Status
Available
Call number
Publication
Mariner Books (2005), Edition: Reprint, Paperback, 288 pages
Description
Nonfiction. Humor (Nonfiction.) HTML: Perhaps you remember the whipped splendor of the Choco-Lite, or the luscious Caravelle bar, or maybe the sublime and perfectly balanced Hershey's Cookies 'n Mint. The Marathon, an inimitable rope of caramel covered in chocolate. Oompahs. Bit-O-Choc. The Kit Kat Dark. Steve Almond certainly does. In fact, he was so obsessed by the inexplicable disappearance of these bars�where'd they go?�that he embarked on a nationwide journey to uncover the truth about the candy business. There, he found an industry ruled by huge conglomerates, where the little guys, the last remaining link to the glorious boom years of the candy bar in America, struggle to survive. Visiting the candy factories that produce the Twin Bing, the Idaho Spud, the Goo Goo Cluster, the Valomilk, and a dozen other quirky bars, Almond finds that the world of candy is no longer a sweet haven. Today's precious few regional candy makers mount daily battles against corporate greed, paranoia, and that good old American compulsion: crushing the little guy. Part candy porn, part candy polemic, part social history, part confession, Candyfreak explores the role candy plays in our lives as both source of pleasure and escape from pain. By turns ecstatic, comic, and bittersweet, Candyfreak is the story of how Steve Almond grew up on candy�and how, for better and worse, candy has grown up, too..… (more)
User reviews
LibraryThing member melissagridley
If Steve Almond is a candyfreak, then I'm a candywhore. I'll take it where I can get it and I'm not half as discriminating about its origins.
That said, you can't help but laugh outright at the sugar-fanaticism of a man who gets faint with joy witnessing the birth of chocolate bunnies and is
Goaded by the disappearance of his adored Caravelle bar, Almond (yes, he talks about the name) tours independent candy companies (read: anyone other than Mars, Nestle, or Hershey) to, "chronicle their struggles for survival in this wicked age of homogeneity, and, not incidentally, to load up on free candy."
The best laughs are all in the first five chapters. I giggled, chuckled and guffawed my way through the author’s confessions of freak-like candy-hoarding, reveling in the kind of sweet self-effacing wit only a candy junkie could muster.
From there, it’s mostly an historical tour of the four candy companies he visited, fascinating and richly detailed, yet interspersed with progressively more disturbing moments of personal crisis. At one point the author himself notes, “I realize that I am oversharing,�Â? a phrase that, in a work of humor especially, should be immediately followed by the words, âÂÂso IâÂÂll quit while IâÂÂm ahead.âÂ? No such luck. From that point on, we are treated to sad reflections on how one may ineffectively attempt to use candy to fill the void created by emotionally unavailable parents, an alarming, overly personal description of penile hypochondria, and finally, how Dubya, terrorists, college hockey players, and Reaganomics are to blame for everything from airport security to the author's inability to give up pot and find love. I found the experience much like seeing a houseguest naked -- you don't know whether to avert your eyes and mumble an apology or pretend it's hilarious and hope he laughs along.
The erratic emotional pitch of the book can be summed up by AlmondâÂÂs description of a candy-orgy during a San Francisco layover; âÂÂA brief jolt of good humorâ¦followed by a plunge into hypoglycemic grumpiness.âÂ? If this book were a candy bar, it would start with a light, crispy, sweetness, get sort of sticky and tasteless in the middle, and end heavily with an artificial, saccharine jolt, leaving the reader with a nasty aftertaste and the vague notion that he should have quit after the first bite.
Perhaps if Almond has just stuck to candy, the last biteâ¦er, page would have been as good as the first.
[A word or two of warning: don't open this book in the middle of the night when there's no chocolate in the house and the nearest all-night drugstore is more than an hour's drive away. Because while Almond is funny, irreverent and occasionally morose, he's also sadistically sensual in describing his lifelong torrid affair with chocolate. Consuming this book without at least a bag of M & Ms on hand would not be advised.]
