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One L: The Turbulent True Story of a First Year at Harvard Law School
Newsweek calls him "an extraordinarily canny and empathetic observer." In bestseller after bestseller, Turow uses his background as a lawyer to create suspense fiction so authentic it reads with the hammering impact of fact. But before he became a worldwide sensation, Scott Turow wrote a book that is entirely true, the account of his own searing indoctrination into the field of law called ... The first year of law school is an intellectual and emotional ordeal so grueling that it ensures only the fittest survive. Now Scott Turow takes you inside the oldest and most prestigious law school in the country when he becomes a "One L," as entering students are known at Harvard Law School. In a book that became a national bestseller, a law school primer, and a classic autobiography, he brings to life the fascinating, shocking reality of that first year. Provocative and riveting, One L reveals the experience directly from the combat the humiliations, triumphs, hazings, betrayals, and challenges that will make him a lawyer-and forever change Turow's mind, test his principles, and expose his heart.
276 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1977
768 people are currently reading
5417 people want to read
About the author
Scott Turow
113 books2,596 followersScott Turow is the author of ten bestselling works of fiction, including IDENTICAL, INNOCENT, PRESUMED INNOCENT, and THE BURDEN OF PROOF, and two nonfiction books, including ONE L, about his experience as a law student. His books have been translated into more than forty languages, sold more than thirty million copies worldwide, and have been adapted into movies and television projects. He has frequently contributed essays and op-ed pieces to publications such as the New York Times, Washington Post, Vanity Fair, The New Yorker, and The Atlantic.
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December 2, 2016
This was a fascinating look at what law school is really like. Sure, I've seen the movies "Legally Blonde", "The Paper Chase" and even "Soul Man," but this wasn't a goofy Hollywood movie -- Scott Turow actually lived it.
Turow started at Harvard Law School in September 1975. He took good notes and kept a journal of his experiences as a law student, which he later turned into this insightful memoir. I really enjoyed the stories of his professors, his classes, his fellow students, and how much reading and studying was involved. I can understand why this book is still so widely read by law students several decades later -- it's well-written and straightforward about the challenges and pressures facing law students.
While I don't plan on going to law school, I do enjoy books about academia, and I'm glad I read this. I highly recommend "One L" to anyone interested in the law school experience.
Turow started at Harvard Law School in September 1975. He took good notes and kept a journal of his experiences as a law student, which he later turned into this insightful memoir. I really enjoyed the stories of his professors, his classes, his fellow students, and how much reading and studying was involved. I can understand why this book is still so widely read by law students several decades later -- it's well-written and straightforward about the challenges and pressures facing law students.
While I don't plan on going to law school, I do enjoy books about academia, and I'm glad I read this. I highly recommend "One L" to anyone interested in the law school experience.
February 16, 2022
Turow paints a largely accurate picture of the life of a first-year student at a top American law school. He describes his gifted, high achieving, and insufferably competitive peers and professors to a T. Those who have survived the ordeal will immediately recall their own struggles to comprehend the first few cases they read and briefed, the hours, the jargon, and generally navigating unknown waters. (Should I buy a hornbook or stick with the thousands of pages of assigned casebook reading? Is it useful to join a study group? What's the Law Review? etc.) The atmosphere, saturated with fear of failure (read mediocrity), will resonate with any who have competed at a high level or longed for excellence.
The book is about people searching to find relevance. Here, the search takes place in the increasingly silly and mundane legal world. Many characters and some of Turow's points of emphasis strike me as self-indulgent and annoyingly self-satisfactory. The problem is the use of proxies for success as improper substitutes for the real thing. For example, high grades and Law Review participation are certainly impressive academic achievements. But the real achievements in law occur outside the classroom. They involve getting the innocent acquitted and the guilty convicted, or establishing the most economically efficient legal doctrine to enhance everyone's standard of living. Turow and his peers were thrilled to be admitted to Harvard because it is Harvard and it is exclusive. They desired high grades and invitation to Law Review because these were distinctions between themselves and others. They were BETTER than those who were not admitted to Harvard, who did not have high grades, and who were not on the Law Review. The motivating factor, by all appearances, is mere egotism, not a desire to do justice. There's no other way to explain the crippling fear of poor grades or mediocrity, as opposed to slight disappointment.
After all, there are no grand moral truths to defend in tax, secured transactions, or civil procedure. No flesh and blood human beings or clients are affected by a student's exam or Law Review submission. Instead, success in such courses goes to those most able to survive a war of attrition, who continue to read and plug away at the concepts when wiser souls would have long recognized the absurdity of the endeavor. Grade distributions from the first year classes of property, contracts, torts, civil procedure, and criminal law are useful to firms in sorting out the more talented from the less so in the narrow skill of writing an exam. It is useful in selecting Law Review members and clerkships, which are just extensions of the game, more hurdles to jump through, more feathers to scoop up in backbreaking fashion, more ends in themselves. These are the heights to which many aspire. This is the source of much misery and misdirected energy. This is so unnecessary.
In the end, the desire to be recognized, to stand out, to feel pleased with oneself and have one's efforts rewarded is completely understandable. Turow captures this idea perfectly. It's tragic that such feelings of security and success and personal worth stem from mastery of the Uniform Commercial Code. But perhaps this is no worse than the same feelings stemming from mastery of Donkey Kong (see the documentary King of Kong), the triple Salchow, or the four-seam fastball.
The accurate:
1. Law school is competitive. To be accepted into a top law school, one must have stellar academic credentials, which are basically defined by an LSAT score and undergraduate GPA. Success in both areas requires a combination of intelligence and diligence. Thus, even prior to the first day of class, a selection bias operates to create a group of competitive assholes. More than one of these people will have read hornbooks over the summer in preparation for the upcoming semester. All will have enjoyed academic success for the majority of their lives. And almost all will, to a greater or lesser degree, define their self worth through academic achievement. When grades are distributed on a strict curve, as they are in many law schools, there will necessarily be only a limited number of people at the top. This requires most of the class, formerly sure of themselves and proud of their abilities, to literally reevaluate their lives and their worth as they find themselves at the bottom or middle of the class for the first time.
2. The secret desire to do well and fear of failure when surrounded by such talented and motivated individuals is very real. People discover what they are made of in law school, and it can be scary. Turow captures this sentiment beautifully when describing a conversation he had with his peers about the Law Review. Some stated flatly they wanted to make it because of the honor. Turow initially said he did not want it and wouldn't participate in the 40-50 hours per week required to complete cite checking--the arduous and thankless task of verifying the accuracy of sources supporting propositions in published academic pieces. But when pressed, he admitted that he actually did want it and says, "I felt I'd done something precarious, something quite dangerous, the minute the words were out of my mouth." The danger was in allowing himself to acknowledge that he cared about something, that he had set a goal, even if subconsciously, that he probably would not be able to fulfill, and failing to fulfill that goal would be emotionally painful.
3. Economics is inextricably linked to the law. Legal doctrines, decisions, and arguments frequently draw on concepts from economics. Students who are well-versed in economics likely have an advantage in law school. Civil procedure's rules, cost/benefit analysis in administrative law and elsewhere, efficient breaches in contracts, the concept of negligence in torts, the Coase theorem in property, and many other areas of economics reveal themselves throughout nearly every law school course.
4. Grading in law school is imperfect. Most courses have just one final exam at the end of the term. Thus, a single exam between 3 and 8 hours determines one's grade for the course. There is insufficient time to deeply wrangle with the issues, and the process is more like regurgitation than analysis. Many believe the single exam system exists to minimize the amount of effort required by professors to determine grades. Others complain that their true ability, whatever that means, is not reflected in so short a time. Still others swear that preparation has no relation to grades. Despite these drawbacks, it's not at all clear there is a better alternative. As is frequently the case in life, it is easy to point out a problem and much more difficult to find a solution. However imperfect the single exam evaluation is, and setting aside that there is a great deal of variation between the abilities of students with similar grades, grades do serve a useful function by distinguishing. Effort and knowledge are rewarded, and there is a large difference between an A+ exam and a mediocre one.
