Narcissistic, invasive, annoying? No way – the voice note is a lifeline | Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett

What is it about the voice note that bothers so many people? I’ve seen it accused of all sorts – of being narcissistic, invasive, annoying – yet as a communication method, it continues to thrive. Having been a late adopter, I now send them all the time, usually while pushing my son around the city in his buggy (something that is impossible to do while texting).

Where once I felt annoyed when I received one, as though listening to another human being’s voice were simply too demanding, now I’m excited to hear what the person has to say, and how. Funny, sad, entertaining, long-winded, digressive, insightful; whatever their style, I can’t praise them enough.

What changed? I first came across voice notes when I lived in Italy, and noticed that all my Italian friends and lovers (sorry, but I could not pass up the opportunity to use “lover” in print at least once in my life) would reply to my texts with one. At first I was a bit baffled, but the longer I lived there, the better I came to appreciate that Italian culture is highly oral, and I began to find their refusal to abandon the spoken word endearing.

My peers never seemed to take to social media in the same way that others did, either. These were the days of Facebook, but most of my Italian friends couldn’t be arsed with it. Yet they were always, always on the phone. Voice notes are an extension of that impulse.

“But it isn’t a two-way conversation,” you might argue. Well, that’s the beauty of it. If you want to let a dear friend know that you are thinking of them, have a sudden inspired thought that you simply must share, need to rant about an argument that you had with your partner, or have just experienced a moment so hilarious and embarrassing that the written word will not do it justice, then a voice note is your medium.

Where people go wrong, I think, is that they feel under pressure to listen to a voice note right away, and so they become another thing on the endless to-do list of our hyperconnected lives. I do, in fact, feel this way about voicemails, which are not the same thing. The lack of reciprocity, plus having to phone up to listen to a voicemail, is what makes most of them – with the exception of the ones I get from my dad, which I love and always begin with “Hello, poppet” – incredibly annoying.

There are also many perfectly acceptable ways to respond to a voice note. If you want to reply with a heart emoji or a text that’s usually fine (of course, if someone is telling you a particularly distressing detail about their divorce, a simple thumbs up will not cut it). Besides, they can become two-way conversations, and quite thoughtful ones, too, because you have time to listen to what the other person has to say and mull it over in a leisurely fashion. Some of the most profound conversations I have had have been through voice notes.

And look, motherhood can be isolating. We don’t have the support networks that we used to. The best and most comforting voice notes can feel like dispatches from one lonely parent to another, saying: I understand you, I’m here for you, you can do this. The last voice note I sent told a friend how much I loved her and her children. They are having a difficult time and voice notes have become a way for us to communicate when we can’t find the time for a call, or our hands are full wrangling young kids.

My other favourite use for a voice note is for bitching and gossip. My friend once sent a 15-part voice note detailing in instalments a nightmare visit from her in-laws. I listened rapt, the way some people listen to true crime podcasts. It had everything: comedy, tragedy, total insanity. For her, it was catharsis. I could tell she was enjoying the performance of it as much as I was.

There are loads of other reasons to love voice notes. They’re safer for drivers, they are easier for people who struggle with texting for medical reasons and they are nice to listen to if you’re in hospital. They are harder to misconstrue, they are more personal. They are less burdensome to reply to than lengthy text messages (especially if you also write for work), and they can be comforting; it is very human to crave the sound of someone’s voice. Also, you can listen back to them. It won’t be lost on anyone who has gone through a bereavement that you can do this even after someone has gone.

As a writer, I am naturally drawn to the written word, but for a few years I have been thinking that we are losing something in our addiction to screens full of text that we absorb in silence. Voice notes are an antidote to that. In fact, that they are flourishing gives me hope.

• Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett is a Guardian columnist