Neil Rose

Reading Alex Aldridge's recent blog on alcoholism in the law prompted me to revisit this article I commissioned for the Law Society Gazette from 2008, in which solicitor and former Law Society council member Tony Bogan wrote – without sparing the details – of his battle with alcohol. It is, dare one say, a sobering tale from a decent man undone by human frailties. It also highlights the unsung work done by organisations such as LawCare and the Solicitors Benevolent Association (there are equivalents for barristers, barristers' clerks, and legal executives) in helping lawyers and their families who, for a variety of reasons, fall on hard times.

Alex Aldridge

Regular Guardian Law readers will be aware of my confused feelings of love and hatred towards the legal profession. What drives me particularly crazy is how seriously many of its members take themselves. That's why I love Mickey Haller, the hero of Michael Connelly's novel (and 2011 film) The Lincoln Lawyer. Unpretentious Haller, with his bad attitude and gangland contacts is just so un-lawyerly!

But when the pressure's on, Haller also turns out to be really clever and cunning – a bit like an American version of The Busker, my favourite character in Tim Kevan's excellent BabyBarista novels. Haller proves - as much as any fictional character is able to - that pomposity isn't a prerequisite for legal success as he stylishly brings down his evil posho nemesis. And deep down he's a nice guy. And he's cool. And the soundtrack to the film is great.

Watch it, and read the book (and if you're a lawyer, try to be more like Haller). Alongside the aforementioned BabyB, Connelly's rip-roaring tale is easily my best law-related entertainment experience of 2011.

Ros Taylor

I don't have a law degree or qualification, but if someone had lent me Michael Sandel's Justice: What's The Right Thing to Do? when I was an A-level student, I think I might have ended up with an LLB. Sandel takes human dilemmas rather than legal precedent as his starting-point, and the result is the difference between a dip in Parliament Hill lido and a cold bath.

Fine Lines and Distinctions: Murder, Manslaughter and the Taking of Human Life by Louis Blom-Cooper and Terence Morris is a fine read, too, and if Blom-Cooper is to persuade the public that homicide law needs to be reformed, I hope a publisher will spot the case for a 50-page abridged version. The BBC's Silk was gripping, if occasionally farcical - Peter Moffat, won't you do an interview for Guardian Law before the second series begins next spring? Lastly, I mention Luke Harding's Mafia State, not because he sits next to me in the office, but because it's a fantastic introduction to the state of human rights in Russia under Putin.

Jon Robins

Undoubtedly the best "legal read of the year" that I have not read is Tom Bingham's The Rule of Law. I bought the paperback and do mean to read it. The section of the book on legal aid and its place in the welfare state is well thumbed. I suspect I have got further than Ken Clarke. Anyhow, I'm sure it's great and recommend it wholeheartedly.

As for the best book I have read, I'm split between two powerful prison memoirs – the Guardian's own Erwin James' A Life Inside and The Jail Diary of Albie Sachs.

I've just got round to reading his 1966 account of being arrested and detained under South Africa's notorious 90-days law as a young barrister. Sachs, now a judge in the constitutional court of South Africa, spent 168 days in solitary. It's a remarkable read and a testimony to one man's psychological endurance. If you want to understand what goes on our prison system James's book is a great place to start – plus it has some great anecdotes: such as how 'Torchy' earned his nickname (clue: admitted to hospital having secreted a number of batteries in a part of his anatomy). All royalties go to the Prisoners Advice Service – so just buy it.

Joshua Rozenberg

Somebody had to put the 20 million words of evidence that Lord Saville heard and the 5,000 pages that he published last year into a readable book and Douglas Murray has done so with skill and aplomb in Bloody Sunday: Truth, Lies and the Saville Inquiry. Viewing the tragedy of Bloody Sunday through the eyes of those who were there and those who responsible, his book supports neither the IRA, nor the Army, but truth and justice. Murray's book is a fitting tribute to those who were killed and provides a valuable introduction to anyone daunted by the prospect of reading the Saville report itself.

Maya Wolfe-Robinson

Every time a new book-shaped parcel turns up in my pigeon-hole, my heart sinks a little bit as I wonder where I'm going to find room for it among the piles of stuff on my desk (and underneath my desk, not to mention the stacks seeping onto my colleagues' desks ...). However, Representing Justice: The Creation and Fragility of Courts in Democracies by Yale professors Judith Resnik and Dennis E Curtis is one I didn't mind making room for. The book maps historical depictions of Lady Justice and provides answers as to why Justice is a woman, how long she has had a blindfold and whether she is ever shown as non-white.

Apart from the beautiful pictures of Justice around the world, the book also explores the role courts and the judiciary play in a democracy. Resnik and Curtis warn that open justice is under threat as policies shift towards privatisation, mediation and private arbitration. Courts, they say, "while venerable ... are at present also vulnerable."

Owen Bowcott

For a one time history student, it has been a delight to discover the enthusiasm with which judges excavate ancient archives to spice up their speeches with esoteric details. Lord Neuberger unearthed the 1530 Acte for Poysonyng as a perfect example of over-hasty legislation that provided for poisoners to be boiled to death. The attorney general, Dominic Grieve QC, began his latest cautionary advice about contempt with a detour recounting how Samuel Johnson narrowly avoided incarceration when his 1755 dictionary described the inland revenue of his day as run by 'wretches'.

As a period, legal romp through the American South and the 1980s oil business, Attica Locke's Blackwater Rising packs in courtoom suspense, bodies near the bayou and a history of Black Panther politics. It's Texas, where lawyers carry pistols and aren't afraid to use them. Another small town lawyer taking on corporate corruption - but with atmosphere and verve.