When it comes to coffee, I admit that I'm a bit of a Philistine. I hate cappuccino, espresso, latte and all that Italian muck that has taken over coffee shops worldwide. Given the choice, I'm much happier with a decent filter coffee, and happier still with a mug of plain old Nescafe. I can't resist my local newsagent's bargain price and don't care that the jar may be written in Russian or Arabic.
Despite my unrefined tastes, I was drawn to the idea in Anthony Capella's novel of being able to define coffee its aromas and tastes. The main character Wallis is pretty much blackmailed into working for Pinker's coffee shop, where he soon sets his sights on the owner's daughter, Emily and her father's money. She accepts his proposal but before they can wed, Wallis is sent away to Africa to start a coffee plantation (a shrewd move by her father who hopes the playboy will be out of sight and out of mind there). Once in Africa, Wallis promptly falls for a slave girl.
I don't want to give away too much of the plot, but this is a really fun, rollicking good read, frequently bawdy, and gives a flavour of life in Edwardian London as well as colonial Africa. It is also interwoven with politics - Emily despite marrying a Liberal MP, is an active member of the Suffragettes.
Make yourself a cup of your favourite coffee, sit down and get stuck in. You're in for a treat.