I read this the summer before starting law school, and thought pretty highly of it, probably because I thought it represented most students' experiences (and it scared me). Reread it this summer, and my opinion totally changed. Turow is a good writer, but this was extremely whiny and not at all representative of most law schools (according to my own experience + the experiences of friends at schools like Harvard and U of T, all of which are pretty competitive). I know I'm not finished my degree, but so far, in my experience, people are actually helpful and not trying to stab you in the back, and professors are not trying to publicly embarrass you, which apparently are both things that everyone is out to do according to Turow. On a second read, this all just sounded very whiny and not at all realistic. Law school is definitely difficult but it is not like this (though, admittedly, I am not going to Harvard).

F sounds hard

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.

I’ve read this book several times before but it’s been at least a decade since my last reading. I saw this book at our rented beach house and had a craving to revisit it - enjoyed it as much as ever!

Reminded me of being in tenth grade, believing that the microscopic twists and turns of my social life -- who liked whom, who didn't study for the test, etc -- would have been great source material for a novel. (They wouldn't have.) Still, Turow is capable of some elegant prose.

One L was certainly not a boring read. Turow has a command of the English language that takes a common scene and elevates it to epic proportions. His analogies are precise (pencils in cases like arrows in a quiver), his descriptions vivid, and he possesses an extensive vocabulary (which had me reaching for a dictionary). All of these characteristics give One L a solid foundation as a novel.

Much like Turow, I am interested in pursuing law. Unsure of where the next chapter in life will take me, I was recommended this book to gain insight into the experience of a first-year law student, or "One L." The book provided me with valuable background information. However, after a while, many of the topics began to feel repetitive. Discussions on the pedagogy of law school, the ideal law school environment, and the ethical pitfalls of the profession were prevalent throughout the book. Given the context of his writing—as a student at the school—I understand this. However, in my opinion, there was a lot of excess and repetition. Turow's emotions towards his professors and Harvard Law School seem to ebb and flow like ocean tides every 20-30 pages. Some of the dialogue seems unrealistic (I have never met someone, especially a highly motivated individual, who sincerely wished for lower grades on a test. However, Stephen does here).

Part of the reason for my lukewarm experience with One L might stem from a mindset more aligned with reading fiction novels than a non-fiction account of his experience. By no means do I regret reading this book. It kept me turning the pages, informed me about what law school might entail, and laid out solid pedagogical arguments about the law school curriculum as a whole. I would recommend this book to anyone interested in law school specifically. To very few others would I immediately say this is an essential read. But it was solid.

This is a must read for anyone considering law school. It follows the experiences of the author, Scott Turow through his first year at Harvard Law. A legal education is unique in it's Socratic method, heavy reading, unique way of thinking, and language. Year 1 of law school is the indoctrination of the American legal profession as you are trained to think like a lawyer.

In the author's experience, this includes the classic first year classes, readings, case outlining, teaching styles, Harvard Law events that every one must go through. He gives a very dramatic and exciting description of his experience. He talks about how the stress and pressure affected him and those around him. The changes a legal education brings about in one's way of thinking and expressing themselves.

It is both highly descriptive of the experience of law school and philosophical in its approach. Towards the end, he describes the challenges and strenghts of a legal education. It is interesting that his description in 1975 is still so applicable today, as it was in the beginning of the 19th century when the Socratic method and case style of teaching first came into play.

I must add that this book is definitely dramatized. It may describe some people's experiences, but not the general rule. Everyone's education is different, and this is at Harvard, in the top 3 universities. One of my Undergrad Law Professors, who is a Harvard Law Grad (and has a signed copy of this book) said it wasn't very accurate and that the author had the book deal before entering law school. Irregardless, it is a classic description of the legal education. if you do intend to go to law school, it is an excellent read, if for no other reason that you will be entering expecting the worse and will be hopefully pleasantly relieved.

This took me a minute to get through because at some points it's a bit repetitive. However, the overall observation on elite institutions was a familiar meditation on some things I've been thinking about since McGill and Munk...also how different law school is (he paid $3000 for Harvard LMFAO) now than it was is fascinating

Whiney recounting of Turow's first year at Harvard Law School.