That said, you can't help but laugh outright at the sugar-fanaticism of a man who gets faint with joy witnessing the birth of chocolate bunnies and is
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rendered speechless at the thoughtless waste of even one piece of chocolate, recalling, "I stood there in a cloud of disillusionment...I'm someone who has been known to eat the pieces of candy found underneath my couch."Goaded by the disappearance of his adored Caravelle bar, Almond (yes, he talks about the name) tours independent candy companies (read: anyone other than Mars, Nestle, or Hershey) to, "chronicle their struggles for survival in this wicked age of homogeneity, and, not incidentally, to load up on free candy."
The best laughs are all in the first five chapters. I giggled, chuckled and guffawed my way through the author’s confessions of freak-like candy-hoarding, reveling in the kind of sweet self-effacing wit only a candy junkie could muster.
From there, it’s mostly an historical tour of the four candy companies he visited, fascinating and richly detailed, yet interspersed with progressively more disturbing moments of personal crisis. At one point the author himself notes, “I realize that I am oversharing,�Â? a phrase that, in a work of humor especially, should be immediately followed by the words, âÂÂso IâÂÂll quit while IâÂÂm ahead.âÂ? No such luck. From that point on, we are treated to sad reflections on how one may ineffectively attempt to use candy to fill the void created by emotionally unavailable parents, an alarming, overly personal description of penile hypochondria, and finally, how Dubya, terrorists, college hockey players, and Reaganomics are to blame for everything from airport security to the author's inability to give up pot and find love. I found the experience much like seeing a houseguest naked -- you don't know whether to avert your eyes and mumble an apology or pretend it's hilarious and hope he laughs along.
The erratic emotional pitch of the book can be summed up by AlmondâÂÂs description of a candy-orgy during a San Francisco layover; âÂÂA brief jolt of good humorâ¦followed by a plunge into hypoglycemic grumpiness.âÂ? If this book were a candy bar, it would start with a light, crispy, sweetness, get sort of sticky and tasteless in the middle, and end heavily with an artificial, saccharine jolt, leaving the reader with a nasty aftertaste and the vague notion that he should have quit after the first bite.
Perhaps if Almond has just stuck to candy, the last biteâ¦er, page would have been as good as the first.
[A word or two of warning: don't open this book in the middle of the night when there's no chocolate in the house and the nearest all-night drugstore is more than an hour's drive away. Because while Almond is funny, irreverent and occasionally morose, he's also sadistically sensual in describing his lifelong torrid affair with chocolate. Consuming this book without at least a bag of M & Ms on hand would not be advised.]
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LibraryThing member brendajanefrank
Caution: This book resulted in a several pound gain caused by a Twin Bings, a few Idaho Spuds, and a box of Old Faithfuls (wonderful!). All in all, a very expensive and hazardous book!
LibraryThing member davidabrams
Steve Almond opens his new book Candyfreak: a Journey Through the Chocolate Underbelly of America with a section called "Some Things You Should Know About the Author." Item #1: The author has eaten a piece of candy every single day of his entire life. He then asks us to say a little prayer on
In truth, it's our teeth we should be worried about because, if you're anything like me (and if you aren't, then why the hell not?), after reading Candyfreak, you'll go out and binge-gorge on chocolate bars. And not just any candy bars, mind you—the candy that's lovingly produced in small factories like Marty Palmer's in Sioux City, Iowa where conveyor belts carry a daily parade of Twin Bings ("Imagine, if you will, two brown lumps, about the size of golf balls, roughly textured, and stuck to one another like Siamese twins. The lumps are composed of crushed peanuts and a chocolate compound. Inside each of the lumps is a bright pink, cherry-flavored filling.").
Even before turning the last page of Almond's mouth-watering love letter to American candy, I was at the local Gas-n-Go snatching crinkly-wrapped bars off the racks. Unfortunately, all my local store had to offer were the bland products of the Big Three chocolate companies—Nestle, Hershey's and Mars—and I had to satisfy my craving with boring brown planks of chocolate-nuts-nougat like Snickers, Baby Ruth and Milky Way. I was sorely disappointed in the mild, crumbling chocolate, the mealy, deflated crisped rice and the varnish-colored caramel (to paraphrase Almond).
