Steve Almond's writing lies somewhere between memoir and journalism, as the introduction to the excerpt states. I'm repeating this because I admire how he hides his flaws with candy, acknowledges that it may come across as pretty pathetic, and has the balls to write about it anyway. He's chasing candy, a universal (and usually feminine) symbol of comfort and forced forgetting. He goes so far to want to see it in it's pre-natal, most vulnerable state. He seeks to bring down and humanize that which brings so many people comfort. Maybe because he has none, even in his own skin. Ultimately, though, I dont think he achieves that, or even comes close. Instead he finds himself in arguably the most depressing place in the United States: the Midwest. No offense to anyone from the Midwest, thats just how I've always imagined it, and how its portrayed in American culture, just like the South is populated with a bunch of blathering drooling bipeds resembling monkeys, but way dumber.
Almond finds America in the Midwest, though. He doesn't find consolation in exposing candy as anything other than what it is: sweet comforting deliciousness.
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