Listening to Justice Barrett: A Review of Amy Coney Barrett’s Recent Book
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On September 9th, 2025, Associate Justice Amy Vivian Coney Barrett published her first book: Listening to the Law: Reflections on the Court and Constitution. Justice Barrett’s book is divided into three parts, excluding the introductory chapter that offers a brief reflection on Barrett’s life and time on the Bench. The first part considers the history and functions of the United States Supreme Court. The second part analyzes the importance of the Constitutional Convention, where 55 delegates assembled together in Philadelphia in 1787 with the initial hope of revising the Articles of Confederation, which shifted into a realization of the need to start anew with the drafting of the U.S. Constitution. The final part of the book provides insights into Justice Barrett’s particular judicial philosophy and assessment of the primacy of the written Constitution in creating an enduring system of government that is as “near to perfection” as possible, as Benjamin Franklin remarked on the last day of the Constitutional Convention. I will begin this review by reflecting on the book’s particular genre, then progress into a consideration of Justice Barrett’s jurisprudential thoughts, and conclude with a short comparison between the book and Justice Sandra Day O’ Connor’s The Majesty of the Law.
The Genre and Style of the Book
In many ways, Listening to the Law is rather difficult to categorize into a literary genre. That being said, it most clearly evinces qualities associated with creative nonfiction. The book is not entirely a memoir on Justice Barrett’s life, but there are several anecdotes from her past interspersed throughout the book, especially at the beginning of many chapters. These individual vignettes frame Justice Barrett’s legal discourse with an intimate and lively touch that provides compelling personal connections and reasons for the layperson to better understand our nation’s legal culture. Barrett’s distinctive voice and personality shine through the bound pages of the book, making her perspectives on the law feel all the more raw and authentic. This close relationship between the author’s voice and the legal facts of the book is best exemplified in Chapter Eight, when she writes about her decision to hang a portrait of Abigail Adams in her office. Barrett connects her admiration for Abigail Adams as a pivotal female voice in the Founding Era (1770s-1790s) to a discourse of the larger legal landscape of late 18th-century America and the importance of the Constitutional Convention of 1787. This channeling of legal discourse through introductory personal anecdotes from Barrett’s life characterizes the whole of this book. One minute Barrett’s will be discussing a family recipe for a New Orleans shrimp remoulade, and the next minute, you’ll see her connecting that to the way the written Constitution provides us with a recipe for governance and the law with clear rules and standards.
The reader can also feel the creative nonfiction elements of Justice Barrett’s book in the way in which Barrett brings the Constitutional Convention to life by personalizing the individual delegates and imagining how they might have interacted with one another based on historical records and documentation. For example, through the power of creative writing, Barrett revives the late eighteenth-century city of Philadelphia by explaining the demographics and lives of the 40,000 Philadelphia residents who were “closely packed in an eight-block stretch” (Barrett, 123). These individuals would have included politicians and businessmen, German and French immigrants, and a relatively large population of free African Americans, who comprised roughly 5% of the Philadelphia population in 1790. As well as bringing the city itself to life, Barrett also zooms in on what might have occurred inside what is today called Independence Hall, the location where the Constitution was drafted. While the windows of Independence Hall were all shut and covered with window shades, Barrett uses the notes of James Madison on the drafting of the Constitution and biographical information on the 55 delegates to give us a sense of what the debates around the Constitution in Independence Hall might have looked like. For instance, Barrett juxtaposes the linen-wearing Southern delegates with the Northern delegates, who would have worn wool, as well as the ages of the delegates, which varied from the elderly Benjamin Franklin at 81 years old to a strapping young man from New Jersey, who was only 26 years old. Barrett also explains the important roles of Washington and Madison, who were the only out-of-state delegates to arrive in Philadelphia on time for the beginning of the Convention. Barrett pairs the image of a dashing, six-foot-tall Washington who both literally and figuratively stood tall over the delegates as presiding officer with that of a balding, bashful, and short Madison, who must have been somewhere in the background frantically writing in his journals so as not to miss a “fraction of an hour in any day.” In many ways, Listening to the Law feels like an informal, personal chat with the Justice about her remarks on the history of the law. For this reason, the book can best be categorized as creative nonfiction.
