Books are mnemonic devices. A written story in its essence is not the same as the story itself. There is nothing in ink-blotted paper that on its own has any narrative or plot independent of a reader. Printed letters are mnemonic devices of sounds, sounds that form spoken words. The written page is one big memory cue for the reader to interpret from his own memory (of the words symbolized) which allows the reader to “remember” something from the author’s own mind. It is really an amazing thing, when you think about it.
Some people say that when oral stories are written down, they become fossilized and stagnate. This is not the case for someone who reads correctly. The written page, as we’ve said, is only a cue-card. The story still takes a new shape and form in the mind of the reader, because it is interpreted by the reader through his own memory and imagination. A story written down is not indeed a story fossilized, but rather an instance of a shaped narrative put down on paper so that the mnemonic cues can be retrieved by somebody distant in space and time from the original narrator.
All stories, whether oral or written narratives (and even stories/narratives conveyed in art and architecture), are extensions of memory. They are externalizations of the memory of an individual or a community that can be accessed and appropriated by another individual or community. Thus an individual or community can extend their own experience to others, and in turn expand their experience and memory by means of appropriating narratives received through the art and literature of others.