Stuck in a stuffy classroom, aged 13, I’m struggling to concentrate. I don’t have the best attention span, and biology bores me on a good day.
Today’s lesson is supposed to be about sex education but it’s not helpful, useful or remotely exciting. The teacher is talking about ‘gametes’ and ‘mitosis’, and I simply can’t see what any of this has to do with sex.
I want to know about desire. At school, we sometimes talk about what to do if someone wants to kiss you and you don’t want to kiss them – but never what you should do if you do. I have many other burning questions.
What is it like to be naked with someone else? Is it normal to be so overwhelmed by the urge to kiss someone? Is it normal to fancy a character in a book? I won’t find any answers in my biology lesson.
My unofficial text book is across school, in my locker. I’m halfway through Rivals by Jilly Cooper, and think it might be the best book I’ve ever read, as well as the most educational.
Now the adaptation of Jilly Cooper’s Rivals is on our screens, starring Alex Hassell and Emily Atack, it will change the way a new generation of women thinks about sex and desire
Rivals, which stars Victoria Smurfit as Maud O’Hara, depicts women who love sex
Like me, Cooper is fascinated by sex. In her book, I’ve met some amazing men – and women. Women who love sex, who yearn and dream and fantasise. They’re so glamorous. I love reading about their fabulous dresses, and unquenchable thirst for champagne.
Rivals changed my life. I suspect that’s true for millions of women. And now a Disney+ adaptation is on our screens, I’m willing to bet it will change things for a new generation, too.
Two characters stand out for me. Cameron Cook, the beautiful and fiercely talented TV producer, played by Nafessa Williams in the new show. Her relentless ambition is inspiring; it’s clear she’s succeeding in a ‘man’s world’ – and having a brilliant time doing it.
Nafessa Williams as Cameron Cook, the beautiful and fiercely talented TV producer, in Rivals
Then there’s Taggie O’Hara (Bella Maclean), a tender-hearted people pleaser who struggles to stand out, and doesn’t usually get the men, or chances, she dreams about.
I love them both. I can relate to them both. And what I’m learning from them about love and lust seems far more useful than anything I picked up about cell division.
Rivals was first published in 1988 and, in many ways, the story is ‘of its time’, capturing attitudes to women, sex, race and class that have evolved over the past 30 years. But Cooper’s focus on, and celebration of, female pleasure still seems new and radical.
Writer Jilly Cooper, whose hit novel Rivals was first published in 1988
In the new series, the very first scene sets the tone: we’re on Concorde, Robert Palmer’s Addicted To Love is playing, and we see a succession of women gazing at a man walking down the aisle, undisguised lust on their faces. This is a show about what women want.
We might be in a man’s world, but it’s seen through the lens of the female gaze. I don’t want to think about who I’d be if I hadn’t discovered Cooper’s novels at a formative time.
They showed me it’s vital to prioritise pleasure for the sake of our own happiness and joy.
Sadly, this message is rare in books – and even harder to find on screen. I’ve lost count of the gritty dramas I’ve sat through in which sex is always associated with violence, and women are always victims.
Last year, I tried to watch The Idol, starring Lily-Rose Depp, the story of a ‘troubled’ pop star throwing herself in the path of humiliation, exploitation and pain. It made sex seem dark, not joyous. It seemed to say that if a woman wishes to find sexual fulfilment, she has to give up her dignity and agency.
The Idol, starring Lily-Rose Depp, which tells the story of a troubled pop star throwing herself in the path of humiliation, exploitation and pain, makes sex seem dark, not joyous
And while I loved Normal People, another sexy book-to-screen adaptation, it didn’t give me the hedonistic rush I was hoping for.
It depicted a complex, painful relationship, fraught with anxiety and heartbreak. It was brilliant, but it didn’t show me anything I hadn’t seen before.
Rivals, somehow, feels new. Yes, the show, like the book, doesn’t shy away from dark, complex issues; it’s set in a place and time when sexism, racism and misogyny were rife.
Normal People, starring Paul Mescal as Connell and Daisy Edgar-Jones as Marianne, depicted a complex, painful relationship, fraught with anxiety and heartbreak
But unlike other dramas, Rivals doesn’t force its darkness on us; it presents it as a fact of life. And it’s always contrasted with a focus on female pleasure, joy and fun. It shows us what happens when women are empowered to make their own choices, as well as warning us what goes wrong when those choices are taken away.
I was captivated by a scene in which Taggie opens a door and finds two characters having a passionate, extra-marital hook-up. We see little of the sex itself. We’re only shown the face of this one woman, looking on. She’s shocked and clearly horrified that these people are cheating on their partners.
But she’s excited, too. She can’t look away. The scene is raw, warm and real. I think this is one of the most complex and authentic expressions of female sexuality I’ve ever seen on TV.
In places, Cooper’s books have dated but, in the way Cooper celebrates women and pleasure, her novels feel timeless. In the 36 years since Rivals was published, no other author has written about sex in a way that focuses on women, and the great things that happen when we let ourselves explore desire.
My copy was passed to me by a friend who had liberated it from her mother’s shelf. On my podcast, You’re Booked, I ask guests about the ‘forbidden’ books passed around under school desks, because these novels have a formative effect on us. I have no doubt Rivals shaped me.
Rivals, which stars Alex Hassell as Rupert Campbell-Black, tells women that they can find happiness and empowerment if they are able to say yes to pleasure
When I was growing up, I received a lot of toxic and confusing messages about sex, my body and the way I should behave. It was Cooper who taught me about lust and laughter. She introduced me to a world in which most women started out feeling anxious about their bodies, only to discover that, ultimately, perfection doesn’t matter.
Thanks to Cooper’s books, not only did I expect sex to be pleasurable, I had the vocabulary and directions to provide my first boyfriend with specific instructions. More importantly, she equipped me with a strong set of standards for burgeoning relationships – that the best people are brave, funny and kind. When I saw one potential boyfriend shouting at his family dog, I stopped fancying him immediately. In Cooper’s world, only cads are cruel to animals.
Now a new generation of young women are discovering Cooper’s work and I hope they’ll find joy in it, too. Amidst today’s worrying rise in sexual violence, Rivals tells us that while no means no, yes definitely means yes – and that we can find happiness and empowerment if we’re able to say yes to pleasure, and to seek it out.
More sex please, we’re Jilly fans.
