The biography I remember most is a life of Marie Curie, the scientist who won two Nobel Prizes for her work on radioactivity. I'm a chemistry undergraduate at a university in Hanoi, and I read it in my first year.
I came across it in a slightly unusual way. My grandmother, who was a pharmacist, kept a copy in Vietnamese on her bookshelf, and when I told her I'd chosen chemistry, she gave it to me as a present, saying I should know what real dedication looks like.
The book follows Marie from her childhood in Poland, which was then controlled by Russia, where girls weren't allowed to go to university. She worked as a governess for years to pay for her sister's studies, and then moved to Paris with very little money, living in a freezing attic and sometimes fainting from hunger while she studied. Later, with her husband Pierre, she discovered two new elements, and after his sudden death in a street accident, she carried on the research alone while raising two daughters. During the First World War she even organised mobile X-ray units to help treat soldiers.
The book had a big effect on me. First, it made my own complaints about long lab sessions seem ridiculous. Second, I was struck by how much she achieved despite people constantly doubting her because she was a woman, which matters to me, since there are still fewer women in my department. And finally, the book made me think about the cost of science. The radiation that made her famous also damaged her health. It reminded me that research needs both passion and caution.