5. Grades are hugely important. With 40,000 or more attorneys graduated every year in the United States, law firms, judges, and government agencies simply must use some method to whittle down applicants for associate positions. Grades are an easy way to do just that. Moreover, the grades do reveal something, whether it's effort, intelligence, or even a bit of luck.
6. The varying teaching styles described by Turow are spot on. The Socratic method, whereby professors "cold call" students or ask questions and delve into the responses to reveal underlying concepts and encourage critical thinking, is a staple of the first year legal curriculum. Some professors are better at it than others. Some, like Turow's Torts professor, will literally never make an affirmative statement, preferring instead to leave questions open. Others may use classes as their own ego-stroking sessions, never failing to achieve what seems like ersatz sexual gratification at the thought that they know more than their students. Occasionally, however, students are blessed with that rare professor who is both talented and comfortable in his own skin. He asks difficult and important questions to provoke new thoughts or refine arguments. He answers questions when needed and builds on established ground, climbing slowly to exciting new heights and intellectual playgrounds, inviting students to join him in the sandbox above.
7. The first year is exhausting. Reading cases and studying the law is like learning a second language, as Turow mentions. The concepts themselves are rarely difficult. Instead, the difficulty lies in the volume of material to be sifted and learning how to extract the pertinent from the extraneous. The difficulty lies in overcoming jargon and the barriers erected by annoying, petty people who intentionally obscure their ideas in unnecessarily complex language or sentence structure in order to give the illusion of brilliance. The worst offenders? Professors and judges, the very people from whom new students are forced to learn. Reading and understanding small numbers of pages requires large numbers of hours in the beginning because of the novelty of the endeavor. It is not an exaggeration that most of one's waking life is devoted to the study of the law during that first semester, but this is largely due to his own inefficiency. Not yet knowing what is important, dozens of hours are wasted on material that won't be covered on the final exam.
8. Law school is not about education. It is about playing a game. Turow refreshingly acknowledges that he chose his elective in the Spring based on his estimated time required for daily preparation and difficulty of the material. For most students, concerns like interesting material or actually learning something useful are a distant second to finding the path of least resistance. Students don't take the renowned prosecutor or scholar if he is a notoriously difficult grader; they'd much rather the unknown teacher who will go easier on them.
The absurd:
1. The insecurity masked as arrogance described by Turow is either unbearable or pitifully comedic depending on one's disposition. Those with truly brilliant minds, nimble, open to subtle reasoning and argumentation, have no need to assert it to others. People who are in constant competition or have an insatiable need to assert their superiority would not seem like fun chaps with whom to spend an evening, no matter how accomplished they may be. Their haughty self-righteousness--the author's own faults in this area seeped through more than once--bothered the hell out of me. Here's an example, which generates feelings of embarrassment for me on behalf of the author and the students who thought this was a story worth repeating: In regard to Perini, a Contracts professor, a student advisor, Peter, said, "He's a great teacher...but not an easy one. When I was a 1L, the first person he called on was a national champion debater and Perini had him on his back in forty seconds." God. The overwhelming nerdiness of that sentence and the underlying sentiment makes me want to harm myself. A professor having more knowledge of a subject than a student on his first day of class is no more awe-inspiring than Michael Jordan dunking on a toddler.
2. Karen Sondergard, one of the author's section mates, cried at least daily, upping that count to 4 or 5 times a day during exam period. At some point, it's like, dude, get your shit together.
3. The desire for extended adolescence and avoiding responsibility belies many arguments about the nobility of law school. In discussing why he went to law school, a man in Turow's study group named Terry said, "I just tell myself, 'Hey, you didn't wanna be a grown-up. You're not ready yet. You wanna stay lose.'" This seems to be the thinking of an alarmingly high number of law students.
4. Complaints about professors requiring students to justify their positions during cold calls are childish and surprisingly anti-intellectual coming from Harvard Law students. Turow says that several classmates fumed because they were "forced to substitute dry reason for emotion," and weren't allowed to make arguments based on their "feelings" or compassion. Just a moment's thought reveals the absurdity of succumbing to feelings. Suppose Gina, one of Turow's section mates, strongly feels that capital punishment is wrong. I could merely respond that I equally strongly feel that capital punishment is a moral imperative for certain crimes. How then do we decide between the positions? Feelings are immeasurable, unquantifiable, and subjective. As Turow allows, "Many of the people with these complaints were straight out of college" and came of age in the 60s. If you want to bathe in emotion, that's fine, but don't conflate what you're doing with reason or intelligence, which are distinct concepts that law school is right to emphasize.
5. Some students literally audibly hissed at comments they didn't like during class. Ordinarily, according to Turow, "hissing had been reserved for fellow students, usually when the speaker's remarks were politically conservative. (Most of the hissers seemed to be leftwing.)" These brilliant minds, nimble, open to subtle reasoning and argumentation hissed at those with whom they disagreed in an attempt, I guess, to publicly shame dissenters into groupthink. I was astonished to read that this activity, so juvenile that I would be embarrassed to engage in it while attending grade school, was a rather routine practice at HLS.
6. Complaints against the Socratic Method are overblown and over-hyped to the point of being tired. There were too many anecdotes that Professor J did X, Y, and Z to unprepared student A. Of course, X, Y, and Z never actually happen to any known student, it was always a couple of years prior. Preparing for class and giving a good faith effort are perfect defenses to any dramatic attacks from a professor wielding the Socratic Method as the humiliation weapon of choice. Nonetheless, some of these brilliant minds, nimble, open to subtle reasoning and argumentation complained that it was "unfair and intimidating." Intimidating? Maybe. Unfair? Not at all. On exactly what grounds should it be considered unfair? Turow never tells you.
7. The rumors circulated about individuals are likewise absurd. Professor Morris, Turow's Civ Pro professor and recent HLS graduate at the top of his class, was verbally fellated by students given to hero worship. Turow writes, "About Morris, our talk was especially reverential, because he had so recently been through the law school himself and had left such an astonishing record. The most amazing tale of his prowess was a story, perhaps apocryphal, that in a single four-hour exam period he had written not only the test in the course, but also a term paper which he'd forgotten to do in the crush of Law Review duties. On both, he'd received the highest grade in the class." "Perhaps" it was apocryphal, Turow says. And right after that exam, Morris challenged Bill Brasky to a bare-knuckle boxing bout--and won; word is that he "had him on his back in forty seconds."
8. The amount of self-induced fear and pressure is way beyond absurd when you step back and realize that all law school requires is writing of exams and papers. That's it. No big deal. No wars, no torturing, no cancer or other illness to battle, no physical assaults, no deaths. Just academic work. No one cares nearly as much about it as the individual students.
9. If "One L" makes the people in law school sound superhuman, here's a nice dose of reality written in the Vanderbilt Law Review (gasp, Vanderbilt isn't even T14, but the author went to HLS so maybe it's acceptable?): http://www.averyindex.com/happy_healt...
The book is about people searching to find relevance. Here, the search takes place in the increasingly silly and mundane legal world. Many characters and some of Turow's points of emphasis strike me as self-indulgent and annoyingly self-satisfactory. The problem is the use of proxies for success as improper substitutes for the real thing. For example, high grades and Law Review participation are certainly impressive academic achievements. But the real achievements in law occur outside the classroom. They involve getting the innocent acquitted and the guilty convicted, or establishing the most economically efficient legal doctrine to enhance everyone's standard of living. Turow and his peers were thrilled to be admitted to Harvard because it is Harvard and it is exclusive. They desired high grades and invitation to Law Review because these were distinctions between themselves and others. They were BETTER than those who were not admitted to Harvard, who did not have high grades, and who were not on the Law Review. The motivating factor, by all appearances, is mere egotism, not a desire to do justice. There's no other way to explain the crippling fear of poor grades or mediocrity, as opposed to slight disappointment.
