Do You like book Candyfreak: A Journey Through The Chocolate Underbelly Of America (2005)?
From the book, page sixteen:Every now and then, I’ll run into someone who claims not to like chocolate or other sweets, and while we live in a country where everyone has the right to eat what they want, I want to say for the record that I don’t trust these people, that I think something is wrong with them, and that they’re probably-this must be said-total duds in bed.Candyfreak provides way too much candy-metaphor fodder for the weak-hearted reviewer. I don’t know I can resist saying things like “the writing pulses as if Almond (of course, Almond…) were a five year old on a sugar high” or “the vivid descriptions of the nuances of biting into different candy bars sent me running to the candy store” (entirely true, by the way). So I will not resist. I’ll surrender to the flow like a log of caramel on the conveyer belt through the chocolate enrobing machine.This book functions both as tribute to the small businessman and candyfetish pornography. Almond’s travels lead him through the factories of one-building companies struggling to survive in the shadow of the candy world’s “big three” (Nestle, Hershey, Mars). He chronicles a fading world of beautiful machines churning out regional candy bars that maybe, just maybe, you’ll find on the less desirable candy rack real estate (if you’re lucky) but not in mainstream locations or near eye-level because the company owners can’t shell out the tens of thousands of dollars necessary to place their products in the big stores. The spirit of invention lives in these factory owners as well; when they talk about product development they sound insane, honestly, in the best way possible, as if they can taste the new candy before they produce the first sample.Almond stumbles a little when he stereotypes small town living (sir, I defy you to get on a Greyhound bus anywhere, even in your precious Boston, and find anything different than you describe. It’s not like the Bostonians on Greyhound are wearing cardigans and reading Kant.) and he slips into “I’m a successful author but pity my pathetic personal life” territory more often than he should. Still, reading Candyfreak is flat-out fun, the kind of experience that raises your pulse a little when you pick up the book, like you’re about to do something you want to do after a long day of the opposite. Almond’s descriptive powers and childlike passion carry the day. And candy bars that look like potatoes sound cool. I want one right now.Epilogue: I would say I’d read more Almond, but I realized after I read Candyfreak that I had once picked up his Not That You Asked at the library and put it back after reading the first few pages. So, in full disclosure, the jury’s still out on Almond the author, but Candyfreak (pop) rocks.
—RandomAnthony
From a blog post in 2005:What a fun and interesting read! The full title is Candyfreak - A Journey Through The Chocolate Underbelly of America by Steve Almond The author is a self-avowed candy addict and traces his addiction back to a childhood need for affection. His anecdotes about his childhood candy habits (hording, sorting and classifying candy as well as his Halloween strategy) and bonding with his Father (The Enabler) via candy bars are hilarious, touching and sometimes a bit sad. The main focus of the book, however, is on the small candy producers who are being pushed out by Hershey, Mars and Nestle. He visited several companies who only sell regionally because of the huge cost of national distribution. Some chains require a candy company to pay $20,000 per store in slotting fees (a charge to place the product in the store) and the firms he visited can't afford it. Even local placement is going by the wayside as Wal-Mart pushes out the little grocery stores across America. Here's a partial list of the candy bars he saw made: Valomilk, Idaho Spud, Goo Goo Cluster, Old Faithful, Twin Bing, Peanut Chews and Five Star Bars. I've never heard of any of them but it sounds like they may be found at your nearby Cracker Barrel. I'll have to look next time I'm at one. Almond's style is humorously self-deprecating - sort of a kindler, gentler version of David Sedaris (without the gay overtones). He seamlessly mixes personal anecdotes with interesting historical material and his descriptions of the candy making process border on poetry. I only wish I could be half as descriptive! For more on Almond, see his website: www.stevenalmond.com.
—Kathy
I read this one forever ago, so I don't remember it very well right now. The three things I remember most: 1. It was hilarious. 2. I couldn't recommend it to anyone because of some super inappropriate sexual content (I don't actually even remember much of what it was anymore; I just remember thinking it was a shame I couldn't recommend it).3. His intense description of Five Star Bars (by Lake Champlain Chocolates) was sooo delicious that I had to buy some for myself (they were, indeed, quite yummy--but probably not quite worth the shipping we paid to get them to us, except just for fun to try them). (I would keep buying them occasionally if they were sold near me.)The author's descriptions of candy, and just his intriguing look into the world of candy-making, was quite fun. I would have given it 4 stars if not for the inability to suggest it as a read.Here's a brief excerpt that made me laugh:"To me, Twizzlers belongs to the same loathsome genus as the Jujubes. The young and fortunate reader may not have heard of Jujubes, and this candy will be hard to describe in a fashion that makes it sounds suitable for human consumption. They were basically hard pellets the size and shape of pencil erasers. Indeed, if one were to set Jujubes beside pencil erasers in a blind taste test, it would be tough to make a distinction, except that pencil erasers have more natural fruit flavor.These are two examples of candies I refer to as MWMs (Mistakes Were Made). Others would include:Marshmallow Peeps: A candy that encourages the notion that it is acceptable to eat child offspring. ...Boston Baked Beans: If you are an actual peanut, why are you not covered in chocolate? Why are you covered, instead, in some ind of burnt-tasting brick red shell? ...Chuckles: A fruit jelly the consistency of cartilage. Explain.Sixlets: Those of us over the age of, say, three can usually differentiate between chocolate and brown wax.White jelly beans: I defy you to tell me what flavor white is supposed to signify. Pineapple? Coconut? Isopropyl? ...Coconut: ... Oddly, it isn't the flavor of coconut that troubles me, but the texture. ... In short, I feel as if I'm chewing on a sweetened cuticle." (p. 35-36)Anyway, funny, intriguing, but occasionally rather inappropriate.
—Jeanna