Almond’s Joy

The Candyfreak Man on writing, reading and sweet treats

Scott Dickensheets

Steve Almond has published three books: two collections of vivid, sometimes twisted short fiction (My Life in Heavy Metal and The Evil B.B. Chow and Other Stories) and one nonfiction cult fave, Candyfreak: A Journey Through the Chocolate Underbelly of America, about his obsession with sweets. He's also a prolific contributor to magazines and literary journals. At the Las Vegas Valley Book Festival, he'll participate in a panel discussion about satire and social commentary.



Why candy?


Because gum was already taken? Actually, when I wrote the book I was in a fit of sustained self-loathing, so writing about something I loved was about the only thing I felt I could write about. Plus: free candy. Plus: watching candy being made is basically porn to me.



What was it about Candyfreak that caught on among readers?


I think most people are closet obsessives. They all have their own freaks, so I think they can understand and appreciate someone who's in the thrall of something that they can't control and feel vaguely ashamed of. Also, readers mostly read for intensity of feeling. That doesn't get mentioned a lot, but it's the truth. Most books are driven by desire. Also: A lot of people (most, I'd say) have some kind of candy they freak over, some little candy obsession that made a deep mark young and never quite went away.



For a while, it seemed as though I saw a story or essay by you in every third magazine I picked up, from mainstream mag to obscure literary pub. Do you write a lot by inclination or by necessity?


Both, I guess. I basically write about what interests me. I was a reporter for a number of years, and that kind of beat the sacrosanct approach to language out of me. It's not that I'll "write anything," but that I see writing as serving a bunch of different functions. Sometimes I'm just trying to crack wise, sometimes I'm trying to rant about the world and its endless bullshit, sometimes (the best times, I'd say) I'm trying to convey my love for the world and its tender inhabitants.



You're coming to Vegas for a panel on satire and social criticism. Do you actually think of yourself in those terms?


Not really. I think of myself, primarily, as a failed novelist. In the meantime, I've tried to put some good stories and nonfiction into the world. A lot of that is social satire. Not sure what that makes me. But it's a fine tradition and increasingly necessary as America grows more and more selfish and absurd.



Are there writers of satire and social criticism you read regularly?


I love Calvin Trillin. Love George Saunders. Love Martin Amis. Love Anthony Lane. William Monahan wrote a brilliant book called The Lighthouse that I adore. I'm pretty drawn to any writing that's smart and funny and mean when necessary but mostly heartbroken.



Describe a typical writing day.


Typical day would include five or six hours of self-loathing, with a lot of procrastination thrown in, and a couple of hours of actually writing. Meals. The occasional bath. I don't write as much as I should, or as deeply. No decent writer does.



When you're writing a piece of fiction, how carefully do you plan out writerly things like the voice, changes of pace—or do you write more by ear than by plan?


I don't think you can "plan" voice—you've more got to hear it in your own head. I'm a pretty lousy planner in general. I think of stories more in panels: What scenes are going to force my people into the most danger? You don't throw a bunch of beauty at the page in the hope of making truth—it's the other way around. Trying to tell the truth (especially the difficult stuff) makes the language rise into beauty.



How much of a concern is voice when you're writing nonfiction? In a lengthier project like Candyfreak, how much thought goes into creating a voice that readers can live with for a couple hundred pages? Or do you just write?


Well, I do just write. But I'm also aware that most people have better things to do (or think they do) than read. So I don't want to abuse their generosity or try their patience. So: no confusing passages, a minimum of self-importance, focus, and as much honesty as I can muster. Then read over your stuff and cut out all the self-important shit that somehow still got in there.



Do you think we're in a post-literate era, where quality writing gets lost in the general info-blizzard pop culture throws at us? As a writer, how do you combat that?


I don't think we're post-literate, but I do think that reading is on the ropes. It's hard to shut out all the buzz and give yourself over to the solitary pleasures of reading, given the velocity of life, the frantic inattention and determined superficiality of late-model capitalism. There's no way this is going to change until our lives slow down, which hopefully will happen when we run out of oil and water and have to sacrifice a little, and simplify our lives. Then again, given the prevailing values of this country, and the preponderance of weapons, we may all be dead before reading becomes vital again. I wish I were joking.



Got any upcoming projects you can talk about?


Have a book coming out in spring that I co-wrote with the novelist Julianna Baggott. It's called Which Brings Me to You and it's pretty filthy. And, of course, I continue to hope that some European publisher invites me over to write Candyfreak Deux: European Road Trip. ...

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