As a reader who has not yet started my first year of law school, I don't really feel like I can criticize the author's depiction of the 1L experience. Perhaps that experience, especially at Harvard in the 70s, is truly that horrid. But I just couldn't escape the feeling while reading that the whole book was Scott Turow's unsubtle way of scaring off anyone considering attending law school.

I have never felt more stressed out reading a book than I was while reading One L. Holy ****. The entire book is basically a written form of Turrow's massive amounts of anxiety throughout the first year, mixed in with the occasional criticism of the law school system, and a few rare moments when Turrow acknowledges his fascination with the law. Those few moments are far outweighed by the pages upon pages of vivid stressful ruminations.

With a big, grey cloud of my near future as a 1L looming ahead, I turned to this book looking for a bit of comfort — specifically the comfort of just understanding more thoroughly what I'm about to go through, as, at least for me, many of the details surrounding the law school experience remain shrouded in mystery. Honestly, I wish I hadn't read it, especially soon before I begin on the same journey.

While the overall negativity of the book is my main complaint, I also felt the author failed in writing characters outside of himself as the main character. Precluding the story is a note that he did not write about any of his real classmates or teachers in his 1L year, but rather opted to write those characters as generalities of the real people he encountered, in an attempt to protect the real people's privacy, yada yada. The story really suffers for that. All the characters Scott interacts with throughout his 1L year come off as very flat and forgettable. Each time he mentions a classmate's name, I don't even bother to try remembering if this character has been introduced previously in the book or if they're new to the story. It doesn't really matter either way.

I think my fascination with the law springs from having recently binged on The Lincoln Lawyer series on Netflix and reading crime novels and legal thrillers.

Enter One L. I really enjoyed reading about author Scott Turow’s (remember Presumed Innocent? The book and the Harrison Ford movie?) experience as a first year (1L) law student at Harvard Law School. My fascination here was two-fold. I wasn’t only interested in reading about Turow’s first year as a law student; I was interested in learning about Turow’s first year as a law student - at Harvard Law School - one of the most prestigious law schools in the world.

I like Turow’s writing voice. He’s very eloquent - a useful trait to possess for a lawyer, n’est-ce pas? His personal account is shared through general prose and passages from the journal he kept during his first year at Harvard Law. He wrote One L after completing/surviving his first year.

Not surprisingly, his first year was stressful and rife with stress and drama. What would you expect when you’re just one among many other smart and accomplished students? Before being accepted at Harvard Law at age 26, Turow taught creative writing at Stanford University. He was no slouch and neither were his peers in 1L. Basically, they were the kind of socially accomplished people you’d want to say “Fuck you” to.

What I found refreshing and comforting to read about were his honest portrayals of his and his peers’ feelings of inadequacy. These smart people felt stupid! Imposter syndrome, anyone? And I think that’s one of the takeaways from Turow’s book: Harvard or anywhere else, no one’s immune to feeling like they’re not good enough and smart enough. Imposter syndrome touches everyone at one point or another.

There were stories of students crying daily. Stories of the sheer terror of attending one particular class headed by a bullyish professor who taught in the Socratic method - singling out a student and bombarding him/her with questions about a case. And, boy, you better have read the case before class!

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As a 1L, you’re thrown into the deep end with little to no preparation. It’s not like there’s an undergraduate degree in Law before entering law school. From the get-go, you start reading cases in voluminous casebooks, all written in legalese (Turow doesn’t use this unsophisticated term). Turow admitted that he didn’t understand anything he was reading at first. It was like trying to understand a foreign language except you get no training wheels. You just learn by doing. After a while it supposedly just starts to make sense.

Can you imagine the panic? I’d totally be panicking, sweating & shittin’ my pants. And that is why, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am not in law school, nor would I even be accepted into law school, for that matter. Nor would I even have the know-how to apply to law school. Case closed. ⚖️

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.