`CHOICE' OFFERS LITTLE FOR READER.

Byline: Michiko Kakutani The New York Times

Title: ``The Choice''

Author: Bob Woodward 

Data: Illustrated, 462 pages, Simon & Schuster; $26

Our rating: Three Stars

Much already has been made of the juicy tidbits in ``The Choice,'' Bob Woodward's new book on the 1996 presidential campaign: most notably, the revelation that Hillary Clinton held meetings with a new age psychologist, in which she carried on imaginary conversations with Eleanor Roosevelt and Mahatma Gandhi.

The book also includes an assertion by Woodward, an assistant managing editor of the Washington Post, that President Clinton ``personally had been controlling tens of millions of dollars worth'' of Democratic National Committee advertising, thereby ``circumventing the rigorous post-Watergate reforms that were designed to limit and control the raising and spending of money for presidential campaigns.''

``His direct, hands-on involvement,'' Woodward writes, ``was risky, certainly in violation of the spirit of the law and possibly illegal.''

Woodward, typically, does not follow up on the implications of these disclosures. Instead, his book moves, like a blind shark, toward its conclusion, never pausing to analyze or assess.

For the most part, the volume simply rehashes events already recounted by newspapers and television, embroidering them with a filigree of insider gossip. We're told that Mrs. Clinton believes in the new age homily ``Fake it till you make it,'' that Jack Kemp ``acknowledged to close friends that he probably was not smart enough to be president,'' that Colin L. Powell identified with Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman's refusal to run for president and thought, ``I'm a reincarnation.''

Such asides are embedded in a familiar chronology of events. We are treated to a tired replay of the Republican primary race, with glimpses of the Iowa and New Hampshire races and cameo portraits of Steve Forbes, Lamar Alexander and Patrick J. Buchanan. We are told - surprise! - that Bob Dole wants to find a first-rate vice presidential running mate, and that he would love to get Powell on the ticket.

There are problems with Woodward's technique.

As he has done for years, beginning with his Watergate books, he relies heavily on ``background'' or ``deep background'' interviews, rarely identifying his sources. Scenes and conversations are authoritatively recounted in an omniscient novelistic voice, when in fact that scene may reflect (or spin) a single person's point of view.

Indeed, the reader frequently is tempted to guess who the primary source for a given scene might be, based on just how heroically or stupidly players in that scene come off.

Although Clinton declined to be interviewed, this fact did not stop Woodward from relating what the president thought or felt or said on a variety of occasions.

Did Clinton really tell a group of self-help authors at Camp David: ``I have a good heart. I really do. I hope I have a decent mind''? On Election Day in 1994, did he say to Mrs. Clinton in the White House residential quarters: ``I got caught up in the parliamentary aspect of the presidency and missed the leadership, bully pulpit function which is so critical''?

In both cases, we have to take what Woodward says on faith.

The other problems with ``The Choice'' have to do with the author's breathless, nonevaluative style.

By placing a premium on immediacy, Woodward tends to accord all incidents (from debates over Bosnia to Mrs. Clinton's sessions on the treadmill) equal weight, and by declining to place developments in a historical or biographical context, he tends to reduce character to a collection of knee-jerk political reactions.

As a result, we are given little insight into the myriad personal (never mind ideological) differences that distinguish Dole and Clinton: leaders of two very different generations, one, a wounded war veteran; the other, a man who famously never served.

One, an awkward campaigner at odds with the English language; the other, an instinctive politician, garrulous and given to wearing his heart on his sleeve. Instead, Clinton and Dole emerge from these pages as bizarre political twins; as portrayed by Woodward, the subjects of ``The Choice'' offer little choice at all.

Both are depicted as lonely, isolated men: Clinton playing solitaire late at night, while talking on the phone; Dole weeping on hearing the song ``You'll Never Walk Alone'' and keeping his decision to resign from the Senate a secret from his wife for many weeks.

Both are depicted as pragmatists, who have a hard time articulating a vision: when asked by Vice President Gore what direction he wanted to take, Clinton is said to have answered that ``he wanted his presidency back''; when asked by a reporter why he wanted to be president, Dole responds with a rambling, incoherent answer, ``modifying, amplifying and in the process often nullifying the impact of his own words.''

Both Dole and Clinton are depicted as men who have a hard time making decisions: Woodward reports that Clinton's advisers realized that ``a clear direction or course was rarely set,'' and he reports that a Dole aide knew that ``there was never a bright line drawn'' with her boss, he ``would be constantly evolving.''

Finally, both men are depicted as willing make-over subjects: Woodward devotes considerable space to the consultant Dick Morris and his attempts to ``reposition'' Clinton as a moderate, and he similarly chronicles the efforts of Dole's aides to help the candidate shed his image as a Washington insider, to become less angry and more focused.

Almost all of ``The Choice'' is devoted to such political maneuverings: to ads, campaign strategies, spin sessions, the drafting and redrafting of speeches and the efforts to achieve ``message discipline.''

Not only do the handlers of Dole and Clinton become central characters in ``The Choice,'' but their infighting (between Dole's Senate staff and campaign staff, between Clinton's White House aides and Morris) is relentlessly documented as well.

In one scene, Woodward depicts a former Dole adviser, William Lacy, as condescending toward the candidate: ``If Dole had confidence in those running his operation, Lacy said, he could be managed. `He is not a micromanager,' Lacy said, `he is a meddler.' By proving themselves, they could reduce Dole's tendency and his opportunities to intrude.''

Why this focus on handlers and handling? It's partly because of today's political climate. But it's also because many of these people have served as primary sources for this book, and because Woodward, a consummate Washington insider himself, seems more interested in campaign tactics, than issues, character or history.

At one point in ``The Choice,'' some aides to Gov. Pete Wilson are quoted, observing that ``Dole was like Clinton, always talking process: the vote count, the mechanics, the legislative back and forth.'' The same might be said of Woodward's book: no vision, no ideas, but lots of inside baseball.

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Photo: no caption (Book cover - THE CHOICE)