Thanks to this book, my new pet peeve is authors referring to the same person with two distinct names within the same paragraph. “He had a mild sort of banter going with Sandy Stern all year. Usually he would goad Sandy good-naturedly and Stern, flattered by the attention, would try to respond.” Ew

I don't know about you guys, but recently I have started to love watching daily vlogs on YouTube. David Dobrik? Sure, I love my clickbait merch and the pranks the vlog squad must endure. A day in the life of NCAA athletes? Of course, go tackle some running backs! Bodybuilders? Why not, show me what you eat for your meals! Yale students? Show me your dorm room! Seeing the life of others through their eyes is the closest I can get to experiencing what I never will otherwise. I doubt any time soon I will be meal prepping and benching 300 or experiencing move-in day at Yale, but every now and then I can get a glimpse into a life that I could have had. It's addicting in a way, to see what everyone else is doing, even as our lives continue as normal. So maybe that's what drew me to this book.

My mom (an attorney herself) gave this to me when I made some passing comments that in my most ideal life, I would potentially go to law school. I was of course curious to see what going to Harvard Law School would be like (and how did it match up to the first year of Elle Woods?) in the most realistic sense. This book is the equivalent of what vlogs were before YouTube--we even get to read journal entries from Turow himself. Turow allows us to go on the journey with him; we hear his personal thoughts and he allows us readers to form our own opinions, alliances, and even frustrations with fellow professors and students. His raw honesty of both the material, other classmates/professors, and his own character was refreshing to read and provides insight for anyone curious about what really goes on in those hallowed halls. Law school may now be out of the cards for me, but I can always return to this book when I'm in need of some good vlog content.

(4.0) Actually made law school sound cool (yes, hard, painful, miserable but cool)

Didn't realize before picking this up that he wrote it in the 70s...and had a vague notion that Turow was an 'actual author' (though I haven't read any of his fiction), but didn't really put it all together. Anyway, definitely enjoyed this one, more so than The Paper Chase by John Jay Osborn, Jr. Pretty gritty, honest account of what it was like to trudge through the first year at Harvard Law in 1975. It was much better to vicariously experience the highs and lows of law school, and I appreciated the critical eye he took to his environment. He didn't just say that life sucked, but he identified what it was about each professor he liked and didn't like, how he thought a legal education could and should be achieved. Not that I'd ever consider going to law school, but he made it sound like much more of a valuable, life-changing experience.

I have often heard that any student interested in a legal career should read this book, and although I cannot be an authority on that account, I will say that as someone who is considering law school, "One L" is an engrossing read, marking the ups and down, triumphs and tragedies, and complex psychology of a student's first year at Harvard Law School, considered one of the most demanding academic programs in existence.

This is not at all a boring read. Turow gives enormous life to his experiences as a 1L, and you'll find great pleasure in tracking the interactions of he, his classmates, and all their professors, most notably Perini.

What I also appreciated was Turow's intelligent observations on race and gender throughout the story. He often remarks on the challenges of women and people of color in the law school, and bear in mind: this is a young white man speaking in the culture of mid-70s. I found that laudable.

Even if you have no interest in attending law school, Turow will take you on quite a journey. Highly recommend it.

brb while I intellectualize my own experiences.

I would not recommend to non-law students and I would not recommend to those who process things well individually. I WOULD recommend to those who find reading words on a page helpful in clarifying your own thoughts! Didn’t relate to everything here but found it so helpful in distilling my own thoughts about 1L year

I really enjoyed reading this first-hand account of Turrow's life as a Harvard Law School 1L. It terrified as well as invigorated me in my yearning to attend law school in the fall. I doubt that this account will be close to my own experiences (though perhaps maybe I'll be inclined to comment on the subject further once I finish my time as a 1L), but I enjoyed taking the journey with him.

I have to make a few comments however on how outdated some of this is, most notably the monetary figures included! Turrow at one point references the "inflated" prices of law school texts and then goes on to grumble about paying $15 to $26 on a text book. Are you shitting me! Could you imagine only spending $26 dollars on a text book in this day and age? Hell I'll be happy if I can get away with paying under $80 for most of my books. And the tuition reference. $9000 to finance an entire law career! Could you imagine? I couldn't. I will pay over $9000 for one semester of law school and that's at a much less prestigious school than Harvard Law. This comment however says nothing about the merits of the novel or Turrow's abilities as a writer. I just happened to find it striking how much more expensive things have become since the 1970s. Yikes.

Scott Turow tells his experience as a first-year student at Harvard Law School where freshmen are dubbed One Ls. I first heard about this book when it was recommended by one of our speakers during our orientation as first year law students in a premier university. But I was only able to read it when I was already in third year, or after I got kicked out and transferred to another school. Still, it was not a totally waste of time. I came to understand where I failed or what I lacked in my freshman year. I realized that first year in law school is the most critical in the life of a lawyer. Early on, you have to survive the terrors, depressions, hazing, compulsive work (e.g. reading up to 20 cases for a two-hour long recitation in class!), and very intimidating professors. One memorable account in the book is one that deals with the Socratic method of lecturing, where there were no clear answers. It was a familiar experience in my first school to be grilled with questions by the professor using that method. I suffered anxiety over a single exam that may determine my future in law school. The book narrates not only about law school but about being human in an intense, often grueling, situation. It is a must-read for first-year law students and law school applicants, or by anyone who has ever contemplated going to law school.

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.

A fantastic, anxiety and determination fueled story, creating a wonderful understanding of what a first year in law school can look like. It’s a wonderful reminder of what I’m getting myself into this fall, albeit not at Harvard.

It scared me and inspired me. Fortunately, law school at Wake Forest was hardly like this. It's much better than Harvard!

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.

Enjoyable, especially from the vantage point of someone who has longed to go to law school for over two decades now. I began reading this prior to my return to college in 2016 and set it down as my courses ramped up. With another hiccup in my academic career firmly established, I'll admit that I long for books which feed that ambition. The pressure and competition the author sees as interfering with his appreciation hit me with nostalgia.

Despite Turow authoring it in the 70's, my understanding is many of the rituals of law school remain in place, although I'll admit I have no idea how any of it is proceeding through COVID-19. (I can't begin to imagine the Socratic method being effectively managed over Zoom.) The content that seemed the most dated were his attempts to embrace the beginnings of sexual equality within the field of law. His reasons for doing so felt naive and stereotypical: that women might soften the competitive, adversarial qualities that men have engendered. I'm guessing that many still probably agree with that, however, I've never held to the opinion that competition is particularly masculine or feminine.

And, as a former student who found a preposterous amount of validation in grades and still situates a questionable amount of self-worth in employer evaluations and client compliments, I would be among those hesitant to relinquish systems of meritocracy. Like the author, I can see that this is probably not motivated by anything benevolent, however, I'm not sure it's shameful either. The goal isn't to deprive anyone of the means to live and thrive. It's not an impulse to ignore varying talents and diverse ways of contributing. It is, instead, motivated, at least in part, by acknowledgement that we are not and needn't be the same or treated as such and that differences in effort and ability can be acknowledged and rewarded.