of her place in things, she was trying, as much as possible, to disappear. After a while she’d drift away, hair strand still in her mouth. At home, I imagined, after school, her mother would say, you know, “How was your day, sweetie?” and she’d say, “Oh, fine.” And her mother would say, “Making any friends?” and she’d go, “Sure, lots.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Sometimes I’d see her hanging around alone in her front yard, as if afraid to leave it.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e And then—they moved. That was it. No tragedy, no big final hazing.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e One day she was there, next day she wasn’t.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e End of story.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Now, why do I regret that? Why, forty-two years later, am I still thinking about it? Relative to most of the other kids, I was actually pretty nice to her. I never said an unkind word to her. In fact, I sometimes even (mildly) defended her.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e But still. It bothers me.\u003cbr\u003e  ","brand":"Random House","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300905832677,"sku":"NP9780812996272","price":15.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780812996272.jpg?v=1767724048","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/congratulations-by-the-way-isbn-9780812996272","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}