When several publishing houses reject a manuscript by a Nobel Prize-winner like Saul Bellow, it's a sure sign that something is wrong. But I was optimistic as I began reading his new novella A Theft, convinced that I would discover an overlooked masterpiece. Unfortunately, all those publishing houses were not wrong.

Bellow's book is a first-class mystery--and that's not a compliment. True, the plot could be called a mystery in the standard literary sense, but the book's theme, purpose and often its characters are enigmas themselves.

Clara Velde is a Wellesley-educated Midwesterner who runs a "journalistic agency specializing in high fashion for women" in New York. Bellow devotes almost two-thirds of the 109-page work to her personal history. She is in the middle of her fourth marriage, but the only man she truly loves is Ithiel "Teddy" Regler, a stereotypically powerful diplomat.

When an emerald ring that Teddy gave to Clara many years before is stolen, Clara holds her Viennese au pair girl responsible for its return. Clara believes that the servant's boyfriend is the thief.

The novella can be considered on two levels--but either way it falls short of what a reader would expect from Bellow. The book could have been a standard mystery story but it provides no real suspense. It also could have been an exercise in subtle symbolism, but it provides no real insights.

My guess is that Bellow made a poor attempt at the latter. His plot is so weak and the book's structure so seemingly arbitrary that whenever a theme--usually Clara and Teddy's love--is introduced, it is lost in the confusion.

There are too many unimportant characters, like Clara's psychologist and her confidante, who get pages and pages of attention, while interesting characters remain undeveloped and potentially intriguing conflicts go unresolved.

Bellow gives considerable space to descriptions of Clara's ex-husbands who never appear in the story. These characterizations are entertaining but do little to enhance our understanding of the important characters. One of the main characters, the au pair girl's boyfriend, is never introduced in person. This technique could be effective if it were underscoring a theme of anonymity or detachment. But in many cases, it seems as if Bellow either forgets about the characters or just does not care enough to develop them.

A Theft

By Saul Bellow

New York: Penguin Books, 1989

$6.95

The only part of the book that Bellow develops fully is Clara's character. Her name says it all: She is a combination of a naive, good-mannered, rural woman (Clara) and a lustful, svelte, executive yuppie (Velde). Bellow actually addresses the reader, as if to say that Clara, and not the plot, is what's important.

"Her father, remember, was still a vestryman and her mother sent checks to TV fundamentalists. In a sophisticated boardroom Clara could be as plain as cornmeal mush, and in such a mood, when she opened her mouth, you couldn't guess whether she would speak or blow bubble gum."

`Important Person'

Bellow also does a good job of emphasizing the depth of Clara's love for Teddy. She seems to worship the "important person" but fails in her attempts to include herself in his professional political life. "When she came into her own, Clara thought, she'd set up a fund for him so he could write his views," Bellow writes.

But the intense characterization seems useless when Clara admits that she loves the au pair girl and desperately tries to keep her from returning to Vienna. This unexpected twist is completely alien to the character that Bellow so meticulously created. Nothing earlier in the book prepares the reader for such an incongruous revelation. It appears to come from nowhere and undermine any sense of Clara's character which Bellow may have created.

If Bellow had expanded A Theft to a full-length novel, he could have developed all these interesting characters and fully organized the scattered plot. On the other hand, he could have easily condensed the book into an effective short story, focusing on Clara and eliminating useless characters and anecdotes.

If only Bellow could have staged a literary coup by sneaking a brilliant work into a 100-page paperback. Instead, it looks as if Bellow should have followed the publishers' advice and left this one on his word processor.