Customer Reviews

Candyfreak: A Journey through the Chocolate Underbelly Of America

5 star:		(21)
4 star:		(12)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(8)

 

 

I thought this would be a lighthearted look at the candy industry and to some extent that's what I got. There are some interesting tidbits about the candy industry and the people associated with it, but the overall tone of of the book is kind of dark and mean-spirited. Then as others have observed there are the countless references to the author's personal likes and dislikes. Yes, it is indeed a semi-autobiographical book for adults with four-letter words and drug use which is fine if that's what you're interested in. That's just not what I expected when I bought it. If you can relate to Almond's negative worldview and his extreme left politics then you might enjoy this book, but otherwise you'd be well advised to avoid it.

The first part of Candyfreak is a sort of confectionary manifesto, a summing-up of the author's deep-seated beliefs about candy, and the role of candy in his admittedly complex psyche. We're given a fast-paced tour through Almond's childhood candy memories and his current sugar-consuming patterns, although the narrative is often derailed by tangential, funny rants about unsatisfactory candies ("Boston Baked Beans: If you are an actual peanut, why are you not covered in chocolate? Why are you covered, instead, in some kind of burnt-tasting brick red shell? Is the idea that you resemble a baked bean supposed to make you more alluring?") and glowing reminisces about candy bars that no longer exist. Almond is unjustifiably fond of the word "freak," which in his usage means "obsession" or "addiction," and which he uses to cloying excess throughout the first half of the book. (Annoyingly, he also verbs the noun, saying, for example, "We may not understand why we freak on a particular food".)

The second part of the book is where the action, such as it is, gets going. Almond embarks on a whirlwind interstate tour of a handful of struggling independent confectioners. His primary goal is to gobble free samples, but he is also out to discover what keeps the little guys going in a market dominated by giant conglomerates like Hershey's and Mars. Traveling to the factories where lesser-known treats like Peanut Chews, Valomilk, and Five Star bars are made, Almond sketches brief portraits of the men and women holding the fort (often, they are the fourth or fifth generation of a family business). It turns out, not too surprisingly, that the motivation is a mix of sugary nostalgia and entrepreneurial pluck. But there's a palpable, fatalistic resignation underlying the candymakers' determined cheer: one of the owners admits that he's been discussing the sale of the business, and another sells out to a conglomerate a few months after Almond's visit. The days of handmade candy bars lovingly turned out by small, family-owned businesses are, sadly, over.

Almond wanders off into a tangle of digressions, ranging from his hypochrondriacal self-diagnosis of testicular cancer to a post-9/11 musing on the failures of democracy. The book's cover features a quote comparing Steve Almond to Dave Eggers, which is eerily apt: both Eggers and Almond are thirty-something slackers with food names, who blame their problems as adults on insufficient adoration in childhood.

In the end, this book is a bit like a mismatched jumble of things that are good separately. Almond clearly has passion for his subject, and he's often funny, but his manic, elaborately ironic self-deprecation has the distinctly desperate whiff of someone who's trying too hard. Candyfreak is a pleasure to bite into - maybe not perfect, but I enjoyed it. But try it for yourself. Pick up a copy! Another book I need to recommend -- very much on my mind since I purchased a copy off Amazon is "The Losers' Club: Complete Restored Edition," a funny, highly entertaining little novel I can't stop thinking about.

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.

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

- Gail Cooke

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.

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

- Gail Cooke

I ate a lot of candy as a kid and kind of grew out of it. But I purchased Steve Almonds book just on word of mouth. I've never wanted candy more in my life! The way he writes about candy you can't help but to want to experience it the way he does. He has me searching out candies I've never tried and never heard of. My old rule of not eating anything with a nougat or coconut filling are out the door. Thanks Steve.

I laughed, I drooled, I ran to the pantry for a Reese's Peanut Butter Minature, I thought about Mallo Cups for the first time in ages, I remembered the Halloweens of the '70s, I wished I could have eaten a Caravelle when they still made them. I loved this book, but it got bogged down on his road trip to the local candy companies - I'd never heard of Abba Zabbas, or the Idaho Spud and that made me lose interest at that point.

This is, simply, a passionate, freewheeling, often hilarious account of the candy industry. But the reason to read this book--and yes, you should--is Almond's voice. I'm sure this pun is getting old. But the voice is thicker than caremel: it quickly draws you into the world of Almond's obsessions. And that's where the fun is, the dark confectionary obsessions spiraling in his sentences. You should read this book to lose yourself in that funhouse of thought. I could easily compare this to many other books, but the one that first comes to mind is Nick Hornby's Feverpitch, a fabulous memoir about Hornby's fascination with English football (in Yank-speak, soccer). Before reading Hornby's Feverpitch, I had no real interest in soccer, but while reading it, piggybacking on his prose through Brit football clubs, I definitely cared. And Almond's book does the same for candy. It makes you care about candy; moreover, it makes you care about the stories that pull this book together. I've been suckered into the whole Atkins routine, but man, after reading Candyfreak, I've certainly been eying those four-packs of Reeces Peanut Butter Cups every time I hit up the movie concessions stand for another diet Coke.

I bought this book after hearing Steve Almond read at a local bookstore earlier this month, and have already read it twice. It's hilarious, insightful, and yes folks, it will make you hungry. I highly recommend it.

I was surprised to read some of the previously posted reviews - it appears that most readers either love him or hate him, with the latter being mostly people who were offended by the author's politics. In my opinion, the political stuff wasn't heavy-handed or overdone, and obviously Mr. Almond has a sense of humor about it, since he jokingly admits that his politics are "somewhat to the left of Christ." But the worst book ever written? That's just mean-spirited and not even close to true.

If you ever get nostalgic for the lost candy bars of your youth, if you agree that low carb living is madness, or if you just want to spend a few hours laughing your head off, buy this book.

Bad writing, boring stories, and not enough information on candy makes this book a poor choice for most people. As for the person who said reviewers should have read the book's jacket, it's kind of difficult to do that when you buy off Amazon.

P.S. Here's a hot tip for the author: you can still eat lots of candy and not have bad teeth. There's some new technology on the scene that may help you in that respect, and it's called a "toothbrush." Look into it some time.

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!