I have something awful to confess: I am a literature snob. It’s certainly not one of my more attractive traits.
I’m a fast reader whose English degree has stood in good stead in helping me analyse and assess what could be described as ‘a good read’ (well, it had to be useful for something).
But three years studying Milton and Hardy at university has seen me develop aversion to any pulp fiction, meaning the likes of Jilly Cooper, Jackie Collins or anyone who gets lumped into the ‘bonkbuster’ genre is something I immediately snub.
So when I was assigned to read Jilly Cooper’s Rivals to see if it could withstand its TV reboot, I was less than thrilled, knowing I was forced to spend my weekend dragging my heels in what I’d assumed to be drivel.
My task had come after Disney snapped up the rights to Rivals in 2023, and the (now award-winning) mini series went on to air last October, starring the cream of British acting talent — Emily Atack, Aidan Turner, David Tennant and Danny Dyer — all with Cooper’s blessing (who also serves as exec producer and had a cameo role).
So, back to the book. Following on from Riders – the first in Cooper’s Rutshire Chronicles series, which explores the racy showjumping set (and distinctly remembered for its risqué cover of a woman in tight white jodhpurs being spanked) – Rivals swaps the saddle for satellites, delving deep into the supposedly sexy world of television production.
Her antihero from Riders, Rupert Campbell-Black, returns to be caught in the thick of the action in Rivals – quite literally. Effectively a bout of chlamydia on horseback, Rivals follows our rake Rupert as he’s now left showjumping – keeping his athletics strictly bedroom only – having now become a Conservative MP (what else?)
Barely any characters return from Riders, with the sequel focusing on Rupert’s antagonistic relationship with Lord Tony Baddingham – someone equally as wealthy, charismatic and brutish. Their bitter rivalry gets personal when the two go head-to-head to win a television franchise, with their ongoing warfare seeing practically the whole county caught in the crossfire.
Did I enjoy reading Rivals? Well, Shakespeare it ain’t – but nor is it trying to be. It’s 700+ pages of candyfloss fiction – fun, insubstantial and easy to digest.
It also feels distinctly a product of its era, with much of the plot centred around sweaty shags – 9/10 of them illicit.
Women are often compared to animals in the bedroom: one character is described as an electric eel in the sack, while another is an ‘excited whippet’. The desirability of young teenage girls heavily features, which I’ll admit felt uncomfortable – particularly as Rivals’ ‘true love’ story focuses around a man pushing 40 and a woman not yet 19 (Yes, Rupert and Taggie for those who remember first time round.)
The vast majority of marriages in the book are those of convenience, with wives wistfully decrying that ‘boys will be boys’ and staying in visibly unhappy partnerships with awful men.
Women’s weight is also referenced repeatedly, with characters receiving praise for being painfully thin – one wife proudly announces she only weighs seven stone in the early chapters.
More refreshingly, however, all the women are happily hairy – their private areas are all described as ‘bushes’ – harkening back to a time before being clean-shaven is the expected norm.
But for all the throwbacks to pubic hair and shoulder pads, Rivals has some clear parallels to the modern day. An early chapter to the book sees Baddingham ponder ‘alpha males’, a debate we are unfortunately still having today thanks to divisive internet figures.
Elsewhere, observing the effects of seeing women in powerful roles, as well as heaps of Tory sleaze, makes it clear to see why Rivals will make a captivating television series for a 21st century audience.
The book’s acquisition by Disney prompted questions about whether Cooper’s raunchier snippets will be sanitised to appeal to a wider viewership. However, Dominic Treadwell-Collins, the writer behind the series, did good on his promise that not only will Rivals be full of the kind of sex scenes typical of the book, but that the gender balance will ensure ‘a willy for every pair of tits’.
Of course, it would have been a total disservice to Cooper’s writing if any of the source material has been watered down.
Audiences aren’t stupid; on the whole, we’re aware 80s society was different, and that attitudes towards what is and isn’t acceptable have changed. Should parts of the narrative be altered to fit a 21st century perspective, Rivals would lose its original appeal and charm.
For me, the TV show needed to wholly embrace the glamour, sex and seediness of the novel and follow more in the footsteps of Dallas and Footballers’ Wives to provide a refreshing bit of camp escapism, as opposed to a gritty look at the high pressures of trying to win a TV franchise.
By keeping its overall playful tone, Disney knew it was onto a winner with Rivals and has done Cooper’s novel proud.
A version of this article was first published 27 March 2023.