Candyfreak : A Journey through the Chocolate Underbelly of America (Harvest 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: 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: Yummiest read you could imagine!
Review: Recently I watched a program on the Food Network that showed how Easter candy is made. There was nothing appetizing about the industrial pipes glurping out brown gunk, cesspool-like vats, and pinched-looking workers in clinical head coverings. And yet Steve Almond describes this same world and it shimmers with exquisite sensual detail. (Does the word "enrober" turn you on? It might after you read Almond's account of luscious sweets being cloaked in chocolate. Industrial? Not on your life.) I delighted in every aspect of this book, from the hilarious delineation of various candy addictions to the affectionate discussions of the confectionary creative process. Wonderfully stimulating to every human sense (including the sense of humor).

Rating:
Summary: witty & sweet.
Review: Review: From Small Spiral Notebook

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: It's not supposed to be a textbook on candy.
Review: Those one-star reviewers put off by Almond's personal asides and political views clearly didn't read the editorial reviews or the jacket flap copy before buying: "Part candy porn [mostly this refers to the sensual descriptions of candy, of course, but it's a pretty good indication that there might be some--gasp!--four letter words and racy humor], part candy polemic [in other words, the author has an opinion about things, and doesn't hide it], part social history [hence the political views, like 'em or not], part confession [personal details, voice, humor -- in other words, the very soul of the book]."

If you're looking for a straight-up, just-the-facts book about candy, clearly this isn't the book for you, nor does Almond intend it to be. If you're looking for vibrant, edgy, witty writing and sharp, sometimes controversial insights, then it is. In other words, if you don't feel like thinking or being challenged a little (ouch! ouch!) don't buy the book!