What I really wanted was an Idaho Spud.
Those of you who didn't grow up in the immediate neighborhood of the "Famous Potatoes" State probably haven't heard of the Idaho Spud. Your loss. And I weep for you.
I live in Alaska now, miles and years from my childhood home in Wyoming, but I can still taste the Spud on my tongue. Shaped like a Twinkie, it's a chocolate-and-coconut-covered lump made of marshmallow filling flavored with maple, vanilla and dried cocoa. Until I read Almond's book, I hadn't realized that the ingredients also included ager ager, a seaweed derivative. That's not enough to dampen my lust for Spud and reading about Almond's trip through the Boise candy plant made me teary-eyed with nostalgia for the days as a teenager when I'd smuggle Idaho Spuds into my bedroom, carefully, quietly tearing open the brown wrappers so as not to trigger parental radar. Then I'd sprawl across my bed, sink my teeth into the slightly-firm chocolate shell and feel something akin to a prepubescent orgasm when that spongy marshmallow-maple-vanilla-cocoa-seaweed filling slid through my mouth. I'd read my Hardy Boys books or think about all the wonderful things I'd do with Tracey Albrecht if by some freak miracle I ever got her alone in my bedroom, savoring with masturbatory pleasure those bites of Spud which were always gone too soon. Then I'd carefully brush the flaky crumbs of coconut from the front of my shirt onto the floor where I ground them into the carpet with my shoe in the vain hope that my parents wouldn't notice the detritus of my pleasure. So, yes, Spuds filled my veins for many years, as did the sugar of Charleston Chews, BB-Bats, Big Hunks, Wacky Wafers, Cup of Golds, and Mallo Cups.
I mention this because we all have stories about candy that was an intimate staple of our youth. Reading Candyfreak is bound to bring those memories to the surface. Indeed, the book came about because of Almond's own longing for candy which seems to have inexplicably disappeared from stores over the years.
Oh where are you now, you brave stupid bars of yore? Where Oompahs, those delectable doomed pods of chocolate and peanut butter? Where the molar-ripping Bit-O-Choc? And where Caravelle, a bar so dear to my heart that I remain, two decades after its extinction, in an active state of mourning?
Candyfreak is the funniest, most endearing book I've read in a long time. Almond, whose previous book was the short-story collection My Life in Heavy Metal, is spot-on in his evocative descriptions of not only the Candy of Our Youth, but in the way we lived back in the 70s. He rhapsodizes about how candy triggers nostalgic secretions in our brains then goes on to describe how he burned heads off Gummy Bears in his ninth-grade science class ("I loved the way the little gummy bear heads would sizzle and smoke, and the syrupy consistency of the resulting mess."). He talks about Halloween with the kind of reverence some folks reserve for Christmas ("There's something incredibly liberating about a holiday that encourages children to take candy from strangers.").
This is candy porn for the undiscriminating palate. Speaking of palates, did anyone else besides Almond and me suck on Jolly Rancher Stix until they softened and you could mold them with your tongue to the roof of your mouth in retainer-like fashion? ("At a certain point, this habit morphed into an ardent belief that I could use candy to straighten my teeth," he writes.)
This is just one of many moments of personal connection I felt while reading Candyfreak. I should add that I don't always agree with his opinion of certain candies. He has unkind words for marshmallow Peeps and coconut. But I immediately forgive him when he also trashes 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 sound 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.
In these pages, we learn that Oliver R. Chase invented the lozenge cutter which began producing Necco wafers in 1847—later a staple of Union soldiers in the Civil War; that there was once—briefly—a pineapple-flavored Mars bar; and that people used to buy something called the Vegetable Sandwich (dehydrated vegetables covered in chocolate).
We also learn about "slotting fees," the book's most unforgettable villain. Some of the nation's larger retail chains and supermarkets charge tens of thousands of dollars to stock a particular candy bar in the racks near the register, squeezing out the smaller companies who cannot possibly compete with the big-budget Big Three. Slotting fees are partly responsible for the extinction of the beloved Candy of Our Youth.