After all, there are no grand moral truths to defend in tax, secured transactions, or civil procedure. No flesh and blood human beings or clients are affected by a student's exam or Law Review submission. Instead, success in such courses goes to those most able to survive a war of attrition, who continue to read and plug away at the concepts when wiser souls would have long recognized the absurdity of the endeavor. Grade distributions from the first year classes of property, contracts, torts, civil procedure, and criminal law are useful to firms in sorting out the more talented from the less so in the narrow skill of writing an exam. It is useful in selecting Law Review members and clerkships, which are just extensions of the game, more hurdles to jump through, more feathers to scoop up in backbreaking fashion, more ends in themselves. These are the heights to which many aspire. This is the source of much misery and misdirected energy. This is so unnecessary.
In the end, the desire to be recognized, to stand out, to feel pleased with oneself and have one's efforts rewarded is completely understandable. Turow captures this idea perfectly. It's tragic that such feelings of security and success and personal worth stem from mastery of the Uniform Commercial Code. But perhaps this is no worse than the same feelings stemming from mastery of Donkey Kong (see the documentary King of Kong), the triple Salchow, or the four-seam fastball.
The accurate:
1. Law school is competitive. To be accepted into a top law school, one must have stellar academic credentials, which are basically defined by an LSAT score and undergraduate GPA. Success in both areas requires a combination of intelligence and diligence. Thus, even prior to the first day of class, a selection bias operates to create a group of competitive assholes. More than one of these people will have read hornbooks over the summer in preparation for the upcoming semester. All will have enjoyed academic success for the majority of their lives. And almost all will, to a greater or lesser degree, define their self worth through academic achievement. When grades are distributed on a strict curve, as they are in many law schools, there will necessarily be only a limited number of people at the top. This requires most of the class, formerly sure of themselves and proud of their abilities, to literally reevaluate their lives and their worth as they find themselves at the bottom or middle of the class for the first time.
2. The secret desire to do well and fear of failure when surrounded by such talented and motivated individuals is very real. People discover what they are made of in law school, and it can be scary. Turow captures this sentiment beautifully when describing a conversation he had with his peers about the Law Review. Some stated flatly they wanted to make it because of the honor. Turow initially said he did not want it and wouldn't participate in the 40-50 hours per week required to complete cite checking--the arduous and thankless task of verifying the accuracy of sources supporting propositions in published academic pieces. But when pressed, he admitted that he actually did want it and says, "I felt I'd done something precarious, something quite dangerous, the minute the words were out of my mouth." The danger was in allowing himself to acknowledge that he cared about something, that he had set a goal, even if subconsciously, that he probably would not be able to fulfill, and failing to fulfill that goal would be emotionally painful.
3. Economics is inextricably linked to the law. Legal doctrines, decisions, and arguments frequently draw on concepts from economics. Students who are well-versed in economics likely have an advantage in law school. Civil procedure's rules, cost/benefit analysis in administrative law and elsewhere, efficient breaches in contracts, the concept of negligence in torts, the Coase theorem in property, and many other areas of economics reveal themselves throughout nearly every law school course.
4. Grading in law school is imperfect. Most courses have just one final exam at the end of the term. Thus, a single exam between 3 and 8 hours determines one's grade for the course. There is insufficient time to deeply wrangle with the issues, and the process is more like regurgitation than analysis. Many believe the single exam system exists to minimize the amount of effort required by professors to determine grades. Others complain that their true ability, whatever that means, is not reflected in so short a time. Still others swear that preparation has no relation to grades. Despite these drawbacks, it's not at all clear there is a better alternative. As is frequently the case in life, it is easy to point out a problem and much more difficult to find a solution. However imperfect the single exam evaluation is, and setting aside that there is a great deal of variation between the abilities of students with similar grades, grades do serve a useful function by distinguishing. Effort and knowledge are rewarded, and there is a large difference between an A+ exam and a mediocre one.
5. Grades are hugely important. With 40,000 or more attorneys graduated every year in the United States, law firms, judges, and government agencies simply must use some method to whittle down applicants for associate positions. Grades are an easy way to do just that. Moreover, the grades do reveal something, whether it's effort, intelligence, or even a bit of luck.
6. The varying teaching styles described by Turow are spot on. The Socratic method, whereby professors "cold call" students or ask questions and delve into the responses to reveal underlying concepts and encourage critical thinking, is a staple of the first year legal curriculum. Some professors are better at it than others. Some, like Turow's Torts professor, will literally never make an affirmative statement, preferring instead to leave questions open. Others may use classes as their own ego-stroking sessions, never failing to achieve what seems like ersatz sexual gratification at the thought that they know more than their students. Occasionally, however, students are blessed with that rare professor who is both talented and comfortable in his own skin. He asks difficult and important questions to provoke new thoughts or refine arguments. He answers questions when needed and builds on established ground, climbing slowly to exciting new heights and intellectual playgrounds, inviting students to join him in the sandbox above.
7. The first year is exhausting. Reading cases and studying the law is like learning a second language, as Turow mentions. The concepts themselves are rarely difficult. Instead, the difficulty lies in the volume of material to be sifted and learning how to extract the pertinent from the extraneous. The difficulty lies in overcoming jargon and the barriers erected by annoying, petty people who intentionally obscure their ideas in unnecessarily complex language or sentence structure in order to give the illusion of brilliance. The worst offenders? Professors and judges, the very people from whom new students are forced to learn. Reading and understanding small numbers of pages requires large numbers of hours in the beginning because of the novelty of the endeavor. It is not an exaggeration that most of one's waking life is devoted to the study of the law during that first semester, but this is largely due to his own inefficiency. Not yet knowing what is important, dozens of hours are wasted on material that won't be covered on the final exam.
8. Law school is not about education. It is about playing a game. Turow refreshingly acknowledges that he chose his elective in the Spring based on his estimated time required for daily preparation and difficulty of the material. For most students, concerns like interesting material or actually learning something useful are a distant second to finding the path of least resistance. Students don't take the renowned prosecutor or scholar if he is a notoriously difficult grader; they'd much rather the unknown teacher who will go easier on them.
The absurd:
1. The insecurity masked as arrogance described by Turow is either unbearable or pitifully comedic depending on one's disposition. Those with truly brilliant minds, nimble, open to subtle reasoning and argumentation, have no need to assert it to others. People who are in constant competition or have an insatiable need to assert their superiority would not seem like fun chaps with whom to spend an evening, no matter how accomplished they may be. Their haughty self-righteousness--the author's own faults in this area seeped through more than once--bothered the hell out of me. Here's an example, which generates feelings of embarrassment for me on behalf of the author and the students who thought this was a story worth repeating: In regard to Perini, a Contracts professor, a student advisor, Peter, said, "He's a great teacher...but not an easy one. When I was a 1L, the first person he called on was a national champion debater and Perini had him on his back in forty seconds." God. The overwhelming nerdiness of that sentence and the underlying sentiment makes me want to harm myself. A professor having more knowledge of a subject than a student on his first day of class is no more awe-inspiring than Michael Jordan dunking on a toddler.
2. Karen Sondergard, one of the author's section mates, cried at least daily, upping that count to 4 or 5 times a day during exam period. At some point, it's like, dude, get your shit together.
3. The desire for extended adolescence and avoiding responsibility belies many arguments about the nobility of law school. In discussing why he went to law school, a man in Turow's study group named Terry said, "I just tell myself, 'Hey, you didn't wanna be a grown-up. You're not ready yet. You wanna stay lose.'" This seems to be the thinking of an alarmingly high number of law students.
4. Complaints about professors requiring students to justify their positions during cold calls are childish and surprisingly anti-intellectual coming from Harvard Law students. Turow says that several classmates fumed because they were "forced to substitute dry reason for emotion," and weren't allowed to make arguments based on their "feelings" or compassion. Just a moment's thought reveals the absurdity of succumbing to feelings. Suppose Gina, one of Turow's section mates, strongly feels that capital punishment is wrong. I could merely respond that I equally strongly feel that capital punishment is a moral imperative for certain crimes. How then do we decide between the positions? Feelings are immeasurable, unquantifiable, and subjective. As Turow allows, "Many of the people with these complaints were straight out of college" and came of age in the 60s. If you want to bathe in emotion, that's fine, but don't conflate what you're doing with reason or intelligence, which are distinct concepts that law school is right to emphasize.
