Ah, Harlots. Rarely has a show about such wretched people been so delightful to watch.

Much of the discussion of this show spotlights the women behind the camera, and how that allows for a re-centering of women in a familiar story of Ye Olde Sex Work. That’s certainty a hallmark of the show; Harlots treats sex work with all the illegal pragmatism of running a coffee shop without a license, and turns the focus of everyone’s internal lives entirely elsewhere. It’s also been praised (here as much as anywhere) for its pulp and its camp, as with one of my favorite world-building touches in recent years: making characters constantly use full names when referring to each other, because nearly every line of dialogue is on some level a pronouncement that requires it.

And it’s easy for for these elements to overshadow discussion of story beats—particularly because plot twists regularly slip from their mob-drama moorings and drift into soap archetypes. This is a season where characters discuss their deepest secrets (using full names, as contractually obligated) in enemy territory at a hearty volume behind barely-closed doors and then are stunned to have been thwarted by an enterprising eavesdropper.

But it’s also a show that’s using its pulp and camp in the service of a vital story.

I reviewed the season premiere and season finale of the second season of Harlots for The AV Club. The whole season is definitely worth your time, and if you think I’m exaggerating the show’s commitment to using full names, you are in for such a treat.