Why not suppose that we read books, they read us? Our lives are their stories.
Also, maybe books that were written by the same author, printed on the same tree or with the same supply of ink, or touching covers can communicate, not in letters or ink, but ideas. Since, after all, isn't that what books are? Ideas?
And it would be an entirely *oral* culture. Stories passing by way of sharing shelf space or from same author to same printing press, etc. A vast, loosely connected network.
And old books, so long forgotten, finding new life when bought at yard sales and put on new shelves. And finally having a new audience for all the stories it has accumulated over the years. And gaining new stories and lives in return.
Oh, and the sudden absence of a voice when a book falls apart or is destroyed.
A group of books prepared for burning. All sharing as many stories as they can before the flames reach them. And each falling suddenly silent as their covers buckle and pages curl inward and blacken.
It could actually be quite interesting.
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On a side note, you may wish to look into Morrow's The Last Witchfinder (a book written by a book) and Moer's The City of Dreaming Books (books as creatures, creatures as books).
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Also, maybe books that were written by the same author, printed on the same tree or with the same supply of ink, or touching covers can communicate, not in letters or ink, but ideas. Since, after all, isn't that what books are? Ideas?
And it would be an entirely *oral* culture. Stories passing by way of sharing shelf space or from same author to same printing press, etc. A vast, loosely connected network.
And old books, so long forgotten, finding new life when bought at yard sales and put on new shelves. And finally having a new audience for all the stories it has accumulated over the years. And gaining new stories and lives in return.
Oh, and the sudden absence of a voice when a book falls apart or is destroyed.
A group of books prepared for burning. All sharing as many stories as they can before the flames reach them. And each falling suddenly silent as their covers buckle and pages curl inward and blacken.
It could actually be quite interesting.
---
On a side note, you may wish to look into Morrow's The Last Witchfinder (a book written by a book) and Moer's The City of Dreaming Books (books as creatures, creatures as books).