Almond's fascination with candy initially leads him to send letters to manufacturers asking for factory tours. When he's rebuffed by the big mega-corporations—who, as it turns out, are paranoid about industry spies stealing recipes and techniques—Almond turns to the little guys, the barely-struggling companies spread across the nation. The account of his journey through the sweet, chewy center of America is fresh, funny and, at times, heartbreaking as we witness the hanging-by-a-fingernail survival of these small, independent candy companies. Most of them can't afford the slotting fees to be placed on the checkout-stand impulse racks at Wal-Mart, chain supermarkets, or even the grocery stores in their own home town. So, even though Almond writes rapturously about velvety chocolate commingling with satiny marshmallow filling, we're left with the taste of bittersweet chocolate on the tongue. When it comes down to it, the book's really about the David and Goliath battles being fought every day in the candy industry. One factory's aging machinery is literally patched together with Band-aids and duct tape.
As Almond says in the closing pages of Candyfreak: "In the end, the laws of the candy world were the laws of the broader world: the strong survived, the weak struggled, people sought pleasure to endure their pain." Almond does a marvelous job of turning a candy memoir into a broader statement on cutthroat economics which threaten to homogenize society, turning it into one big, bland nougat. Candyfreak will make you laugh, cheer and cry—but mostly it will make you hungry.
Now if you'll excuse me, I must go inject some marshmallow filling directly into my veins.
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behalf of his molars. In truth, it's our teeth we should be worried about because, if you're anything like me (and if you aren't, then why the hell not?), after reading Candyfreak, you'll go out and binge-gorge on chocolate bars. And not just any candy bars, mind you—the candy that's lovingly produced in small factories like Marty Palmer's in Sioux City, Iowa where conveyor belts carry a daily parade of Twin Bings ("Imagine, if you will, two brown lumps, about the size of golf balls, roughly textured, and stuck to one another like Siamese twins. The lumps are composed of crushed peanuts and a chocolate compound. Inside each of the lumps is a bright pink, cherry-flavored filling.").
Even before turning the last page of Almond's mouth-watering love letter to American candy, I was at the local Gas-n-Go snatching crinkly-wrapped bars off the racks. Unfortunately, all my local store had to offer were the bland products of the Big Three chocolate companies—Nestle, Hershey's and Mars—and I had to satisfy my craving with boring brown planks of chocolate-nuts-nougat like Snickers, Baby Ruth and Milky Way. I was sorely disappointed in the mild, crumbling chocolate, the mealy, deflated crisped rice and the varnish-colored caramel (to paraphrase Almond).
What I really wanted was an Idaho Spud.
Those of you who didn't grow up in the immediate neighborhood of the "Famous Potatoes" State probably haven't heard of the Idaho Spud. Your loss. And I weep for you.
I live in Alaska now, miles and years from my childhood home in Wyoming, but I can still taste the Spud on my tongue. Shaped like a Twinkie, it's a chocolate-and-coconut-covered lump made of marshmallow filling flavored with maple, vanilla and dried cocoa. Until I read Almond's book, I hadn't realized that the ingredients also included ager ager, a seaweed derivative. That's not enough to dampen my lust for Spud and reading about Almond's trip through the Boise candy plant made me teary-eyed with nostalgia for the days as a teenager when I'd smuggle Idaho Spuds into my bedroom, carefully, quietly tearing open the brown wrappers so as not to trigger parental radar. Then I'd sprawl across my bed, sink my teeth into the slightly-firm chocolate shell and feel something akin to a prepubescent orgasm when that spongy marshmallow-maple-vanilla-cocoa-seaweed filling slid through my mouth. I'd read my Hardy Boys books or think about all the wonderful things I'd do with Tracey Albrecht if by some freak miracle I ever got her alone in my bedroom, savoring with masturbatory pleasure those bites of Spud which were always gone too soon. Then I'd carefully brush the flaky crumbs of coconut from the front of my shirt onto the floor where I ground them into the carpet with my shoe in the vain hope that my parents wouldn't notice the detritus of my pleasure. So, yes, Spuds filled my veins for many years, as did the sugar of Charleston Chews, BB-Bats, Big Hunks, Wacky Wafers, Cup of Golds, and Mallo Cups.
