Candyfreak

Rating:
Summary: First Published in Small Spiral Notebook
Review:
I figured I would be very interested. Like Steve Almond does in the first pages of his book Candyfreak, I must disclose my current candy count: there is roughly a pound of Ghirardelli Dark squares in my desk drawer, a half-dozen Galak white chocolate squares on my desk, two Kit-Kats, some Starbuck's After Coffee Gum someone gave me, and a half pound of local chocolatier Gardener's chocolate covered pretzels in my fridge. I have very little on hand compared to what Almond says he has regularly, but I still know a kindred spirit when I see one. So, by the time I hit page 4 of Candyfreak, I knew I would love it, just reading Almond's ability to synthesize the experience of a candy bar: " . . . the whipped splendor of the Choco-Lite, whose tiny air pockets provided such a piquant crunch (the oral analogue to stomping on bubble wrap)." The book never lets up from there, reveling in candy, particularly chocolate, in Almond's signature sentences which move like referential dervishes.

In Candyfreak, Almond parlays his own obsession with chocolate into a quest to seek out the sources and practices of today's chocolate confection, as well as to learn about the forces that have overwhelmed the artistry and pluck of individual chocalatiers into the mechanized behemoth of American mass culture. Throughout, Almond tempers his political urgencies with his own disarming awe and glee at the industry and its products, and he also deals with unfolding family tragedies. His grandfather is dying, while at the same time Almond realizes his lifelong zeal for chocolate both saved his life and "broke his spirit." If it sounds like too much to cram in, perhaps you've not read Almond's ambitious book of sort stories, My Life in Heavy Metal, a book that will give you faith in Almond's ability to multi-task, regardless of genre.

Almond's prose packs a sensory wallop at all times. It is also candid, direct, and muscular- he wastes no space. Because of his economy, his writing is akin to the best candy: all good stuff, no fill or the useless air that puffs up the wretched Three Musketeers bar. When he rattles off the names of regional candybars now gone to mass marketers, he says their names are "incantatory poetry." When he says he doesn't like coconut, he says it's like "chewing on a sweetened cuticle." The writing says it: candy, chocolate in particular, for Almond is a passion, a "freak." And like all freaks, Almond has his rage, and the loss of a particular candybar, the Caravelle, and his subsequent despondency and rampage after any sign of it led him to consider the book.

Almond meditates on the sources of his "freak," including its lineage. His father's passion for Junior Mints he sees as a thing to awe: "I loved watching him eat these, patiently, with moist clicks of the tongue. I loved his mouth, the full, pillowy lips, the rakishly crooked teeth-the mouth of a closet sensualist." After some consideration of the roots, however, he's off, interviewing confectioners, visiting factories and tasting candy fresh out of the "enrober" (a device to which he devotes many fine lines), squirreling away samples, and trying to see what did happen to chocolate in America. The short answer is, well, the same thing that happened virtually to every worthwhile thing from beer to sports: mass distribution, mass advertising, mass culture, mass dumbing down.

The short answer doesn't do justice to Almond's work because Candyfreak does what the best creative nonfiction does: reports something in unerring detail, educates about a topic we thought we knew a thing or two about, tells a story both about the author and about the subject, and delivers the whole package in style. Almond's fevered style-known to many from his short stories-here finds a subject about which many folks feel feverish, and the result is one of the most entertaining books I've read in a while.

Almond's tries to balance political fantasy and the reality of the urge: "In my own pathologically romantic sense of things, I viewed [little] companies as throwbacks to a bygone era of candy, when each town had its individual brands. And the good peoples of this country would gather together, in public squares with lots of trees and perhaps a fellow picking a banjo, and they would partake of the particular candy bar produced in their town and feel a surge of sucrose-fueled civic identity. What I really wanted to do was visit these companies-if nay still existed-and to chronicle their struggles for survival in this wicked age of homogeneity, and, not incidentally, to load up on free candy."

While he showcases opinions and can seem hostile at times in his discernment, he is not faddish or uncritical: "The new chocolate specialty products are equally pretentious. I ask you, does the world truly need a bar infused with hot masala? The latest rage, as of this writing, is super-concentrated chocolate, with a cocoa content in the 90 percent range, a trend that will, in due time, allow us to eat Baker's Chocolate at ten bucks a square."

Opinionated, deftly and surprisingly written, thoroughly experienced, and surprisingly moving, Steve Almond's Candyfreak will have you wandering into specialty stores hoping they have candy racks. It will have you looking down your nose at M&Ms, for perhaps the first time in your life. It will have you cruising the Internet for the Five Star Bar, hoping the taste lives up to the writing. It will have you thinking about chocolate for weeks afterward, more than you ever have. And it will have you wanting to return to the book, again and again, to find those sentences, those toothsome, goo-on-your-chin, crunchulicious miracles of sentences, and to wish everyone you know the pleasure of experiencing the world, for a little while anyway, mouth first.


