There's a paragraph in Fiasco in which Lem defends the printed books. Alas, I can't quote it as I have Serbian 1989 translation of the novel. It is the midst of 3rd chapter (Resurrection) when the man who will soon took the name of Mark Tempe (spelling?) starts to read the novel about ants in Africa.
"He was reading the book for some time, understanding nothing at all - so full of force was the impression of plain, printed font in front of him. The shape of the letters, half-white, fragile pages, notable sewing [?] on boards, shelf of the boards alongside the chine, all that seemed to him familiar in unbelievable way, unique, as if it was something lost long ago and now suddenly found again. Although - to tell the truth - he never was very passionate reader. But now, holding the book in his hand, he felt some kind of solemn excitement, as if, sometime long ago, long dead writer gave him a promise, and now - after many obstacles have been fighted against - he was fullfilling it.
He had one unusual habit: to open the book at random place, on some vague page, and to start reading from that point. Writers, of course, wouldn't like this. Why he was doing so? Well, maybe he didn't want to enter the unreal world of the books step by step, through the gate which was prepared for him, but at once, in the midst."
My lousy translation ex abrupto. Speaking of Latin terms, the last words I'd translate as "... at once, in medias res..." :-)