It’s A Sign!

It’s official: Malvern Books is all lit up. Thanks to the good people at Ion Art, we now have a spiffy new neon sign, and we couldn’t resist taking a few pics of its arrival and installation:

Sign 1

Sign 2

Sign 3

Sign 5

In other Malverny news, the adorably named Shelf Awareness kindly gave us a plug in a recent issue. (I am using the word plug figuratively, of course; it would have been rather strange of them to give us an actual plug, though lord knows plugs always come in handy.) Thanks to everyone who read the article and tweeted at/about us—prepositions are tricky in this social media age, no?—and/or stopped by this here blog. We’re delighted to make your virtual acquaintance, and we look forward to making your real-life, pants-’n’-all acquaintance when the store opens (which will be very, very soon).

And finally… what have we here? Two cheerful blokes larking about in the Small Press Distribution warehouse?

SPD Order

Yes, indeed. And those boxes they’re standing in front of? Why, it’s only the largest single indie bookstore order ever to leave their warehouse… and it’s on its way to yours truly! Get your hand-trucks ready, Malverinos, there’s some lugging to be done.


Why, hello there! What have we here? A delivery? Could it be a lifetime’s supply of loofahs? A big ol’ bunch of chutney we bought online whilst drunk? Or maybe it’s that giant self-assembly cat tree we’ve had on our Petco wishlist for-evah?

Delivery 1

Nah, don’t be daft. It’s just books. 1,700 POUNDS OF BOOKS! Malvern Books’ first ever shipment! Here they are in our storage room, waiting patiently to strut their literary stuff on our bookshelves…

Delivery 2

And speaking of shelves, they’re coming along nicely, thank you. Two of them are featured below (yes, they’re a work in progress). We plan on having some more, because although we are by no means spatial savants, we have estimated that these two shelves will not hold all of our books.


Of course, the arrival of our first shipment was not without drama. It goes something like this: a few days prior to delivery, we meet with Pat, our taciturn but ever-so-efficient contractor, and he casually mentions that we need to install all our pendant lights before we can have an electrical inspection. Sure, makes sense. No big deal. I mean, we haven’t actually bought any pendant lights yet—we want to get a feel for the semi-finished place before we make our selections—but whatever, we’ll get around to it. Sensing our lack of urgency vis–à–vis hanging illumination, Pat sighs. Is it possible our charming bureaucratic naïveté is beginning to irk? Surely not! Pat calmly points out that without an electrical inspection, we can’t get a Certificate of Occupancy. Okay, fine. Again, what’s the rush? We’ll go pick out some lights, install ’em, get an electrician to sign a piece of paper stating that our lights are as harmless as a cotton ball on a cat’s nose, and then the C of O shall be ours. Chill, Patrick! But alas, there’s more. Because apparently one cannot accept inventory shipments without a Certificate of Occupancy. And we have 1,700 pounds of books arriving any day now. Oh, holy mother of poop.

Needless to say, a glorious panic attack was had by all. Some bleepy words may have been uttered. Arguments may have been had concerning whose living room would be most suitable for the temporary storage of four-thousand books. Thankfully, we learned of the existence of a Temporary Certificate of Occupancy, also known as the world’s most splendid piece of a paper, which can be obtained (for rather a hefty sum) in the absence of an electrical inspection. Hallelujah.

Of course, after paying a small fortune for this blessed piece of paper, it turned out we didn’t need it after all. A jolly (tipsy?) electrical inspector stopped by, was utterly unconcerned by the not-yet-pendantic pendant lights, and merrily gave us the thumbs up. This caused us to make the rare harumphyay sound, a combination of a harumph and a yay, which is only ever used to express the combination of relief and frustration one experiences upon learning that one has unnecessarily spent a small fortune in order to avoid filling one’s living room with books. Harumphyay, y’all, but with an emphasis on the yay, because we. have. books.