A Movie Review by Lawrence Auster
May 31, 2014
LAWRENCE AUSTER, the formidable journalist and thinker who died last year, was a prolific letter writer. For him, the letter was a necessary medium of cultural combat. Aside from the many letters he wrote to family and friends, which were of a different nature, he frequently wrote to magazines, newspapers and radio stations. He wrote letters to the New York transit authority about loud music and the poor design of subway cars. He wrote letters to his landlord about the tiles in the entranceway and to neighbors who let their charcoal smoke drift into his apartment.
Though these letters often involved complaints — he tended to complain about very important things or what most people would consider very minor things, rather than anything in between these two extremes — he never seemed deterred by the possibility that his letters might be unread even when they were lengthy. Who knows how many people were bewildered to find that someone had applied such deep and eloquent analysis to what they had said or done. Who knows how many people did that most difficult of all things and found themselves unexpectedly engaging in the act of thinking after reading an Auster letter.
Below is an example of one of his letters. It is dated Oct., 28, 1997 and is addressed to the commentator and film critic Michael Medved concerning a review he wrote for The New York Post.