5. Some students literally audibly hissed at comments they didn't like during class. Ordinarily, according to Turow, "hissing had been reserved for fellow students, usually when the speaker's remarks were politically conservative. (Most of the hissers seemed to be leftwing.)" These brilliant minds, nimble, open to subtle reasoning and argumentation hissed at those with whom they disagreed in an attempt, I guess, to publicly shame dissenters into groupthink. I was astonished to read that this activity, so juvenile that I would be embarrassed to engage in it while attending grade school, was a rather routine practice at HLS.
6. Complaints against the Socratic Method are overblown and over-hyped to the point of being tired. There were too many anecdotes that Professor J did X, Y, and Z to unprepared student A. Of course, X, Y, and Z never actually happen to any known student, it was always a couple of years prior. Preparing for class and giving a good faith effort are perfect defenses to any dramatic attacks from a professor wielding the Socratic Method as the humiliation weapon of choice. Nonetheless, some of these brilliant minds, nimble, open to subtle reasoning and argumentation complained that it was "unfair and intimidating." Intimidating? Maybe. Unfair? Not at all. On exactly what grounds should it be considered unfair? Turow never tells you.
7. The rumors circulated about individuals are likewise absurd. Professor Morris, Turow's Civ Pro professor and recent HLS graduate at the top of his class, was verbally fellated by students given to hero worship. Turow writes, "About Morris, our talk was especially reverential, because he had so recently been through the law school himself and had left such an astonishing record. The most amazing tale of his prowess was a story, perhaps apocryphal, that in a single four-hour exam period he had written not only the test in the course, but also a term paper which he'd forgotten to do in the crush of Law Review duties. On both, he'd received the highest grade in the class." "Perhaps" it was apocryphal, Turow says. And right after that exam, Morris challenged Bill Brasky to a bare-knuckle boxing bout--and won; word is that he "had him on his back in forty seconds."
8. The amount of self-induced fear and pressure is way beyond absurd when you step back and realize that all law school requires is writing of exams and papers. That's it. No big deal. No wars, no torturing, no cancer or other illness to battle, no physical assaults, no deaths. Just academic work. No one cares nearly as much about it as the individual students.
9. If "One L" makes the people in law school sound superhuman, here's a nice dose of reality written in the Vanderbilt Law Review (gasp, Vanderbilt isn't even T14, but the author went to HLS so maybe it's acceptable?): http://www.averyindex.com/happy_healt...
September 5, 2007
bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch
Please. This was tiresome. This guy seemed to think going to Harvard Law School was going to be like playing musical chairs, where everyone got a chair. I mean, not only is it law school, but it's Harvard. And he's shocked that everyone is overly competitive and a little bit whacked out because of it. Even though the class load was rough, he was still able to manage to get 6 hours of sleep most nights, and only pulled one all nighter (I know, Amy. I died a little inside when I read that too.)
Please. This was tiresome. This guy seemed to think going to Harvard Law School was going to be like playing musical chairs, where everyone got a chair. I mean, not only is it law school, but it's Harvard. And he's shocked that everyone is overly competitive and a little bit whacked out because of it. Even though the class load was rough, he was still able to manage to get 6 hours of sleep most nights, and only pulled one all nighter (I know, Amy. I died a little inside when I read that too.)
July 13, 2022
Scott Turow’s engrossing account of his first year at Harvard Law School. It is told in chronological order from first class to finals. There is a lot of drama in the competitiveness of the students - both the desire to support each other but also deal with pressure of grades, and the potential ramifications (Law Review, hiring decisions, etc.) Turow went to Harvard in the mid-1970s, so there have likely been changes since then, but he definitely has opinions on areas for improvement and the lack of effectiveness of the Socratic method. I am impressed by the author’s ability to work his magic on what could have been dry material. It is far from it. I flew through this book. I wish Turow would write more non-fiction. He has a knack for it. I enjoyed this even more than his fiction.
July 13, 2022
Book on CD read by Holter Graham
3.5***
Subtitle: The Turbulent True Story of a First Year at Harvard Law School
Turow wrote this memoir just after his first year of law school, and it was published before he had graduated. It has, apparently, become a “must-read” for those contemplating going to law school, and Turow gets many letters each year from readers who strongly identify with the incidents he relates.
I was very interested in the psychology of his experience. The stress – both external and self-imposed – was palpable. Turow and his fellow students found themselves in a completely different setting. All high-achievers when they arrived they were thrown into a competitive atmosphere where they felt pitted against one another, with the result that many of them began to seriously doubt themselves and became suspicious of their colleagues.
Holter Graham does a fine job of the audiobook, which was produced in 2005, some 28 years after the original book came out. This anniversary edition included additional material from Turow, which he read himself. Also, there was a bonus interview with the author that was quite interesting.
3.5***
Subtitle: The Turbulent True Story of a First Year at Harvard Law School
Turow wrote this memoir just after his first year of law school, and it was published before he had graduated. It has, apparently, become a “must-read” for those contemplating going to law school, and Turow gets many letters each year from readers who strongly identify with the incidents he relates.
I was very interested in the psychology of his experience. The stress – both external and self-imposed – was palpable. Turow and his fellow students found themselves in a completely different setting. All high-achievers when they arrived they were thrown into a competitive atmosphere where they felt pitted against one another, with the result that many of them began to seriously doubt themselves and became suspicious of their colleagues.
Holter Graham does a fine job of the audiobook, which was produced in 2005, some 28 years after the original book came out. This anniversary edition included additional material from Turow, which he read himself. Also, there was a bonus interview with the author that was quite interesting.
August 18, 2007
Before I started law school, I was repeatedly told to buy best selling author Turow’s version of his first year at Harvard “if for no other reason than everyone else there will have read it”.
Well, I’m one week into law school, and no one has mentioned it, thanks. Still, it wasn’t a totally waste of time. Reading how horrific Turow’s professors were to him steeled me for my first day of class. I was totally ready for someone to cry. No one did. I was almost disappointed at how nice all my professors are, then I came to my senses and was just fucking relieved.
Turow’s writing is punchy and enjoyable, and shit, the thing took no time at all to read. Though when I had drinks with a group of “older students” (by which the law school means anyone over 28) the book didn't come up.
May 13, 2019
Not really a fan. Problems:
- I thought Turow, in protecting the identities of many students and professors, distilled them all into way less interesting, one-note caricatures. The urbane, wealthy aristocrat who makes a diligent but unremarkable student. The nervous basket case who constantly sandbags himself yet gets great grades every time. The scrappy Italian kid from Jersey who balks at authority and likes to make his own way. The pretty blonde with crying outbursts whose frequency serves as a barometer for academic pressure. And so on. The professors were worse--the friendly young guy professor, the absent-minded but occasionally brilliant professor, and of course the bullying, intimidating but also undeniably engaging Contracts professor.
- Turow has it pretty good, yet he does an awful lot of complaining. He grouses about employment prospects for lawyers in 1975, which, while the legal market was certainly competitive, I don't think it was anything like as dismal as it is now. Plus, he mentions how steep the price is--3,000 dollars a year--several times, incredulously. Which makes the whole book seem hilariously dated. You know what that is in today's money? 13,000 bucks. 40,000 total for a degree. Yet tuition now at a top school is more like 50,000...per year. Add in living expenses in an area like Boston and you are looking at a quarter million dollars for a JD, if you are unfortunate enough to have to pay sticker price. That's after probably spending something similar during undergrad. So law school is a much dicier proposition now than it was then. End rant.
- I do see how egos and pressure can make law school more competitive than it has to be, and manufacture a lot of artificial work in addition. But weirdly, Turow didn't make the work seem that hard. I expected to come away happy that I would never attend Harvard, not perplexed at the big deal everyone seemed to like to make out of a work load that didn't seem out of control.
