Is the round robin’s goose cooked?

Disclaimer: the views expressed in this article are those of the author and not those of the rest of the staff at Emphasis. We like robins here, and none were harmed in the production of this article. Ed.]

Christmas is a time for traditions. For many, this involves the holy trinity of tree, turkey and too much booze. For others, it may be the yearly toss-up between E.T. and The Muppet Christmas Carol. Then there’s the question that the press ask every year: will electronic messaging render the humble Christmas card obsolete?

If it does, it will mean change for the round robin: that curious festive tradition in which the writer recounts the highlights of their year and posts it to family and friends – and sometimes to anyone who ever gave them their address.

For many of us, the annual newsletter is an unwelcome Yuletide custom that sits alongside uncomfortable family gatherings, unwanted presents and overcooked dinners. It’s a great chance to catch up on the latest news from people you barely know and hear of events you scarcely care about – often in mind-melting detail.

For every person who wants to read an annual exposition of job promotions and exotic vacations, overachieving children and troublesome pets, there are many more who feel driven to rip holly wreaths apart with their teeth.

So, could the round robin (along with its even chunkier turkey cousins) be for the chop?

Self-indulgence is hard to stomach

The annual round-up can be particularly bothersome because it disobeys rule number one of good writing: it is not reader-centred.

Granted, it would be difficult to cater for every reader when the letter is going to be reproduced for every person with whom the author ever shared oxygen. But the assumption that the minutiae of the writer’s life will be endlessly fascinating to one and all makes it about the most self-indulgent kind of writing there is.

Robin sanctuary

Guardian writer Simon Hoggart is all too aware of the robin’s effect on people. For some years, he’s been receiving hundreds of them, forwarded to him by bemused or enraged readers for whom sending on the offending letters is a form of exorcism. One accompanying note apparently read: ‘I was going to throw this away, but I thought that my wastepaper basket was too good for it.’

Hoggart is probably the foremost authority on the subject, having turned the influx he’s received into a series of books featuring the funniest, weirdest and most excruciating extracts. The collection illustrates how the letters range from insufferable and smug –  ‘we went to see the pyramids (overrated)’  – to downright peculiar and even disaster-filled, with one 2,000-word document detailing a catastrophe-laden year of never-ending medical emergencies and mishaps.

Saving graces

One upside to these unwelcome annual assaults could be the opportunity to laugh at others’ misfortunes. To quote the novelist Angela Carter: ‘Comedy is tragedy that happens to other people.’ There is something perversely hilarious about the unfeasibly long list of woes and calamities of a virtual stranger, combined with the fact that this person has taken the trouble to chronicle them down to the last stubbed toe.

The robins are now migrating to the internet. Some 13 per cent of people polled last Christmas for a YouGov survey were planning to email their festive greetings. And if ever there was evidence that the spirit of self-importance and TMI (too much information) was alive and well, it’s in the rising tide of Facebook updates, overused Twitter feeds and (overly) personal blogs.

Indeed, cyberspace could already be seen as the stable wherein the newest incarnation of the round robin was born: the year-round robin (God help us).

But at least the internet offers one redeeming feature if it all gets too much: the off button.

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