89 books like Biglaw

This is one of my favorite books—probably because I was a stressed-out corporate lawyer who definitely can’t iron.

The Undomestic Goddess is the story of a workaholic lawyer who is trying to become a partner at her law firm—only to get fired for an egregious mistake that she can’t believe she made. In her shock, she agrees to become a housekeeper. The only problem is she has no idea how to do any housework, which leads to some hilarious scenes.

I also loved how she figured out the mystery leading to her dismissal. This book made me feel less alone as a stressed-out workaholic lawyer and also made me consider that maybe being a partner at a law firm was not what I really wanted in life.

On her thirtieth birthday, good girl and Manhattan attorney Rachel White sleeps with her best friend’s fiancé. To complicate matters, it’s not just a drunken mistake—Rachel realizes she’s always had feelings for him and learns that he too has feelings for her. With its messy, complicated relationships and deep dive into female friendship, I could not put this book down. This was one of the first “chick lit” novels I read about a single, urban professional woman navigating her career and personal life. And even while I was cringing at some of Rachel’s choices, I admired how honest and flawed the characters were in this story and loved Giffin’s smooth writing style, and have devoured all of her books ever since reading this one. 

Molly Grant is a divorce attorney at a large Manhattan firm representing wealthy and demanding clients. While the book is entertaining in its descriptions of ridiculous office politics and insufferable clients, what made me fall in love with it was the main character. Molly is sharp and funny, and in the beginning of the book, she seems like the typical associate playing the game to get ahead, putting in the hours and stroking egos while also keeping her head down. But when the ex-wife of a rich, ruthless media mogul seeks help because her husband is alienating her children against her, Molly has to choose between her own career advancement or listening to her conscience to use her lawyer powers for good. This is an engrossing, entertaining, feel-good read. 

Alice Carlisle is an intellectual property attorney trainee in London about to secure full-time employment at her firm. But when the head of the department is suspended (the circumstances of which are revealed throughout the story), HR informs Alice that there will be a hiring freeze. Needing money, she takes on a temporary job at her local pub and her boyfriend’s ex moves in to help with the rent. Ouch! I felt so bad for Alice—to work so hard at something and then have it fall apart through no fault of her own. This is a smart, page-turning, relatable read that I devoured in an afternoon, and I loved the message that sometimes a detour takes you right where you need to be.

Shakespeare wanted to kill all the lawyers, and this book will give you a reason to. On second thought, be glad that these two roguish lawyers, William Howe and Abe Hummel, lived to fill this book with colorful stories of the criminal underworld in late nineteenth-century New York and how the crooks got away with it. Howe, a flamboyant, heavily bejeweled (and heavy) trial lawyer, could reduce juries to tears, while his gnomish partner, Abe Hummel, counted P. T. Barnum, Buffalo Bill Cody, and other celebrity hucksters among his clients. Between them, Howe and Hummel were in on almost every major criminal trial of their era, sometimes winning, sometimes losing, but always leaving behind a trail of crookedness that would make even the shadiest of today’s lawyers blush.

I loved that, in addition to telling stories of her clients, Goldberg (an attorney) writes about how she herself became the victim of cyber abuse by a former boyfriend. I think hearing this from a smart, successful woman can help other victims overcome the tendency to blame themselves.

The stories Goldberg tells in her book make clear how life-destroying it is when nude images of a woman are posted online, whether because of so-called “revenge porn” or sextortion. I think this is only going to become a bigger problem because now, thanks to AI, it’s so easy to create nude deepfakes.

Accounts like Goldberg’s can help galvanize the laws we need to criminalize the sharing of nude images without consent.

Rage of Angels introduced me to kidnap crime thrillers and inspired me to write my own. I fell in love with Sidney Sheldon after reading this and went on to devour every book he wrote. Sheldon’s character development is brilliant. If you don’t fall in love with and root for Rage of Angel’s Jennifer Parker, then you’re not human. This is a page-turning whirlwind of a tale. You’ll question her morals, your morals, and you’ll ask yourself what you would do in her situation. You’ll love characters you shouldn’t and exhaust yourself trying to figure out Sheldon’s next twist. Totally worth the read. It’s the only 500-page book I didn’t want to end.

I loved this book for the absorbing way in which Jennifer Wright pulled me into the fabulous and, quite frankly, improbable life of one of America’s least-known abortion advocates. The narrative arc is brilliant, and I was fascinated by the quirks and details that Wright used to bring Restell to life—eccentricities, foibles, and all.

This book is a must-read for anyone trying to understand the origins of the war on reproductive rights that we see unfolding today and for anyone who’s not convinced that reproductive and economic rights are inextricably linked.

I thought I had nothing left to learn about Madame Restell, the unapologetic 19th-century abortion provider until I saw how this book was organized. While keeping the narrative flowing, Syrett helpfully organizes Restell’s career into phases defined by changes in the law, her trials, and the emergence of one male adversary after another.

I loved learning that, even after Restell met her Waterloo, her loving grandchildren profited from her legacy. As told by Syrett, a gender-norm-defying woman who was literally hounded to death somehow managed to have the last laugh.

Constance Baker Motley’s role within the Civil Rights Movement had not received the recognition it deserved until Tomiko Brown-Nagin’s Civil Rights Queen. Brown-Nagin reconstructs Motley’s life and pushes readers to consider the activist and legal career of the first Black woman appointed as a federal judge. As a writer who is especially interested in studying Black working-class women, I appreciate the author’s close attention to how Motley’s life from a working-class background to her position as a judge of the Southern District of New York.