- I thought Turow, in protecting the identities of many students and professors, distilled them all into way less interesting, one-note caricatures. The urbane, wealthy aristocrat who makes a diligent but unremarkable student. The nervous basket case who constantly sandbags himself yet gets great grades every time. The scrappy Italian kid from Jersey who balks at authority and likes to make his own way. The pretty blonde with crying outbursts whose frequency serves as a barometer for academic pressure. And so on. The professors were worse--the friendly young guy professor, the absent-minded but occasionally brilliant professor, and of course the bullying, intimidating but also undeniably engaging Contracts professor.
- Turow has it pretty good, yet he does an awful lot of complaining. He grouses about employment prospects for lawyers in 1975, which, while the legal market was certainly competitive, I don't think it was anything like as dismal as it is now. Plus, he mentions how steep the price is--3,000 dollars a year--several times, incredulously. Which makes the whole book seem hilariously dated. You know what that is in today's money? 13,000 bucks. 40,000 total for a degree. Yet tuition now at a top school is more like 50,000...per year. Add in living expenses in an area like Boston and you are looking at a quarter million dollars for a JD, if you are unfortunate enough to have to pay sticker price. That's after probably spending something similar during undergrad. So law school is a much dicier proposition now than it was then. End rant.
- I do see how egos and pressure can make law school more competitive than it has to be, and manufacture a lot of artificial work in addition. But weirdly, Turow didn't make the work seem that hard. I expected to come away happy that I would never attend Harvard, not perplexed at the big deal everyone seemed to like to make out of a work load that didn't seem out of control.
April 29, 2008
This book is fine, except how people keep insisting it has anything to do with the actual common experience of law school. A good read for anyone who does not want to go to law school, who has already gone to law school and wants to read a book that does not correspond in any way with their own experiences, those lawyers who persist in thinking that law is "really hard" and not just a terminal degree for the aimlessly clever, or those who will find confirmation of their existing prejudices about lawyers as snakes, demons or robots and law students as the larval forms thereof.
This book would be unremarkable and harmless - I enjoyed reading it and would recommend it - were it not for the insistence by REAL LIVE LAWYERS who should know better to continue prodding college students into reading this book as part of their decision making process. Please, law students keep away or, at the least, don't treat this book as any true statement of the social or intellectual experience of law school.
This book would be unremarkable and harmless - I enjoyed reading it and would recommend it - were it not for the insistence by REAL LIVE LAWYERS who should know better to continue prodding college students into reading this book as part of their decision making process. Please, law students keep away or, at the least, don't treat this book as any true statement of the social or intellectual experience of law school.
August 9, 2021
It is profoundly ironic and just-about-right that most people who will study law and become lawyers read “One L” BEFORE their first year of law school. Before they know anything about what the book references. Before they can relate. Before all the nuances and insights have any real meaning. This book is not at all a guide, and so it is of very limited utility when it is read in advance instead of in reflection. But law students simply cannot help themselves. In anticipating and trying to prepare for the tumultuous first year, most readers are already, subconsciously or not, engaging in a kind of slow-motion oneupmanship. In some sense, the book describes and critiques the natural inclinations displayed by the very people most often reading it.
I (solely by coincidence) did not read “One L” until I had completely finished my 1L year. I started the book one hour after I hit send on the final assignment for NLaw’s Write-On. Immediately, I felt like I was being given the hug I had not known I needed. Turow writes with such honesty and frankness, and only a very small and tasteful dose of rose-tinted-glasses syndrome, that one is sometimes left wondering why he didn’t abandon the law for a career as a psychologist.
I highly recommend that absolutely no one reads One L before starting law school; it would seem overwrought, melodramatic, and serious in ways that are crude and self-important. I also highly recommend that absolutely everyone reads One L after their first year. In doing so, I realized that the neuroses and paranoia, the complex emotional cocktail of competitiveness, pride, envy, forced collaboration, genuine companionship, shame, and self-effacing identity crisis that Turow puts under the microscope are common to first year students at American law schools and have not evolved substantially since the mid 1970s (by Turow’s estimation, since the late 1880s). The sense of connection I feel now, after peering into Turow’s mind and heart, flows from his sheer vulnerability, an aspect of humans that is sometimes hard to come by at law school, but, when found, is always the diamond in the rough that makes the whole experience bearable.
I (solely by coincidence) did not read “One L” until I had completely finished my 1L year. I started the book one hour after I hit send on the final assignment for NLaw’s Write-On. Immediately, I felt like I was being given the hug I had not known I needed. Turow writes with such honesty and frankness, and only a very small and tasteful dose of rose-tinted-glasses syndrome, that one is sometimes left wondering why he didn’t abandon the law for a career as a psychologist.
I highly recommend that absolutely no one reads One L before starting law school; it would seem overwrought, melodramatic, and serious in ways that are crude and self-important. I also highly recommend that absolutely everyone reads One L after their first year. In doing so, I realized that the neuroses and paranoia, the complex emotional cocktail of competitiveness, pride, envy, forced collaboration, genuine companionship, shame, and self-effacing identity crisis that Turow puts under the microscope are common to first year students at American law schools and have not evolved substantially since the mid 1970s (by Turow’s estimation, since the late 1880s). The sense of connection I feel now, after peering into Turow’s mind and heart, flows from his sheer vulnerability, an aspect of humans that is sometimes hard to come by at law school, but, when found, is always the diamond in the rough that makes the whole experience bearable.
April 24, 2008
Not that I was ever considering going to law school, but Scott Turow's account of his time as a "One L" at Harvard Law School in 1976 squashed that inkling of mine that it might be fun to try.
It's a well-written book, though, and certainly a must for anyone headed down that path. Turow doesn't sugarcoat any of it -- the unyielding professors, the cattiness between students. And just because the story itself is 30 years old doesn't mean it isn't valid: Very few law schools have changed dramatically since then.
My favorite quote came at the end:
"I want the advantage," I said. "I want the competitive advantage. I don't give a damn about anybody else. I want to do better than them."
[...]
It took me awhile to believe I had actually said that. I told myself I was kidding. I told myself that I had said that to shock Terry and Stephen. But I knew better. What had been suppressed all year was in the open now.
[...]
I had not been talking about any innocent striving to achieve. There had been murder in my voice. And what were the stakes? The difference between a B-plus and a B? This was supposed to be education -- a humane, cooperative enterprise.
It's a well-written book, though, and certainly a must for anyone headed down that path. Turow doesn't sugarcoat any of it -- the unyielding professors, the cattiness between students. And just because the story itself is 30 years old doesn't mean it isn't valid: Very few law schools have changed dramatically since then.
My favorite quote came at the end:
"I want the advantage," I said. "I want the competitive advantage. I don't give a damn about anybody else. I want to do better than them."
[...]
It took me awhile to believe I had actually said that. I told myself I was kidding. I told myself that I had said that to shock Terry and Stephen. But I knew better. What had been suppressed all year was in the open now.
[...]
I had not been talking about any innocent striving to achieve. There had been murder in my voice. And what were the stakes? The difference between a B-plus and a B? This was supposed to be education -- a humane, cooperative enterprise.
September 2, 2011
The traumatic experiences of Scott Turow at Harvard veneered in not-so subtle fiction. Read it years ago and loved it. My brother, who went to Harvard Law School says it's very true to reality. I was reminded or it by a scene from The Abbey in which Detective Sergeant Ashraf Rashid's cell phone goes off during law class. The professor in The Abbey, who bears a likeness to One L's Professor Perini/Kingsfield admonishes
Scene from The Abbey: “ 'And I’m sorry we allowed a clearly unqualified applicant into this law school based on some supposed community service.' My nails bit into my palms. I shook my head and started gathering my notebooks. 'Did I pick up your daughter for solicitation or something? Or are you an asshole to everybody?' I didn’t think there was going to be any oxygen left in the room after the collective intake. That’s probably going to hurt my grade."
Scene from The Abbey: “ 'And I’m sorry we allowed a clearly unqualified applicant into this law school based on some supposed community service.' My nails bit into my palms. I shook my head and started gathering my notebooks. 'Did I pick up your daughter for solicitation or something? Or are you an asshole to everybody?' I didn’t think there was going to be any oxygen left in the room after the collective intake. That’s probably going to hurt my grade."
