Book Review: "Candyfreak: A journey Through The Chocolate Underbelly of America" By: Steve Almond

Author Steve Almond really has a thing for candy. Not just the kind of thing where he blows 65 cents in the vending machine everyday. No, Steve Almond is a self professed freak when it comes to his sweets. He’s an obsessive hoarder. The kind of guy who buys a nuclear attack level stockpile of Kit-Kat Darks right before they got pulled from market. He takes a rare pleasure in experiencing new, unique candy, and feels a wrenching loss at the discontinued candies of the past. Almond’s sorta-memoir Candyfreak: A Journey Through The Chocolate Underbellt of America is his attempt to explain his candy compulsion while taking a sweet journey through small regional candy factories. Unfortunately the journey proves to be a fun read while the grafted on navel gazing feels undercooked.

The book is at its strongest as it delves into the history of the candy bar, and explores unique regional treats. Almond has a soft spot for the little guy, and for good reason. Smaller candy companies are at an increased disadvantage to the big three of Hershey, Nestle, and Mars. Few smaller companies can afford to pay the exorbitant slotting fees to get their product onto the shelves of the major chains. You know that impulse rack by every register? Companies pay top dollar to give their bars prime real estate. The better part of the book reads as an apologetic for smaller companies. Almond tours factories across the country, encountering such unique candy bars as the Twin Bing out of Omaha’s Palmer Chocolates, Southern favorite Goo-Goo Cluster, and the Idaho Spud (guess where that one’s from). These tours are fun. Almond pulls no punches as he lovingly describes molten chocolate enrobing various candy bars in near pornographic detail.

Unfortunately, Almond seems driven to make this more than a simple, fun survey of regional candy manufacturing and the harsh economic environment they encounter. No, Almond feels a need to make this a deeply personal journey. You see Almond doesn’t love candy because it's, you know, really freaking delicious. No, in Almond’s world his slavish devotion to candy is a manifestation of an unloving childhood. You see candy was the only thing he and his emotionally distant father ever bonded over. How does the reader know his father was emotionally distant? Because the author bangs the reader over the head with the information repeatedly. However, Almond never gives any real detail to flesh out his feelings toward his family. The only antidotes he shares seem fairly benign or sweetly nostalgic. Almond also weaves his personal reactions to the Bush presidency, his current personal life, and a false health scare into the narrative. However, he fails to connect the dots and make the reader understand what any of this has to do with candy. Almond mainly comes off as a whiny, petulant jerk. The reader is half tempted to grab him by the lapels and scream: “Enough with the group therapy talk. Tell me about Abba-Zabas already.”

In the end, Candyfreak offers a fun and informative look at a candy culture few people take the time to notice. There’s a certain thrill in hearing Almond rattle off lists of long gone almost forgotten candy bars, and a second-hand sugar high from descriptions of eating candy rendered in sensual detail. But when the author tries to graft a half-hearted memoir onto the proceedings, he bites off more than he can chew.

Shalom