"Yes?"

"Let's talk postmodernism."

"Not now," the voice drops to a whisper. "I'm in tutorial." Ah. Witnesses. Then, conspiratorially: "E-mail me."

I do, and the reply comes a few hours later. Everything I'm about to learn, the note begins, is "not for attribution." Immediately, I dub my source Deep Thought and check my ethernet connection for taps. Anonymity, D.T. continues, "is already a pomo move. No one wants to take responsibility." I start worrying.

If a tenured Harvard professor is afraid to speak on the record, might I be in for more than I bargained? Has the Ivory Tower Mafia put the kibosh on chit-chat for secret, sordid reasons best left unexplored? More important, can tweed coats carry switchblades? Do corduroy patches cover gang signs? Are the cops going to find my mangled remains in a cement factory down the road from the next Modern Language Association convention?

Nah--but D.T.'s on the Q.T. nonetheless. I can dig it. The important thing is to get the info out to the masses. Without further ado, then, four "attributes of literary pomoism" from DT to me to you:

"1) Absence of authority. Not the same as rejection of authority, but rather nobody knows who's in charge, like of the UN or USA or Harvard, for example. Or [absence of authority] in the story.