July 16, 2010
Dear Dad,
Thanks for giving me One L to read! You rarely impress upon me the need to read any one book in particular, so when you put this book in my hands I actually put down the book I had recently started and instantly began devouring Turow’s memoir about his first year of law school. I don’t do that often. It stresses me out to put a book aside unfinished in favor of another book (which is also ironic considering the content of One L — it’s all about stress!). One L was also a little unusual for me because it’s an older book — first published in 1977. I typically don’t read books written between 1955 and 2000, not as a matter of strategy but rather an accident of practice.
I had a lot of thoughts about this book! I read this book slowly because I was really paying a lot of attention, stopping to think about it, stopping to discuss it, before starting a new page. I think Turow fully realizes all of his goals in this memoir — he thoroughly conveys the rigors, terrors, and hysteria of his first year at Harvard Law School. Beyond simply relating his experience, Turow immerses his reader in the experience of law school. He doesn’t candy-coat it; he tells it all — good, bad, and neurotic.
Aside from pondering Turow’s experience of law school, I also found myself thinking about why you put this book in my hands. Probably so I would understand what you, too, experienced when you were in law school. I’ve always been proud to say my dad is an attorney. In my little kid (and big kid) brain, this meant you were smart. And that meant that I could be smart, too. But I have a whole new respect for those smarts after reading Turow’s account of the demands — both intellectual and emotional — of law school.
You probably also gave me this book to read because you know that I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer — that I still think about being a lawyer from time to time. This book gave me a lot to think about. I’ve always figured that I have the rational mind to think through legal problems, and I love speaking and writing (and noble causes). So I’d be a great lawyer, right? After One L, I don’t know. It’s possible if not probable that, indeed, I shouldn’t have been a lawyer after all! There are a lot of still-appealing factors. I think the mental exercises are fascinating. I think reasoning out the law based on precedents that often contradict one another is a stimulating way to spend time. I love researching. I love writing. However, throughout One L, Turow emphasizes “learning to love the law”. .. and I don’t know that I ever would. Not in that way. Actually, I love education! Thinking through educational issues excites me and stimulates my mind. I am interested to talk law, but I adore talking school. For maybe the first time in my life, reading One L gave me a real sense that I didn’t somehow miss my legal calling … however alluring I might find it.
Thanks for a great read, Dad. It made me see your legal education in an entirely different light.
Love,
Rebekah
Thanks for giving me One L to read! You rarely impress upon me the need to read any one book in particular, so when you put this book in my hands I actually put down the book I had recently started and instantly began devouring Turow’s memoir about his first year of law school. I don’t do that often. It stresses me out to put a book aside unfinished in favor of another book (which is also ironic considering the content of One L — it’s all about stress!). One L was also a little unusual for me because it’s an older book — first published in 1977. I typically don’t read books written between 1955 and 2000, not as a matter of strategy but rather an accident of practice.
I had a lot of thoughts about this book! I read this book slowly because I was really paying a lot of attention, stopping to think about it, stopping to discuss it, before starting a new page. I think Turow fully realizes all of his goals in this memoir — he thoroughly conveys the rigors, terrors, and hysteria of his first year at Harvard Law School. Beyond simply relating his experience, Turow immerses his reader in the experience of law school. He doesn’t candy-coat it; he tells it all — good, bad, and neurotic.
Aside from pondering Turow’s experience of law school, I also found myself thinking about why you put this book in my hands. Probably so I would understand what you, too, experienced when you were in law school. I’ve always been proud to say my dad is an attorney. In my little kid (and big kid) brain, this meant you were smart. And that meant that I could be smart, too. But I have a whole new respect for those smarts after reading Turow’s account of the demands — both intellectual and emotional — of law school.
You probably also gave me this book to read because you know that I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer — that I still think about being a lawyer from time to time. This book gave me a lot to think about. I’ve always figured that I have the rational mind to think through legal problems, and I love speaking and writing (and noble causes). So I’d be a great lawyer, right? After One L, I don’t know. It’s possible if not probable that, indeed, I shouldn’t have been a lawyer after all! There are a lot of still-appealing factors. I think the mental exercises are fascinating. I think reasoning out the law based on precedents that often contradict one another is a stimulating way to spend time. I love researching. I love writing. However, throughout One L, Turow emphasizes “learning to love the law”. .. and I don’t know that I ever would. Not in that way. Actually, I love education! Thinking through educational issues excites me and stimulates my mind. I am interested to talk law, but I adore talking school. For maybe the first time in my life, reading One L gave me a real sense that I didn’t somehow miss my legal calling … however alluring I might find it.
Thanks for a great read, Dad. It made me see your legal education in an entirely different light.
Love,
Rebekah
August 29, 2007
Now, granted, I didn't go to Harvard Law, but I DID attend a fairly high ranked law school and, from my experience, Turow protests FAR too much. It makes for a good story, but oh, the drama! I only wish that William and Mary had been that exciting and filled with academic intrigue!
June 10, 2016
Must disagree with the jacket/ GoodReads blurb, "entirely true." NOT according to one of his undergrad professors, Theodore Baird, who wondered how Turow could present himself as such a blank slate upon arriving at Harvard Law, when he had endured the undergrad assault of Baird's Amherst College. But of course, it makes a better story about only the Law School if the naive youth arrives so unprepared for the Big Leagues.
But he'd been in the Big Leagues for four years prior: the League that produced Robert Fagles, Richard Wilbur, James Merrill, William Pritchard, the League started by Robert Frost and Emily Dickinson.
Perhaps the Bildungsroman like this requires mental rags to riches. It does read well, as if "entirely true." But isn't that the role of Fiction? I always told my classes that if a film claimed to be based on a True Story, it was far from it, because if it really was such, it would claim the Opposite: "None of the characters are based on real people…" in order to avoid lawsuits.
But he'd been in the Big Leagues for four years prior: the League that produced Robert Fagles, Richard Wilbur, James Merrill, William Pritchard, the League started by Robert Frost and Emily Dickinson.
Perhaps the Bildungsroman like this requires mental rags to riches. It does read well, as if "entirely true." But isn't that the role of Fiction? I always told my classes that if a film claimed to be based on a True Story, it was far from it, because if it really was such, it would claim the Opposite: "None of the characters are based on real people…" in order to avoid lawsuits.
July 8, 2019
I'm hesitant about writing a review of this before completing my own 1L. I think the most I can say is that you have to respect how unvarnished and detailed it is, but I didn't necessarily enjoy reading it.
Post-2L Update: This is more useful as a scare-you-straight book than as a even-handed introduction to an average law school experience.
Post-2L Update: This is more useful as a scare-you-straight book than as a even-handed introduction to an average law school experience.
October 4, 2025
i read this book bc my grandfather gave it to me (he gave me lots of books, but this one felt important)
“it was a race to squeeze the most out of every day. i was always looking at my watch.” - sums it all up.
law school is the hardest thing i’ve ever done. i also love law school. it feels hard to convey this to people in my life who haven’t gone through it, and i think this book does a pretty good job of letting outsiders see how awfully wonderful law school is.
i read 85% of this before starting law school and (as i might have predicated based on that first chunk) i finished the last 15% a month and a half later, or 6 weeks into law school.
its interesting to observe how the curriculum has changed for the better, but the outside environment of law school has perhaps changed for the worse.
i think the book overstates how frightening law school is (or, at least, law school has gotten a bit nicer since the 1970s). this is actually is probably an objective fact, as there as been substantial reforms to the way the law has been taught in this country. the book is also outdated, of course. almost no attention is given to the frenzy that is big law recruiting, the hurdles students must overcome to merely participate in extracurriculars, the unbelievably competitive application process (for which a book could be written about alone), the astounding (relative to other professional-degree industries) pay disparities between the private and public sector, and nepotism in the field… just to name a few. that’s because all of these issues have increased or appeared since turow went to law school almost 50 years ago.
i’m curious if the book is as universal (as turow claims it to be) across all law schools (not just time periods)… are less “elite” law schools as competitive? i’m inclined to think not. i’m curious.
i appreciated turow’s direct diary entries — it reminded me of the importance of journaling while i’m on this crazy journey for the next three years (which, of course, i haven’t had time for).
i recommend this book to people starting law school, but it’s by no means a necessity (which some say it is). don’t let the book frighten you (it did, for me, a bit!). but do let it remind you of how important humility is, how important it is to not let law school and the legal world strip you of your values and beliefs. turow’s words have helped remind me of that as i’ve begun my own journey.
i think this book shines in its characterization of law students, which probably hasn’t changed since the beginning of legal education in the united states. ambitious, overly-hardworking, passionate, competitive, go-getters… to name a few attributes. BUT i find a lot more joy in my classmates (so far) than he seems to have. i recognize these qualities in them as assets, rather than demoralizing features. every day i walk into school intimidated, but leave inspired. that’s pretty cool. law school is pretty cool. i’m already so much smarter and knowledgeable for it.
