The U.K.'s love-hate relationship with U.S. TV.

For years, a large percentage of the U.K.'S television landscape has been filled with American-made programs. From I Love Lucy in the '50s to more recent hits like ABC's campy Desperate Housewives, a lot of what was, and is, being watched across the pond was made in the U.S.A., and, according to many, eroding British culture in the process. In American Television on British Screens: A Story of Cultural Interaction (2006, Palgrave Macmillan, 211 pages, U.S. $74.95) author Paul Rixon delves deep to discover how Britain's reliance on U.S. shows has shaped the nation--and whether it's for the country's betterment or to its detriment.

Many U.K. residents grew up watching American shows. They even got used to the "fade-outs and fade-ins which seemed to happen for no reason," as Rixon put it. In America, those were the places where commercials went. In Britain, the blank spaces were just plain weird. "The whole experience of watching such programmes [sans fadeouts] was different," wrote Rixon, after catching an episode of Star Trek while staying at an American motel. But few Brits bother to question the odd flickering and strangely timed fades. They simply watch what's on.

But while some folks choose to embrace whatever programming magically appears on their screens, others are a tad bit more discerning. Some Brits, for example, have, especially in recent years, adopted a somewhat ethnocentric view when it comes to foreign programming. More specifically, they've developed an aversion to U.S.-produced fare, which they see as having been produced by what Rixon describes as "a culture able to attract huge audiences rather than being made to educate, to stimulate or to create works of genius; it [is] a culture of the masses, not the culture of the elite or the working classes." They see America's vast and seemingly infinite programming library as having a corrosive effect and an "eroding influence" on British culture. They'd rather watch yet another movie of the week adaptation of a Jane Austen novel or The Benny Hill Show.

Yet, as Rixon freely admits, "no culture is hermetically sealed." No matter what they do, something foreign--and yes (gasp!) American--might find its way into the cultural realm. So what's an uptight Englishman to do?

Well, for one thing, he can stop complaining. In American Television Rixon gets to the bottom of why and when shows air in his Motherland. His scholarly dissections of topics that range from the early days of British broadcasting to the rise of the BBC and ITV to such seemingly mundane matters as the thought process behind airing such mature fare as Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its vampire-slaying spinoff Angel in earlier timeslots (slashing some of its content in the process in order not to offend younger viewers or incite the wrath of their parents) are truly insightful. It seems that since the early days of television--and especially today--the slicker production values of imported series make them more palatable to the average viewer, be they English, American, African or Asian (which partially accounts for Chinas recent ban on foreign animation; although many credit that with the Communist government's desire to curb the rise of Japanese cartoons). And anyway, most homegrown U.K. programs (like The Avengers and Danger Man) tend to have fewer episodes in a given year than U.S. shows, which average 22 episodes a season. The British police series The Professionals ran for seven years, yet only 57 episodes were made. In sharp contrast, American cop show Starsky and Hutch ran for just five years, but 92 episodes were produced. Britons in search of shows to watch for a longer stretch of the typical broadcast season must either watch American series--or well, nothing.

But however unlikely it may be, it seems that some would actually rather go with nothing. According to Rixon, U.S. productions are still viewed "with suspicion, unable to bring anything of value to British television or British culture." And why's that?

Because lots of Brits (primarily those of the older, more stuck-in-their-ways variety) fear that too many U.S. productions would affect their beloved culture. They feel that many American shows pander to the "lowest common denominator," and they don't want America's smut to become part of Britain. It's interesting to note that while many U.S. series do indeed cater to lowbrow tastes, full nudity is still prohibited on network television series and foul language is closely monitored. And the Federal Communications Commission will no doubt see that this remains the case for years to come.

So what do they mean by "lowest common denominator"? Rixon guesses they mean violence. Countless shows, including the aforementioned Angel, which tells the tale of a vampire who gets his soul back and tries to make amends for all he's done, have had to air with large chunks of material edited out in order to make them acceptable for airing during earlier timeslots. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, from which Angel was spun off, was shown on the BBC not at 8 p.m., as was the case in America, but at 6:45 p.m., a time when many children were watching the telly. Hence, the shows were nipped and tucked within an inch of their lives. Loyal British viewers of this bloodsucking franchise had to get the DVDs in order to see what truly happened to their beloved slayer and her loyal Scooby gang.

Rixon, a senior lecturer in Media and Cultural Studies at Roehampton University in the U.K., has written a surprisingly engrossing history of what American television means to the British. His succinct language and in-depth research, and acceptance of the intriguing truth that Brits themselves seem to go back and forth on whether or not U.S. series have any value, make American Television an instant text-book classic. At least in America, that is. The British have yet to fully weigh in.