THE COMPOUND

Love Island meets Lord of the Flies in this debut novel narrated by a reality TV show contestant.

The story begins—and remains—at a vast, dilapidated compound in the desert where narrator Lily and nine other young women await the arrival of “the boys.” (The compound’s setting is unspecified, and there are hints about dystopian times: Lily wonders if any of the boys have fought in “the wars,” and at one point she muses, “We all would probably be dead in twenty years, maybe thirty if we were lucky.”) Once the nine young men arrive at the compound, the game begins. Long a fan of the (unnamed) reality series in which she’s now co-starring, Lily knows the drill: Hidden cameras record contestants vying to be the last one standing. “The big screen” delivers instructions that yield group rewards (e.g., “Task: Every boy and girl must discuss their previous relationships. Reward: Outdoor seating”); each contestant’s “little screen” delivers instructions that yield personal rewards (“Task: Tell someone in the compound a secret / Reward: Comb”). As the tasks get crueler (“Banish a resident of the compound”) and weirder (“Spit in your bedmate’s mouth”), participant numbers dwindle, food grows scarce, and nerves and loyalties fray. Rawle, an Irish writer, has fully imagined this rapacious world. She takes a risk by imbuing Lily, who sold makeup at a department store before she became a contestant, with qualities that don’t scream “fan favorite”: She admits to being passive, shallow, and not especially interesting. Lily’s self-awareness will dawn too gradually for some readers, and the story takes a while to gather steam, but Rawle ultimately balances a shrewd indictment of reality TV’s contrived survivalism with a celebration of the same.

Manna to fans of reality TV and some haters as well.