Judicial Philosophy
Originalism
While Justice Barrett offers readers insights into her particular judicial philosophy throughout the book, her legal philosophy is most clear in its third part, Thinking about the Law, where she describes herself as an originalist in terms of interpreting the Constitution. Justice Barrett defines originalism as an emphasis on the “primacy of the Constitution’s historical meaning” (Barrett, 197), and she spends the majority of Chapter Twelve discussing why this approach to Constitutional law is the most appropriate and how it functions. Justice Barrett cites Shakespeare’s Macbeth, specifically, the scene where a sleepwalking Lady Macbeth screams, “Out, damned spot, out, I say” (Act 5, Scene 1). To someone who has never read Macbeth, it’s easy to imagine that this line might refer to Lady Macbeth’s attempts to remove a stain from a garment or carpet; however, the quote actually refers to the psychological stain on her conscience from assisting Macbeth’s assassination plot against the King of Scotland. Through this analogy, Barrett emphasizes the importance of understanding the underlying meaning of a text as opposed to just reading the words on the page. She connects this Shakespearean analogy to Supreme Court cases, such as Crawford v. Washington, making the argument that historical evidence must be taken into consideration to determine the original meaning of a text. Overall, just like considering the context behind a character’s thought process in a literary work by Shakespeare, Barrett argues that one must also consider the cultural, legal, and ideological circumstances at the time of the Founding to understand the Constitution.
An interesting feature of Barrett’s discourse on originalism is her acknowledgment of the fact that originalists do not “always interpret constitutional text the same way” (Barrett, 206). As evidence, Barrett explains how Justice Antonin Scalia and Justice Clarence Thomas, two of the most notable originalists in history, disagreed on a particular stipulation of the Sixth Amendment. While Barrett herself does not provide a reason for how the same judicial philosophy could lead Justices to such vastly different legal opinions, we might be able to look at the historical circumstances of the period to find an answer. Historical evidence for understanding the broader ideological and political landscape of the United States Constitution would include literature such as The Federalist Papers, a series of essays written primarily by Hamilton and Madison to garner support for state ratification of the Constitution, as well as The Antifederalist Papers, printed materials written by opponents of the Constitution expressing their various criticisms. In fact, it turns out that there was a substantial number of individuals who opposed the adoption of the Constitution. Even among the 55 delegates who attended the Constitutional Convention, 16 delegates chose not to sign the Constitution. As the names imply, The Federalist Papers and The Antifederalist Papers were diametrically opposed in their purpose; thus, the Founding-era thought process behind the phrases in the Constitution is also bound to differ depending on whether the person was a Federalist or Anti-Federalist. Barrett addresses similar concerns about originalism, and she also recognizes that “history” is not a “cure-all for legal uncertainty” (Barrett, 205). Barrett clearly understands and points out that there is no unified compendium of historical information that contains definitive answers about every single legal topic by pointing to a historical source. There is a recognition in Barrett’s originalist approach that court cases, especially Supreme Court cases, bring “interpretive question[s]” that may, on one extreme, lack sources that directly speak to the topic, or, on the other extreme, have too many records with differing ideas in relation to the topic. That being said, there is no question whether or not Barrett’s jurisprudence is centered around an originalist approach, and this can clearly be seen when she explains that the Court is obligated to prioritize the “original meaning” even if the “pragmatic approach is both fair and efficient” (Barrett, 199-200). Barrett’s argument for originalism ends with the recognition that originalism can be “misused by judges who overclaim or cherry-picked” (Barrett, 206). Thus, she offers readers a complex and nuanced understanding of the potential drawbacks of originalism, while maintaining the notion that originalism serves as one of the primary tools that can be used in interpreting the Constitution.
