Part personal journey of self-examination, part incisive account of this nation's vanishing independent candymakers, and all panegyric to the wondrousness of chocolate, Candyfreak adroitly pokes and probes at Almond's -- and many Americans' -- obsession with candy bars.
"The candy bar is a uniquely American concept," explains Almond, 37, over the phone from Boston, where he teaches creative writing at Boston College. "And Americans' relationship to candy is typically American -- that is, there's a lot of mindless consumption, a lot of self-medicating. But like anything else, candy is deep. It is a complex psychological and emotional experience and cultural artifact, and it has really meant a lot in my life. As a candy freak, the way that I live with the fact that I eat a lot of candy -- which is pretty shitty for the world economy, because, basically, it's a luxury -- is that at least I try to be appreciative of it."
In Candyfreak, that appreciation takes the form of a cross-country pilgrimage, with Almond checking in for choco-smeared pit stops at the plants of various regional indie manufacturers -- the makers of Valomilk, Goo Goo Clusters (Nashville, Tennessee), Idaho Spuds (Boise, Idaho), Twin Bings (Sioux City, Iowa), Goldenberg's Peanut Chews (Philadelphia), Big Hunks (Hayward, California), Five Star Bars (Burlington, Vermont) -- while pondering candy's social history and cultural significance.
Along the way, Almond witnessed what he terms "late-model capitalism" in action, with the "reality of the bottom line being reinforced over and over again" by the little guys' constant struggle to survive in the ever-lengthening shadow of the industry's voracious Big Three: Mars, Hershey and Nestlé.
Almond also repeatedly witnessed the production of "small-batch bars using 1950s technology," watching transfixed -- ecstatically -- as men, women and machines converged harmonically to create chocolate manna. His deepest and most satisfying resultant "freaktrance" was induced by the "enrobing" process, during which a shower of chocolate coats the marshmallow or peanut butter or nougat or fruit or whatever core of a candy bar. "This is the Willy Wonka waterfall, chocolate in its liquid form, its dynamic state," he rhapsodizes. "Chocolate is something that is solid, and then it becomes liquid in our mouths. When we see enrobing, we could just drink it. Watching candy being made is pornography to me."