I must confess that I have, in the past, described myself as “not that into reality TV.” There’s plenty of evidence to the contrary, based on my lifetime viewing history — the many hours devoted to Survivor’s early seasons, the dorm-room binge sessions of Project Runway and America’s Next Top Model, the weekly Bachelor/Bachelorette viewing group (now disbanded, finally broken by the endless parade of unworthy bachelors and racist winners). But still, I held onto this snobby idea of myself as a connoisseur of scripted narrative who was too sophisticated to enjoy the real garbage television, especially of the more aimless, clash-of-spray-tanned personalities genre (Jersey Shore, Real Housewives, Vanderpump Rules, etc).

It is true that the television I love best tends to offer a certain amount of structure, whether it’s provided by a tournament-style competition or a carefully crafted plot. But I’ve discovered one show — one very special and unabashedly trashy show — that’s challenged all of my reality TV biases and turned me into a babbling stan. That show is Love Island.

The premise is simple: a bunch of hot British idiots live together for a summer in a big house with a pool (they call it the villa), where they spend all of their time — like, literally 100% of their time — hooking up and squabbling and, if all goes well, falling in love with each other. The “island” of the title is both literal (the show is filmed in Majorca) and completely irrelevant (there is no ocean in sight, and they almost never leave the house). There is technically a competition going on, in which the audience voting from home will eventually elect one couple the winners, but it’s a very flimsy premise in which the rules are constantly changing, that mostly serves as a mechanism for the producers to gradually cut contestants and add new ones to keep the drama at a rolling boil.

Love Island is a huge sensation in the UK, but I was unaware of it until last summer, when a friend tipped me off to the fact that the full back catalog is available to Americans on Hulu (I’d recommend that you skip the early years and start with Season 3). I find the show both objectively insane — All the contestants have to share beds with each other, in the same room! They air five episodes a week! — and completely addictive.

Part of what I love is the anthropological, trans-Atlantic thrill of the hot idiots’ Britishness; they have accents from all over the UK and have vastly expanded my slang vocabulary. Part of it is the charming jankiness of the production; the contestants’ “dates” usually consist of drinking warm sangria at a table set up in the house’s driveway. And a big part of it is that most of the people on the show seem completely sincere in their desire to fall in love and get along with each other; they are very much here to make friends, in a way that resonates with the wholesome joys of Japan’s Terrace House (but with more fake boobs and sunscreen). Plenty of the people who appear on Love Island leverage their screentime into influencer careers afterward, but the show doesn’t have the sinister, capitalist sheen of the similarly chaotic Bachelor in Paradise, with its collection of jaded franchise regulars. There are villains in the mix, of course, but I generally end up rooting for at least a few of these dum-dums to find love with each other, with all my heart.

At least so far, Love Island has proven admirably resistant to messing with its own formula, even as it’s become a global sensation (a new season just started on ITV; I’m trying to figure out a convenient way to watch it that doesn’t require logging on through a VPN in the middle of my workday). And I strongly urge you to try watching it. I won’t lie, it’s a bit of a commitment, given that each season runs a cool 40+ episodes. But it’s a journey worth embarking on — one that could melt even this reality TV’s snob’s heart.

Features

Peter Gamlen for BuzzFeed News

14 Millennials Got Honest About How They Afforded Homeownership

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How The Story Of R. Kelly’s “Sex Cult” Finally Went Public — And Quickly Exploded

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Books

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Elizabeth Gilbert Doesn’t Care If You Think Her Book Is Chick Lit

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Alexander Chee On The Groundbreaking 1937 Novel That "Changed Something" In Him

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What Does An African "Game Of Thrones" Look Like?

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Cultural Criticism

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How Marvel Delivered The Grand Finale That “Game Of Thrones” Couldn’t

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Kate Hudson Was Destined For Hollywood Greatness. Then She Pivoted To Leggings.

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Elton John's Real Life Is Still More Interesting Than Rocketman

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Booksmart Has A Blind Spot When It Comes To Class

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Season 2 Of "Killing Eve" Killed The Queer Subtext, And All The Fun Along With It

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A newsletter exclusive: an interview with a writer we love! This month: Nicole Dennis-Been, whose new novel, Patsy, is out now.

What are you reading... Nicole Dennis-Benn?

Ozzier Mohammed

“I’ve been quieting my mind a bit with memoirs and poetry. I love to people watch and eavesdrop. Memoirs have been giving me that rare opportunity to slide into someone else’s life for moments at a time and relish in their experiences, thoughts, bad decisions, and intimate moments. On a recent trip to Puerto Rico I read — or in some cases, re-read! — a handful of books, indulging in their rich language and powerful experiences: Esmé Wang’s The Collected Schizophrenias, about a young woman’s experience living with schizophrenia and navigating a culture that knows so little about the condition; Kiese Laymon’s Heavy, which depicts his coming of age in Mississippi and becoming aware of his place as a black man in the US; and Sarah L. Broom’s The Yellow House, which captures her family history and the true essence of her community in New Orleans. Each one of these books reads like confessions from the soul, told with lucid honesty and unapologetic depictions of life outside of preconceived notions about people and place.

Poetry has been my trusty nightcap. Warsan Shire’s beautiful and haunting Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth has been resonating with me, taking me on a lyrical journey about belonging and womanhood. I’m about to start Jericho Brown’s new poetry collection, The Tradition, and Rion Amilcar Scott’s story collection, The World Does Not Require You I’ve read some of their poems and stories and can’t wait to read the rest!”

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