A voice does more than a thumbs up

You might say that you are in touch with people, in a way. You see their photographs. You put a heart on the picture of the new kitchen and a laughing face under the joke. You know they went to Portugal. It feels like a form of keeping up.

I'd look hard at that feeling, because I think it works as a substitute for contact. When you look at your friend's holiday pictures, you come away with the sense of having caught up. You know their news. But they don't know yours, and they may not know you looked. Nothing has passed between you. My view is that this kind of watching quietly takes the edge off the pang that might otherwise have got you to pick up the phone. You feel you've kept up, and so you don't ring. This is my interpretation and I haven't seen it tested.

On the question of which kinds of contact do the most good, there is research, and it goes against most people's instincts.

Amit Kumar and Nicholas Epley ran a field experiment in which people got back in touch with an old friend. Some were assigned to do it by phone and others by email. Beforehand, people expected the phone call to be more awkward. It wasn't. The calls were no more awkward than the emails, and the people who'd talked felt a stronger bond afterwards. In laboratory studies, strangers got to know each other by video, by voice alone, or by typed chat. The pattern was the same. Any channel that included the voice created more sense of connection than text did, with no extra awkwardness. People's expectations pointed the wrong way, and the researchers note that this leads them to choose the channel that does less for them.

So we avoid ringing because we expect it to be awkward, and the expectation is wrong. We choose text because it feels safe, and text gives less. It's the same pattern as in chapters 3 to 7, applied to the choice of channel.

I'm not saying a message is worthless. A message is a fine first move, and for a friend you haven't spoken to in fourteen months it's probably the right one. It lets them reply in their own time. The point is what the message is for. It's there to open the way to a voice or a face. It shouldn't be where the contact stays. An exchange of four friendly texts, ending in "we must catch up properly soon!", leaves you exactly where the thumbs up left you fourteen months ago.

There's a fair objection about manners. "Nobody rings unannounced any more. It feels intrusive. People see an incoming call and assume someone's died." That's true in many circles, and it's easy to work with. Send a message that sets up the call. "Are you around for a ring on Thursday evening? I'd love to hear how it's all going." Now the call is expected and welcome. With parents, older relatives and some old friends, you can simply ring. They belong to the generation that thinks a phone is for that.

If you find calls hard, there are halfway houses. A voice note carries your voice without needing the other person to be free. A walk together has the advantage that you're side by side, so silences are comfortable and nobody has to hold eye contact across a table. A short visit with a stated end works well too. "I'm passing on Saturday morning, could I drop in for half an hour?"

The title of this book says "ring", and I mean it fairly literally. Forty minutes on the phone with someone who knows you does something that no quantity of hearts and thumbs can do. You hear them laugh. You say something you hadn't planned to say. You find out what's going on with them, which might be quite different from the photographs. When you put the phone down, the friendship is switched on again.