Rating:
Summary: Rich, textured and delicious
Review: Confessions of a candyholic. Steve Almond explores his lifelong love for and obsession with candy as he visits the regional candymakers who are struggling to survive amid the nearly obliterating presence of the big three (Nestle's, Mars, Hershey). Steve brings all of his talents to bear here -- as a reporter, social commentator, and crafter of meticulous sentences that simultaneously deliver humor and brilliant insights. As I read the book, I was sometimes reminded of Tony Horwitz books. Like Horwitz, Steve goes off in search of people who share his obsessions (the Civil War, Capt. Cook in Horwitz's case) and finds a host of interesting characters along the way. As an admirer of Steve's brilliant short-story collection, My Life in Heavy Metal, I was pleasantly surprised to see how well Steve writes about food. He can break down the experience of eating a Charleston Chew, for example, into perfect sensory details without resorting to the pretentious writing of snobbish afficionadoes (a trend he laments with the clever line of "expertise curdling into hauteur"). While reading the book, I went off in search for the Five Star bars which he describes. Unfortunately, the Whole Foods (formerly Bread & Circus) didn't have the Hazelnut he describes in such detail in the book. Now, I'm off to the Web sites Steve offers at the end of the book to get a sample direct from the manufacturer, along with a few others. I can't wait to try to a Twin Bing or Valmomilk. (By the way, jump at any chance you can to have Steve come to your local bookstore for a reading. It's an experience not to be missed.)

Rating:
Summary: HOW SWEET IT WAS!
Review: How can you not like a guy who admits he has to have a piece of candy every day, keeps several pounds of the sugary stuff in his house at all times, and thinks about a sweet every hour? You can't. Many of us may think there but for the grace of God go I. Just as you'll have a fondness for author Almond (could there be a more appropriate name?)you'll also enjoy the reading by Oliver Wyman who by turns voices whimsy, amazement, and incredulity.

For a fellow who like candy as much as Mr. Almond the disappearance of some of his childhood favorites might be tantamount to an art collector losing a Van Gogh. Well, maybe not quite but close. He remembered his adored Choco-Lite, the irresistible Caravelle bar, and others. He wondered what could have happened to them, and so his quest began. He visited candy factories throughout the United States, plying candy makers with questions. Much of what he learned was not too sweet - competition, secret recipes, and pr maneuvering.

As I'm sitting here writing this review I'm sipping a delicious beverage that cannot stop drinking. Absolutely fabulous stuff! Made from roasted soya that you brew like coffee. My doctor said my cholesterol dropped 30 points thanks to this. Look for it online at www.s oycoffee.com. As for the book, it's pure pleasure reading.

Grab yourself a chocolate bar, give a listen, and enjoy.

Rating:
Summary: Scrumptious
Review: I devoured this book. Though perhaps not the best reading material for someone trying to give up junk food, _Candyfreak_ was a delight from start to finish. Almond claims to have eaten candy every day of his life. Anyone who has ever mourned the discontinuation of a favorite candy or associates particular candies with stages of their life will love this book. Plus, Almond helps you discover several new candies. My wife and I held a candy tasting party after reading this book. Delightful!

Rating:
Summary: Honestly funny
Review: If you are a candyfreak, and you know if you are (or were) then there is no question that you should read this book. The first chapters in which Almond recalls in stunning detail his childhood love (freak) for candy brought back waves of my own, very similar candy memories... making a retainer out mouth-molded hard candy (been there... thought I invented it!), obsessively categorizing and prioritizing Halloween hauls (been there -- just to be dumped back in the plastic pumpkin and resorted the next day), etc. The subsequent chapters detailing visits to independent candy makers are informational, very entertaining, and eye-opening. I learned why I haven't tried a Valomilk candy bar even though I grew up less then 10 miles from where it is produced (the "evil" tricks of the big three chocolate companies.) Almond is a great writer that strikes a seriously funny chord by just being honest. Really, really honest.

Rating:
Summary: What is Almond's real Joy?
Review: If you read 98% of candy Freak, you would think that Steve Almond is a true candy lover. The remaining 2% of the book is revealing that Almond can't really focus on anything but his nuts. The book is an enoyable run through the back alleys of the candy business but if Steve had left out all the references to male genitalia, Candyfreak would be a much better book.

Rating:
Summary: Oompa Loompas, Goo Goo Clusters, and Abba-Zabas
Review: Imagine an adult who is just as fascinated by candy as he was when he was eight years old. That is Steve Almond, mid-thirties, English professor, candyfreak.

It's even better being a candyfreak when you are an adult, because you can buy all the candy you want. And you can even eat all the candy you want, if like Almond, you are an ectomorph who never gains weight.

Candyfreak, the book, is a journey through the history of candy in America, and one man's relationship with candy. When Almond is talking about candy -- visiting candy factories, reminiscing about candies past, or discussing the attributes of candy, he is quite good. I enjoyed being reminded of some of my old favorites such as U-No and Kits and Sixlets. But when Almond gets more personal, I tended to skip chunks of the book. This surprised me, because I usually like memoirs and personal essays. I found I just didn't care about Almond's personal quirks or even his politics, although I was in agreement with him.