I mention this because we all have stories about candy that was an intimate staple of our youth. Reading Candyfreak is bound to bring those memories to the surface. Indeed, the book came about because of Almond's own longing for candy which seems to have inexplicably disappeared from stores over the years.
Oh where are you now, you brave stupid bars of yore? Where Oompahs, those delectable doomed pods of chocolate and peanut butter? Where the molar-ripping Bit-O-Choc? And where Caravelle, a bar so dear to my heart that I remain, two decades after its extinction, in an active state of mourning?
Candyfreak is the funniest, most endearing book I've read in a long time. Almond, whose previous book was the short-story collection My Life in Heavy Metal, is spot-on in his evocative descriptions of not only the Candy of Our Youth, but in the way we lived back in the 70s. He rhapsodizes about how candy triggers nostalgic secretions in our brains then goes on to describe how he burned heads off Gummy Bears in his ninth-grade science class ("I loved the way the little gummy bear heads would sizzle and smoke, and the syrupy consistency of the resulting mess."). He talks about Halloween with the kind of reverence some folks reserve for Christmas ("There's something incredibly liberating about a holiday that encourages children to take candy from strangers.").
This is candy porn for the undiscriminating palate. Speaking of palates, did anyone else besides Almond and me suck on Jolly Rancher Stix until they softened and you could mold them with your tongue to the roof of your mouth in retainer-like fashion? ("At a certain point, this habit morphed into an ardent belief that I could use candy to straighten my teeth," he writes.)
This is just one of many moments of personal connection I felt while reading Candyfreak. I should add that I don't always agree with his opinion of certain candies. He has unkind words for marshmallow Peeps and coconut. But I immediately forgive him when he also trashes 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 sound 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.
In these pages, we learn that Oliver R. Chase invented the lozenge cutter which began producing Necco wafers in 1847—later a staple of Union soldiers in the Civil War; that there was once—briefly—a pineapple-flavored Mars bar; and that people used to buy something called the Vegetable Sandwich (dehydrated vegetables covered in chocolate).
We also learn about "slotting fees," the book's most unforgettable villain. Some of the nation's larger retail chains and supermarkets charge tens of thousands of dollars to stock a particular candy bar in the racks near the register, squeezing out the smaller companies who cannot possibly compete with the big-budget Big Three. Slotting fees are partly responsible for the extinction of the beloved Candy of Our Youth.
Almond's fascination with candy initially leads him to send letters to manufacturers asking for factory tours. When he's rebuffed by the big mega-corporations—who, as it turns out, are paranoid about industry spies stealing recipes and techniques—Almond turns to the little guys, the barely-struggling companies spread across the nation. The account of his journey through the sweet, chewy center of America is fresh, funny and, at times, heartbreaking as we witness the hanging-by-a-fingernail survival of these small, independent candy companies. Most of them can't afford the slotting fees to be placed on the checkout-stand impulse racks at Wal-Mart, chain supermarkets, or even the grocery stores in their own home town. So, even though Almond writes rapturously about velvety chocolate commingling with satiny marshmallow filling, we're left with the taste of bittersweet chocolate on the tongue. When it comes down to it, the book's really about the David and Goliath battles being fought every day in the candy industry. One factory's aging machinery is literally patched together with Band-aids and duct tape.
As Almond says in the closing pages of Candyfreak: "In the end, the laws of the candy world were the laws of the broader world: the strong survived, the weak struggled, people sought pleasure to endure their pain." Almond does a marvelous job of turning a candy memoir into a broader statement on cutthroat economics which threaten to homogenize society, turning it into one big, bland nougat. Candyfreak will make you laugh, cheer and cry—but mostly it will make you hungry.
Now if you'll excuse me, I must go inject some marshmallow filling directly into my veins.
