You know, Phaedrus, writing shares a strange feature with painting. The offsprings of painting stand there as if they are alive, but if anyone asks them anything, they remain most solemnly silent. The same is true of written words. You'd think they were speaking as if they had some understanding, but if you question anything that has been said because you want to learn more, it continues to signify just that very same thing forever.
When it has once been written down, every discourse roams about everywhere, reaching indiscriminately those with understanding no less than those who have no business with it, and it [writing] doesn't know whom it should speak and to whom it should not. And when it is faulted and attacked unfairly, it always needs its father's [the writer's] support; alone, it can neither defend itself nor come to its own support.
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What is Socrates' proposed solution, then? A combination of two things: (1) of course, the so-called Socratic method (elenchus in Greek) of refutation, that teases out better hypotheses by "identifying and eliminating contradictions", and (2) the "art of dialectic", i.e. the art of investigating the truth, which Plato makes Socrates use in his later dialogues such as the Republic. I'm sure we don't miss the irony here—we gain many of Socrates' insights, regardless of what we think of them, thanks to Plato's writing.PS: I agree with you on books, modulo this: it's more likely to see pigs flying than to see "books starting to slowly fade away" :-)
[1] This English translation (by Nehamas & Woodruff) is excellent: https://www.hackettpublishing.com/philosophy/phaedrus