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Jim Deva believes books can change lives. They've certainly done that for him. When Deva and his partner, Bruce Smyth, opened Little Sister's Book & Art Emporium in Vancouver in 1983, they didn't expect a fight. But their 22-year court battle over the importation of books that customs officials deemed offensive turned Deva and Smyth into icons of free speech and gay rights. Along the way, their book shop grew, grossing $1.4 million in its best year. But the store is now for sale, to the right buyer—someone who will continue the war and keep key staff. Retaining the long-time store manager is a condition of sale.

The first thing I thought when I heard you were selling was, "Oh, he's sick of the fight." Is that the reason? No. So many people have had that thought—that I'm ready to give up. Not at all. Our battle with Customs Canada was intense when we were in court, but it was also an interesting challenge. I don't think there was ever a time when I thought, "We don't want to be involved in this."

What kind of toll did it take on your business? People said Bruce and I would absolutely go broke fighting Customs Canada, but it actually gave us this wonderful name recognition across Canada and on almost a global basis. So it helped with the branding.

Where did you get the money to open the store? I was raised on a farm in rural Alberta. My father was very, very right wing. I told him I wanted to open a bookstore. I didn't give any more specifics. He gave me a small amount of money, which I paid back. But he had no idea that he was financing the first gay bookstore in Western Canada. About three years later, he came to town and he had a conniption. I got disinherited, couldn't go back to my family. But my father eventually died, and now I do go home and it's very nice.

Were there any problems in your start-up? We did some ridiculous things, like signing a five-year lease on a second-floor location. Then we went to city hall to get a business licence and they said, "There's no possible way that you can have retail on the second floor. It's not zoned for retail." We'd tied up what little money we had, and Bruce said, "Let's go back and try again." So we went back and got a young woman who pulled up the records and said, "You know you're not supposed to have retail in there." We explained what we were doing, and she just took the approval stamp, looked at us, whacked it, and it was done. We owe our business to that young woman.

How has the partnership worked between you and Bruce? He's a genius around numbers. I had the passion for the literature, he had the passion for balance sheets. It was a convergence that worked.

So why are you selling now? It's very personal. Bruce is now legally blind, and he can't read the bottom line any more. It's extremely frustrating for him, and it leaves me without that balance we've achieved. We had a bookkeeper about four years ago who ripped us off for $85,000, and it had to do with the fact that Bruce wasn't able to focus on the books. The bookkeeper spent a few months in jail and we have a court order to get the money back—which I don't think we'll ever see—but that was the wake-up call.

What's the future for independent bookstores? It's tough right now, but I don't think that's going to last forever. There will be a cycle again when independent booksellers are respected and encouraged. They have the time, and they have the passion, and there's certainly no passion in these large discount stores. It's become a very cold marketplace, and traditionally bookstores have been among the warmest, most knowledgeable places in a neighbourhood. And I think there's going to be a craving for that again.

"Little Sister's is a legend in its own time. What fight, what soul, what courage and principled defiance in the face of individual and state thuggery. They stood up for the civil rights of all Canadians—including those who would never have dreamed of crossing their threshold."