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LibraryThing member NielsenGW
Every person in America has something they freak about. For some it's model airplanes; for others it's war re-enactment. Steve Almond's freak focus is candy, and he succeeds at getting the reader just as hyped about it as he is. He professes to have eaten a piece of candy every single day of his
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life--and he can recall the subtle flavors, textures, and emotions associated with each one. Almond goes around the country, visiting local candy makers, and reveling in both the stories and the free samples that he given by the owners and candy makers he visits. At times, he displays a childish giddiness about his factory visits, but he does manage to parlay his adventures into an outlook on both his past and our future. An excellent read. Show Less
LibraryThing member annief
Characters: The stars of this book are the Twin Bing, the Idaho Spud, the Goo Goo cluster, the Valomilk, the Kit Kat Dark, the Caravelle bar, the Abba Zabba, the Peanut Chew, the Haviland Thin Mint, Chocolites, Ooompahs, Marathons, etc.
Plot : When I read the first paragraph of the Prologue of this
Plot : When I read the first paragraph of the Prologue of this
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book, I knew I was home. Under “Some things you should know about the author,” Almond has listed first, “The author has eaten a piece of candy every single day of his entire life.” While I cannot make that claim, I can say with certainty that I have wanted to eat a piece of candy every single day of my life. From that self-revelatory beginning, Almond turns to such topics as candy as a replacement for love—a no-brainer; candy as a treatment for depression—another no-brainer; candy as the essence of living in the Now—a stretch, but I like it; candy as a reflection of the entrepreneurial spirit of America; candy as family; candy as the embodiment of the innocence of childhood; candy as All. Hey, he’s a candy freak! He treks through the United States, visiting the endangered species of candy manufacturing—the regional candy makers, i.e. not Mars, Nestle, or Hershey. These candy factories are rapidly disappearing because they cannot compete with the conglomerates. An astounding fact which many of you may know but I did not, and which still strikes me as just plain wrong, is that grocery stores charge food manufacturers “slotting fees”, i.e. fees to shelve their products. For candy, it’s about $20,000 a year. So grocery stores are paid from both ends—manufacturers pay to get their products in the store and then customers pay to take their products out of the store. Most regional candy makers cannot afford the slotting fee and that is why our candy aisles are dominated by the big three candy companies. This is a hugely entertaining book. Listening to Almond expound on the virtues of a particularly candy bar is like listening to a wine connoisseur talk about wine, only funnier. Show Less
LibraryThing member 1PLCMCLibrarian
Attention, those of you with a sweettooth: check out Candyfreak. Almond, a self-described candyfreak, writes an entertaining part memoir/part tour guide of small, American candy factories. You’ll root for the little guys in their battle against candy giants. You’ll remember the solace that
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chocolate has provided to you. And you’ll undoubtably want to taste-test some GooGoo Clusters and Valomilks. Show Less
LibraryThing member Grumpus
This book changed my world view significantly. I always thought of candy as a thing you munched on but the predatory nature of the BIG THREE killing or buying all the little guys is a shame. I can only hope "Micro-confectioners" will rise again! I was really moved by the author and the story.
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CAused me to read the rest of his writing which is as good as anything in Candy Freak. Show Less
LibraryThing member gwendolyndawson
Entertaining trek through the candy world. Playful and lighthearted. Comic.
LibraryThing member ClydePark
An interesting story built around the author's life long obsession with candy. There are some good human interest stories featuring the owners of the small candy companies that Almond visits and there are quite a few humorous moments in his experiences with these people.
However, the descriptions of
Not a bad book, but it is a little uneven.
However, the descriptions of
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the manufacturing process of each candy are tedious and tend to drag the flow of the book down. Not a bad book, but it is a little uneven.
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LibraryThing member Jebbie74
Made me want to take a trip around Canada looking for the same candy explorations that Almond did. Better yet, trip around Great Britain!
LibraryThing member ZreadingZ
This book is a little gem. And I don't think I want to meet the author.