“it was a race to squeeze the most out of every day. i was always looking at my watch.” - sums it all up.
law school is the hardest thing i’ve ever done. i also love law school. it feels hard to convey this to people in my life who haven’t gone through it, and i think this book does a pretty good job of letting outsiders see how awfully wonderful law school is.
i read 85% of this before starting law school and (as i might have predicated based on that first chunk) i finished the last 15% a month and a half later, or 6 weeks into law school.
its interesting to observe how the curriculum has changed for the better, but the outside environment of law school has perhaps changed for the worse.
i think the book overstates how frightening law school is (or, at least, law school has gotten a bit nicer since the 1970s). this is actually is probably an objective fact, as there as been substantial reforms to the way the law has been taught in this country. the book is also outdated, of course. almost no attention is given to the frenzy that is big law recruiting, the hurdles students must overcome to merely participate in extracurriculars, the unbelievably competitive application process (for which a book could be written about alone), the astounding (relative to other professional-degree industries) pay disparities between the private and public sector, and nepotism in the field… just to name a few. that’s because all of these issues have increased or appeared since turow went to law school almost 50 years ago.
i’m curious if the book is as universal (as turow claims it to be) across all law schools (not just time periods)… are less “elite” law schools as competitive? i’m inclined to think not. i’m curious.
i appreciated turow’s direct diary entries — it reminded me of the importance of journaling while i’m on this crazy journey for the next three years (which, of course, i haven’t had time for).
i recommend this book to people starting law school, but it’s by no means a necessity (which some say it is). don’t let the book frighten you (it did, for me, a bit!). but do let it remind you of how important humility is, how important it is to not let law school and the legal world strip you of your values and beliefs. turow’s words have helped remind me of that as i’ve begun my own journey.
i think this book shines in its characterization of law students, which probably hasn’t changed since the beginning of legal education in the united states. ambitious, overly-hardworking, passionate, competitive, go-getters… to name a few attributes. BUT i find a lot more joy in my classmates (so far) than he seems to have. i recognize these qualities in them as assets, rather than demoralizing features. every day i walk into school intimidated, but leave inspired. that’s pretty cool. law school is pretty cool. i’m already so much smarter and knowledgeable for it.
June 4, 2011
I never, ever had a desire to go to law school, but for some reason this book called me to it. I heard it mentioned somewhere and then kept running into it at the store where I work. It was on sale for $3.99, so that was another bonus. I haven't read any of Turow's legal thrillers, yet, but I may now. One L is the story of Turow's first year at Harvard Law School in 1977. He covers the emotional ups and downs of that first year and how and why he and his peers changed for the better and how some became jaded. Turow had a contract to write the book before he started his first year and kept a journal in which he wrote several times a week throughout the year. This is not a how to make it through law school book. Its more about the emotional roller coaster ride that one goes through when being initiated into a new system (for me, it read like a mash up between my experience of Marine Corps boot camp and graduate school in literature). Although the book doesn't seem dated in any outward sense, other than Turow's use of an electric typewriter when writing exams, it does seem a little dated in that I think first year law students--first year anythings--are better prepared now than people were in the 1970s and earlier. Why? Because people talk more about their experiences and there are many more resources out there to consult, particularly the internet. My sister and I have been struck by the difference in approach from how we thought about college and went about applying to college and how her eldest child is being groomed by teachers for college as a sophomore in high school. I couldn't help think of this difference while reading One L and thinking that people entering Harvard Law cannot possibly be as naive as Turow and his group were. Still, I think what keeps this book fresh is its emphasis on the emotional experience of going through such an intense initiation into a new language, a new way of thinking, and a new profession with the added stress of being at THE law school, Harvard. I image that even if today's One L aren't as naive, they still experience the same mind fuck that comes with indoctrination into a highly competitive and relatively closed society.
February 1, 2021
"The turbulent true story of a first year at Harvard Law School," as my copy's cover blurb has it. Having spent time teaching creative writing, the author finds himself entering law school in 1975, a little later than most of his age cohort. The book was written immediately after his first year and published in 1977 (and has remained in print ever since, I believe), so, as he says, it's a look at the first-year law school experience that is raw and unmellowed by time. At Harvard, he finds a high standard of excellence, arrogant professors, "a kind of divine faith in the place and its inhabitants," grade-obsessed students, a high degree of competitiveness, and constant anxiety. Studying law, forming study groups, and talking about classes take up literally all his waking hours.
I'd say that this is one of the best memoirs of its kind. It shows how a neophyte to the law begins to approach the abstruse and practically foreign language of the legal code, and only through assiduous toil does he come to gradually understand it. But beyond the nuts and bolts of a legal education, Turow discusses how Harvard Law School succeeds and fails. He wants answers to bigger questions about ethics, the paradoxes of the law, about money and values, and feels his education comes up short. He worries he and his fellow students are being taught to be test-takers and memorizers rather than attorneys who work to represent people. He also describes in brutal honesty the toll it took on his health, mind, and marriage. He was told that Harvard Law School was where he would "meet his enemy," and it turns out he does, and his enemy is the grade-grubbing, advantage-taking person he would rather not be. At the end his call for a change in how law is taught is eloquent and even moving; but not being in that world, I have no idea if any of the changes came to be. One amusing thing to note is the prices, which Turow notes with some alarm; they're positively charming now. At one point he notes that he spent nearly one hundred dollars on extra books!
I'd say that this is one of the best memoirs of its kind. It shows how a neophyte to the law begins to approach the abstruse and practically foreign language of the legal code, and only through assiduous toil does he come to gradually understand it. But beyond the nuts and bolts of a legal education, Turow discusses how Harvard Law School succeeds and fails. He wants answers to bigger questions about ethics, the paradoxes of the law, about money and values, and feels his education comes up short. He worries he and his fellow students are being taught to be test-takers and memorizers rather than attorneys who work to represent people. He also describes in brutal honesty the toll it took on his health, mind, and marriage. He was told that Harvard Law School was where he would "meet his enemy," and it turns out he does, and his enemy is the grade-grubbing, advantage-taking person he would rather not be. At the end his call for a change in how law is taught is eloquent and even moving; but not being in that world, I have no idea if any of the changes came to be. One amusing thing to note is the prices, which Turow notes with some alarm; they're positively charming now. At one point he notes that he spent nearly one hundred dollars on extra books!
September 3, 2020
Mrs. Turow is the real MVP.
March 26, 2024
I wish that I read this sooner. It was exactly how my experience at law school has been. It was comforting to know the law school experience is somewhat universal - from the intensity of the assignments to your emotional state. I would recommend this to anyone starting law school or currently in their first year of law school looking for some validation that it is as bad as it feels but also that it will be okay.
Read
August 11, 2024I think I'm glad I read this but also I'm scared
May 28, 2024
The most insane part of this story is when he bought a textbook for six dollars
July 30, 2021
F sounds hard
April 7, 2009
The single most read book by people contemplating law school. There are clear pros and cons to this. On the pro side, Turow is a good writer who structures even this supposed transcript of his memoir with a fair amount of novelistic suspense. Our hero must confront good and evil personified by his various professors (seriously, there are times when you'd think you were reading Harry Potter). Ultimately, as in a good modern novel, he must face the true nemesis that lies within (his capacity to cross over to the dark side and become an evil lawyer). Beyond entertainment, it does gently introduce the reader to the basic scene of law school with many of its organizing concepts (the curriculum, the socratic method, moot court, exam structure, etc.) and regalia (hornbooks, briefs, outlines).