An index would have been helpful, to look up those specific candy bars you were wondering about. Even if you think you aren't interested in the history of candy bars or in candy trivia, you will find yourself compelled to find out what is in a candy bar called "Chicken Dinner" or "Vegetable Sandwich," or why it's called "Three Musketeers."

Rating:
Summary: Bittersweet
Review: In Chapter 1 of Candy Freak, author Steve Almond introduces himself and explains his candy obsession at some length. And while eating candy may be a self-indulgent amusement, writing generally isn't and Almond's initial approach makes for some slow, taffy-like reading.

By Chapter 2, though, Almond focuses on the real treat - the candy itself. Because the Big Three candy conglomerates of Nestle, Hershey's and Mars denied Almond access to their homogenized, candy-making processes, we instead enter the world of the mom-and-pop outfits whose most important ingredients are tradition, pride, craftsmanship and love. They richly narrate the heart of Almond's story, the passion of candy making, with his back story - the passion of candy eating - providing a welcome and very funny context.

Halfway through the book, those two stories blend into his third story about the business side of candy. Like family-run hardware stores, independent bookstores, local coffee shops, self-publishing and small-town five-and-dimes, the homemade candy business is disappearing, too, crushed by the weight of the global candy companies who wield enormous economies of scale, can pay the outrageous shelf rack fees and control the distribution networks. Almond argues that what also gets lost in this ruthless attention to the bottom line and shareholder value is that candy-making passion, the unique flavors and variety.

There's a fourth storyline lurking in here that local businesses are doomed since by their very nature they aren't designed to outgrow their market yet their niche is being poached by big-footed competitors with deep pockets. That's a different kind of feeding frenzy for another book, although Almond sidetracks his main story and editorializes about the subject, anyway.

Except for Chapter 1 and his sermonizing about big business, this is a good, bittersweet journey through the heart and soul of America as told by a candy freak.


Rating:
Summary: A sugar high!
Review: Like other retail foods such as soda pop and salty snacks, the candy business has undergone profound corporate consolidation in the past 50-100 years, with the hundreds of regional producers that made it interesting now gone. This book is about Steve Almond's first-hand, personal journey into into the world of regional candy. In the process he delves into his own relationship with candy, exploring what it is about candy that resonates with him.

If you're looking for a comprehensive food history like Zuckerman's "The Potato," Coe's "History of Chocolate," or Pendergrast's coffee book, you'll be disappointed, as Almond would be the first to admit. But if you're looking for looking for an extremely entertaining first-person read, you'll find this to be a sugar-high that is hard to put down. And despite shortcomings that the negative reviewers here on Amazon.com have mentioned, you WILL learn a lot about the fascinating and colorful candy industry -- and what we've lost culturally in our striving to keep stockholders happy with never-ending corporate growth.

Almond's humor, enthusiasm, and the lessons he learns about himself on this journey are what makes this book so fabulous. Amazon reviewers who castigate him for being too introspective miss the point that this is a personal story! and may not be familiar or comfortable with this approach -- or must be easily offened by his frankness.

That said, the tendency to be flippant toward his subjects makes me uncomfortable; a lot of his humor comes at someone else's expense. After seeing how some of the interviewees come off in the book, I would not want to be interviewed by Almond. But drug use or the occasional four-letter word? Hey, it's a semi-autobiographical book for adults! C'mon, folks.

Rating:
Summary: Why do authors insist on decieving us?
Review: Listen, this is a fun book, one in which I gladly parted with twenty -three bucks to enjoy, but why -oh- why do authors insist on instilling sneaky little paragraphs in about their political ideals that have nothing to do with the story?

Almond shares his love of candy with the reader so effectively that I, a take-it-or-leave-it kind of candy guy, actually got up from the comfort of a warm fire and sought out some of the gourmet treats he described with a freak vigor. I went to a store that sells imported chocalate and bought a Lindt bar. It was ok. I came back home, sated and looking forward to reading more about CANDY, and picked up where I left off and learned that Almond struggles with his consience about eating a candy bar because of the slave wages the big three candy makers pay to their plantation workers.WHAT! Where did that come from? Sorry, Steve, but I don't buy it. Either put down your Whatchmacallit and go protest something or quit your whining because your attempt to rationalize your freakiness comes up short of logic but screams hypocrisy.

Another chapter has Almond learning the candy trade from a broker who stockpiles hard to find items and resells them at a considerable profit. Fine. A paragraph or two later Almond blindsided me because he thought in "horror" that said broker might actually be a greedy capitalist who- and I can barely get this out- voted for GEORGE W. BUSH, who I bet, just bet, is a black licorice lover!

I treasure my books, and this one had been on my list to read for a while. ButI feel somewhat offended that Almond snuck in his political views, which normally would be ok,( misplaced but ok) but his undisguised disdain for those who opose his politics gets in the way of an otherwise enjoyable read.