LibraryThing member ethanr
A candy junkie goes on a quest to find the snacks of his childhood. My close connection to his addiction helped me love this book, but the reporting was lazy (should have been more about evil Big Chocolate) and the memoir was too thin to carry the book.
LibraryThing member CarolynSchroeder
This book was a lot of fun, mostly for the interesting history and nostalgia of various candies. The author's self-depreciating (and sophmoric) humor was kind of funny at first, but near the end it got to me. I felt like saying, c'mon, get to the part about the candy. Ultimately, he always did. His
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love for candy burns brightly and it's a joy to read about a subject wherein someone has so much passion. The author's junket to four "little guy" candy producers is great and the pride in their creations was awesome. I also thought the information on marketing was very interesting, and really quite sad. I sure felt like an American consumer lemming. You won't look at candy shelving, marketing, production etc. ever quite the same way again. When I put the book down, I immediately spread the word on some of the smaller candy/chocolate makers who use quality ingredients and really care about both the producers of the ingredients, their workers and the ultimate candy consumer. I recommend this highly if you have any interest in candy (and its production) and don't mind a bit of crude humor. Show Less
LibraryThing member Lexicographer
A delectable look at sweets. Interesting facts and a very conversational, engaging writing style.
LibraryThing member librarist
This little book is guaranteed to bring out the candyfreak in anyone who has ever wondered whatever happened to their favorite childhood confection. However much you have thought about it since the age of 10, Steve Almond (who must surely have won an award for "name best suited to book title" by
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now) has most assuredly thought about it more. And if you want to spend some more time thinking about it, the author has established a web site for exchanging your innermost thoughts on the subject. Great fun and (surprisingly) an education in candy manufacture as well. Show Less
LibraryThing member dvf1976
I read this book while I drove with Erin and my in-laws to Memphis.
It was a pretty fun book.
I tried eating some candy while reading but it gave me a stomach-ache.
Things I liked from this book:
* the term 'Radioactive Cute'
* The fascination the author had with the candy manufacturers
Things that could
* The author's breezy style was good, but there were parts where it seemed out of place.
It was a pretty fun book.
I tried eating some candy while reading but it gave me a stomach-ache.
Things I liked from this book:
* the term 'Radioactive Cute'
* The fascination the author had with the candy manufacturers
Things that could
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have been better:* The author's breezy style was good, but there were parts where it seemed out of place.
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LibraryThing member ConnieJo
I was totally taken off guard with how funny this book was. I went to read the introduction one day and found myself 30 pages into the book in no time at all. What I expected to be a somewhat dry documentary of the history of candy turned out to be a hilarious personal account of a lifetime spent
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worshipping candy of all types. I was dying at his various interludes such as "mistakes were made," candy so terrible nobody should ever eat it. After the opening section that documents his interest in sweets, most of the rest of the book is spent with the author taking trips from factory to factory, recording a diverse number of candies and their manufacturing process. I pestered my friends and family for months with anecdotes after reading it. Show Less
LibraryThing member sonyagreen
As I began reading this, I was compelled to shovel down handfuls of Runts. Halfway through, I stopped to go to the store and buy a couple of candy bars. You know, for tasting.
After finishing, I've decided that I'm going to start a podcast, discussing the differences between various candy bars. The
After finishing, I've decided that I'm going to start a podcast, discussing the differences between various candy bars. The
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theme song will be "Candy Bars", by Grand Buffet. Jason will be my cohost. Show Less
LibraryThing member dudara
Steve Almond is a guy who loves candy. And he also happens to be a writer. So why not put the two together and write a book that explores his obsession with candy as well as visiting small local candy factories throughout the USA.
Being Irish, I didn't recognise a lot of the candy bars mentioned in
As part of his research, Almond arranged to visit several small regional manufacturers throughout the states, including Philadelphia (Peanut Chews), Sioux City (Twin Bing), Nashville (Goo Goo Cluster), and Boise (Idaho Spud). The character portraits drawn of the factory owners and employees are endearing, but the author's fascination with the machinery used to create candy and his obsessional thieving fresh bars from the production line when not being watched are hilarious. Also amusing are his efforts to avoid candies containing coconut.