However, I've already heard (and believe me, I haven't been looking all that hard) much reaction to this book as painting a fairly extreme picture of Law School that just doesn't accurately describe most of the contemporary reality. Like "The Paper Chase" (the film most recommended to would-be law students), it is set in the sacred halls of Harvard Law School, where a very particular prestige-borne madness prevails. More fundamentally, it was written 30 years ago, and at a time Turow himself acknowledges as one of tense generational conflict. He suggests that it was in the wake of Watergate that lawyers suddenly took a massive plunge in the estimation of their fellow Americans, such that even beginning law students were anxious not to replicate the degraded culture of their predecessors. Inevitably, this generated a lot of conflict with the professoriate, which appears in Turow's book as deeply divided between conservative old guard who considered humiliation a basic teaching tool and younger faculty who fashioned themselves progressives. The kind of politicization of the classroom that added considerably to Turow's anxiety and self-doubt was a product of the times. I'm sure there are new campus politics now, but not the ones depicted in "One L."
Above all, the general consensus I've seen is that Law School is just not so traumatic anymore. Which is not to say that the madness over prestige, getting top grades, making law review and all the rest have gone away. After all, those things have an economic basis in the corporate law firms themselves. Maybe this recession will change the field somehow...
However, I've already heard (and believe me, I haven't been looking all that hard) much reaction to this book as painting a fairly extreme picture of Law School that just doesn't accurately describe most of the contemporary reality. Like "The Paper Chase" (the film most recommended to would-be law students), it is set in the sacred halls of Harvard Law School, where a very particular prestige-borne madness prevails. More fundamentally, it was written 30 years ago, and at a time Turow himself acknowledges as one of tense generational conflict. He suggests that it was in the wake of Watergate that lawyers suddenly took a massive plunge in the estimation of their fellow Americans, such that even beginning law students were anxious not to replicate the degraded culture of their predecessors. Inevitably, this generated a lot of conflict with the professoriate, which appears in Turow's book as deeply divided between conservative old guard who considered humiliation a basic teaching tool and younger faculty who fashioned themselves progressives. The kind of politicization of the classroom that added considerably to Turow's anxiety and self-doubt was a product of the times. I'm sure there are new campus politics now, but not the ones depicted in "One L."
Above all, the general consensus I've seen is that Law School is just not so traumatic anymore. Which is not to say that the madness over prestige, getting top grades, making law review and all the rest have gone away. After all, those things have an economic basis in the corporate law firms themselves. Maybe this recession will change the field somehow...
October 23, 2017
Great bit of non-fiction from Scott Turow. I had just read Ultimate Punishment: A Lawyer's Reflections on Dealing with the Death Penaltyand was looking for more non-fiction from him, so I went with his classic.
Great book.
In short, here are my observations:
• What can get you through law school? 1) A love of the law, like Mr. Turow. 2) A prodigious amount of talent, like some of his classmates. 3) A near-sociopathic study habit, like one of his classmates who didn’t talk to anyone while he was studying, or even acknowledge them – it’s a funny scene. 4) A little bit of all of the above!
• One great scene has one of his favorite professors say ‘You will all wield enormous power, more than you realize. You will be able to destroy people’s lives. I hope you use your power to help people, but I know that this is much harder.”
• Another insight is about the law school Socratic method – where a teacher stands a student up and throws question after question at them in front of their classmates. Though it is much-maligned, it is interesting how students report that facing a judge is easier after that. It shows that sometimes in our lives we face situations that we don’t like – that make things easier later on. Comedians are horrible at mocking eachother relentlessly – that makes hecklers easier. Drill sergeants treat their cadets like dirt, and that may save their lives one day in combat.
Though man – this style of teaching does not seem fun.
• One final insight shows the difference between 1Ls and 2Ls. The former work at a feverish pace, but also work incorrectly. Turow spends three days cramming before a test and then little of the material is on the test. He worries about the Socratic stand ups when in reality, it is not that big of a deal in 2nd year. Face it and move on.
Regardless, great tale. I haven’t read any of Turow’s fiction, but after reading these two non-fiction books – I can imagine they are great!
Great book.
In short, here are my observations:
• What can get you through law school? 1) A love of the law, like Mr. Turow. 2) A prodigious amount of talent, like some of his classmates. 3) A near-sociopathic study habit, like one of his classmates who didn’t talk to anyone while he was studying, or even acknowledge them – it’s a funny scene. 4) A little bit of all of the above!
• One great scene has one of his favorite professors say ‘You will all wield enormous power, more than you realize. You will be able to destroy people’s lives. I hope you use your power to help people, but I know that this is much harder.”
• Another insight is about the law school Socratic method – where a teacher stands a student up and throws question after question at them in front of their classmates. Though it is much-maligned, it is interesting how students report that facing a judge is easier after that. It shows that sometimes in our lives we face situations that we don’t like – that make things easier later on. Comedians are horrible at mocking eachother relentlessly – that makes hecklers easier. Drill sergeants treat their cadets like dirt, and that may save their lives one day in combat.
Though man – this style of teaching does not seem fun.
• One final insight shows the difference between 1Ls and 2Ls. The former work at a feverish pace, but also work incorrectly. Turow spends three days cramming before a test and then little of the material is on the test. He worries about the Socratic stand ups when in reality, it is not that big of a deal in 2nd year. Face it and move on.
Regardless, great tale. I haven’t read any of Turow’s fiction, but after reading these two non-fiction books – I can imagine they are great!
December 29, 2023
This is the second time I have read this book. It was definitely better the second time than it was the first. The main take away for anybody taking his or her studies seriously is to be the quiet one that gets all the work done without complaining. All the loud mouths in this book did not achieve what they set out to achieve. The quiet ones were the ones with the highest grades and best results. The loud mouth complainers make all the noise, but the quiet hardworking people produce all the results.
September 4, 2015
The one thing that I got form this book is that I'm very glad that I'm not a lawyer or ever contemplated law school. Even though this book is decades old, the systems still sound similar, the environment doesn't seem like one that is conductive to learning. I really hated how by the end it seemed like everyone was happy when someone else failed. Not sure how that could possibly build an environment where you have a good support system when you need one the most.
January 23, 2016
In the 1970s, Scott Turow left a job teaching English at Stanford University, turned down a faculty position at another university, and entered Harvard Law School where he encountered terror, depression, grinding competition, and, occasionally, mass hysteria. After living with my husband through his three years of law school, I concluded that continuing to teach history and political science at the college level was just fine with me. And I haven't regretted it for a minute.
March 3, 2008
Definately an accurate portrayal of that harrowing first year of law school. Read it BEFORE you decide to go!
July 30, 2023
Four stars for making me think more deeply about a subject that has interested me. As many others also do, I like reading legal thrillers, watching television shows about lawyers, and have a general interest in the courts and the impact of lawmaking on our everyday lives. The author attended law school in a time period I could relate to so reading of his experience was interesting from that (sometimes quite dated) perspective. I could picture the writing of this book benefitting from his journaling with regular jotting down of details and recall of a memorable experience.
I found myself comparing the law and dynamics of the classroom Turow portrays from the mid-1970's to probable changes since and was surprised to learn that being a lawyer was not the real focus of law school which focuses on making legal scholars. This did explain something I often wondered about; the number of people that never practice law after graduating law school appears to be high.
Other legal fiction, and television show the first years in law practice after law school as more of the same frenetic pace and cut-throat dynamic portrayed here; again, interesting to contemplate.
I found myself comparing the law and dynamics of the classroom Turow portrays from the mid-1970's to probable changes since and was surprised to learn that being a lawyer was not the real focus of law school which focuses on making legal scholars. This did explain something I often wondered about; the number of people that never practice law after graduating law school appears to be high.
Other legal fiction, and television show the first years in law practice after law school as more of the same frenetic pace and cut-throat dynamic portrayed here; again, interesting to contemplate.
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