2. Textualism
Justice Barrett also supports using textualism to analyze federal statutes. Textualism is a judicial philosophy that prioritizes a statute’s textual details instead of emphasizing its purpose, which is called pragmatism. The thirteenth chapter describes the benefits and applications of textualism; for instance, Barrett explains the inefficiency of a pragmatic approach to statutes, which would compel judges to consider the intent of 270 different people—at least 218 members of the House of Representatives, at least 51 members of the Senate, and a singular president. This is because Barrett argues that pragmatist judges must consider the original intentions behind a majority of the House of Representatives, which is at least 218 Congressmen, a majority of the Senate, which is at least 51 Senators, and one president who has the ability to approve or veto a federal statute. It is often difficult to even discern the intent behind what a single person says, and trying to understand the original intentions of at least 270 people would be nearly impossible. Barrett then spends the fourteenth chapter to complicate the issue by explaining how textualists must also consider “language in context” (Barrett, 227). She provides a clear example of “language in context” when explaining the definition of a “green car,” which may either mean a car that is colored green or a car that uses renewable energy sources. In order to untangle the language of federal statutes, Barrett explains how Justices often refer to the grammar of the statutes and “Canons of Interpretation," which are rules that assist in interpreting statutes. This chapter of the book reads much like a textbook on statutory interpretation, which stands in rather stark contrast to the intimate and personal tone found throughout the rest of the book. Overall, Justice Barrett complicates surface-level understandings of standard judicial philosophies by demonstrating a clear understanding of the benefits and drawbacks of such philosophies. Through her recognition that no singular legal philosophy will be sufficient in all circumstances, Barrett argues for a rather nuanced position in regard to both originalism and textualism that places her at a juste milieu between her judicial philosophy and those of the others on the Bench.
Book Comparison and Concluding Thoughts
I’ll conclude my review of Justice Barrett’s book with another book that strikes me as analogous: the late Associate Justice Sandra Day O’ Connor’s The Majesty of the Law. Both books reveal insights into the lives of the Justices and tell factually inspiring stories about our nation’s legal culture over generations. However, Justice O’Connor’s book also offers readers an exaltation of the fundamental values of law, freedom, and justice. This can best be seen when O’Connor explains how former Chief Justice Rutledge speaks for all Justices in his quote, “Law, freedom, and justice—this trinity is the object of my faith” (O’Connor, 16). Justice O’Connor enshrines the law within a great historical tradition of being passed down from one generation to the next into eternity. Indeed, this is an image that we see in the North and South frieze of the Courtroom of the United States Supreme Court, which depicts a procession of lawgivers ranging from the beginning of antiquity with King Menes of Egypt to the nascent rise of modernity with the Emperor Napoleon, and the title of O’Connor’s book The Majesty of the Law is also an allusion to one of the allegorical figures in the center of the East frieze of the Courtroom.
While The Majesty of the Law feels a bit like reading Melville’s Moby-Dick in its inspirational legal grandeur and operatic intensity, Barrett’s Listening to the Law reads more like the works in the Platonic corpus in its utilization of informal dialectics to deliver information and make legal arguments. Justice Barrett emphasizes the fact that Supreme Court Justices are merely human beings, not divinely-inspired prophets like Moses, eternally-wise lawgivers like Solomon, or saints like King Louis IX of France. This sentiment is reflected in Federalist 51 of the Federalist Papers, where James Madison writes, “If men were angels, no government would be necessary." Likewise, our nation’s lawgivers are not perfect but are flawed by human nature. For this same reason, Barrett explains that “Judges don’t dispense justice solely as we see it; instead, we’re constrained by laws adopted through the democratic process…It’s a unique role created and defined by the Constitution” (Barrett, 23). In this recognition of human fallibility, Justice Barrett argues for her originalist and textualist perspective by submitting herself to the Law, echoing the mandate from the Oath of Office that commands all who serve the government to “defend the Constitution" in “true faith and allegiance.”
Parsa is a junior at Brown University studying Political Science and the History of Art and Architecture. He is a writer for the Brown Undergraduate Law Review and can be reached at parsa_zaheri@brown.edu.
Cat Gao is a junior at Brown University studying Philosophy and Literary Arts. She is an Editor for the Brown Undergraduate Law Review and can be reached at cat_gao@brown.edu.
Ashley Park is a sophomore at Brown University, concentrating in English and Political Science. She is an editor for the Brown Undergraduate Law Review and can be contacted at ashley_h_park@brown.edu.