This is one sweet treat of a book.
Being Irish, I didn't recognise a lot of the candy bars mentioned in
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this book (with the exception of dark Kit Kats), but what I did understand was this author's passion and humour when it came to the subject of candy. Parts of this book will have you laughing out loud. He is never afraid to be open and honest, and you will finish this book with a sense of connection to the author.As part of his research, Almond arranged to visit several small regional manufacturers throughout the states, including Philadelphia (Peanut Chews), Sioux City (Twin Bing), Nashville (Goo Goo Cluster), and Boise (Idaho Spud). The character portraits drawn of the factory owners and employees are endearing, but the author's fascination with the machinery used to create candy and his obsessional thieving fresh bars from the production line when not being watched are hilarious. Also amusing are his efforts to avoid candies containing coconut.
This is one sweet treat of a book.
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LibraryThing member Alliebadger
If you liked Fast Food Nation and Supersize Me, you'll love to devour this one. Steve Almond goes behind the scenes of candy-making: who the big firms are and what they're REALLY like. He also makes you pine for the days where monopolists didn't run the candy market by exploring smaller firms. He
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describes each confection in such delicious detail I guarantee you'll be craving some candy. I absolutely loved this book. Not only was it an incredibly interesting read, Almond is a fantastic writer and keeps you engaged and laughing along with him the whole journey. Look this one up. Show Less
LibraryThing member Naberius
One of my favorites! I actually went online and ordered a Cherry Bing, GooGoo Clusters, and Valomilks. I'm recommending this one to my nonfiction book group because it's such a fun read!
LibraryThing member skylightbooks
No one loves candy more than Steve. This hilarious account of his obsession and the journey through American candy history that it provokes will make you laugh until you cry. And nostalgia city! Remember the Caravelle bar? Remember the Bubble Yum shortage of the 70s? -Steve
LibraryThing member indygo88
This was a fun, lighthearted read written by a guy who is, yes, a candy freak. He grew up being obsessed with candy & apparently still is today. In it, he talks a little about his own history, as well as some history about candy in general in America, focusing more on the smaller, lesser-known
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candy companies who struggle to maintain a name in a country dominated by the "big 3" candy companies. While I wouldn't consider myself anything near a candy freak, I was drooling specifically over his descriptions of the 5 Star Bars. And like Steve, I have to also wonder why there aren't more coffee-flavored chocolate bars. I'd definitely become a fan of those. Show Less
LibraryThing member kingoftheicedragons
Of course, since I like candy and all sorts of sweet things, I thought that this would be a good book to read. And, it does start out interesting as the author details various interesting facts about candy--and mostly chocolate--in the United States. He travels around the country, talking with
However, as he visits more and more places, it seems as if he has nothing new to say about some of these things, and it shows in the writing that he has to really stretch his thoughts and adventures out in order to make the subject into a book.
You can easily find all the candy mentioned in the book, if you're willing to look for it, and look for it in places other than the big box stores such as grocery stores or department stores.
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various people who are candy freaks like himself and have actually done something with their love of chocolate besides just enjoy the taste silently--whether it's collecting candy bar wrappers from a variety of different sources or open up candy websites. And he tours small candy factories around the country. However, as he visits more and more places, it seems as if he has nothing new to say about some of these things, and it shows in the writing that he has to really stretch his thoughts and adventures out in order to make the subject into a book.
You can easily find all the candy mentioned in the book, if you're willing to look for it, and look for it in places other than the big box stores such as grocery stores or department stores.
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LibraryThing member Firecrackerscribe
LOVE THIS BOOK! Fun, fresh, crazy and indulgent. Very engaging, informative read.
Awards
Alex Award (2005)
Indies Choice Book Award (Honor Book — Adult Nonfiction — 2005)
Green Mountain Book Award (Nominee — 2008)
Language
Original publication date
2004-05-04 [2004]
Physical description
288 p.; 8 inches
ISBN
0156032937 / 9780156032933
Other editions
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