I was troubled, for legal and ethical reasons, by Duran Bell's (AA 102:389-90) review of a book I edited, because I believe he may have violated United States copyright law and abraded the ethical standards of our discipline. Let me explain. In preparing for his review, Bell e-mailed me four questions concerning my selections for the volume, whether I assigned the book in class, who would buy it, and whether I expected students to buy it. I responded with an informal 219-word letter (including the salutation and closing). I thought his request was unusual but felt I should answer it. Receiving no response, some weeks later I wrote to ask if he had received my e-mail. Bell responded by thanking me for my prompt reply and adding that it had been invaluable in preparing his review. My e-mail system did not preserve the dates of these communications, but the entirety was completed by October 27, 1999. On reading Bell's review, I was surprised to see that he had quoted-without seeking permission-the complete substance of my e-mail (188 words), leaving out only the salutation, closing, and seven words in sentence (as well as changing word in my original). As we know, copyright law is complex and changing, but some principles seem well established. First, copyright inheres in the author of a work, whether or not it is published; no notice of copyright is required on unpublished work. I know from experience in the United Kingdom, for example, that rights to unpublished letters, even when they are possessed by the recipient and deeded to a library, pertain to the author or the author's estate. Such letters, even if half a century old, cannot be cited without approval. Similarly, several years ago my wife and I published an article that analyzed a series of public e-mail exchanges on Femecon-L, a feminist economics listserv. The emails were preserved in an archive and could be downloaded anywhere in the world. Before publishing, however, we wrote (and received approval from) each contributor of 25 or more words who was quoted. In considering such unpublished materials, the U.S. courts apparently have concluded that authors of unpublished materials hold the right to determine the context of first publication. (See, for example, www.cetus.org/fair5.html.) In a book review, of course, we often quote from the volume under consideration, but this of another's published words is itself guided by the concept of I cannot pretend to offer a definitive account of the use concept, especially since it has been the subject of a number of court cases. But there seems to be general agreement that copying the entire substance of a work is not fair use. The Quarterly Review observes that if one hundred words comprise a substantial part of the total source (for example, if you quote from a brief letter or pamphlet), it is best to obtain permission (www.quarterlyreview. org/guidelines.html). A different source advises that unpublished materials especially (such as letters) should be quoted (or even paraphrased) with care (www.virginia.edu/-urelat/Guide/ PartII-9.html). Thus, while I am not an attorney, I believe Bell has infringed my copyright both by publishing an unpublished letter without seeking and receiving permission, and by contravening the fair doctrine. I am equally troubled by Bell's ethical standards. For the past several decades, and more, many of us in the profession have been worried about the moral positioning of anthropology, and readers of this journal will be familiar with some of the issues. For example, what does it mean that our disciplinary knowledge has been gained, at least in part, under colonial and neocolonial conditions of solicitation and production? Or, what do we owe the many people from whom we receive information? In response to these and other issues, some of us undertake collaborative fieldwork; others publish in local venues or assume activist positions; still others question the truth value of the knowledge itself. But point seems certain: we are bound to seek informed consent of those with whom we live and whose ideas we seek and practices we observe. It takes little effort to imagine the consequences for anthropology of undermining this morality and respect for others; even more important, how do we wish to comport ourselves in relation to fellow humans? I am truly alarmed by Bell's scholarly practice or interrogation of me; others may draw their conclusions.