DISCLOSURE, by Michael Crichton, Alfred A. Knopf, 504 pages, $24.

The issue of sexual harassment in the workplace is one of the most fervently debated topics of this decade; it was only a matter of time before a well-known writer produced a popular novel with harassment as its subject, and it was Michael Crichton who chose to seize the day.

Since the marketing triumph of “Jurassic Park,” Crichton has become one of the hottest writers in the business. In a rare move, the deal for “Disclosure” was reached on the strengths of writer and topic alone, before a word of text was written.

Propelled by straightforward, workmanlike prose, “Disclosure” moves along at a brisk pace that makes the book read quickly and easily — perfect for our remaining cold, snowy winter nights.

The action begins on the Monday when Tom Sanders, a division manager at Digital Communications Technology, leaves for work expecting to receive a promotion. DigiCom, based in Seattle, is about to be acquired by Conley-White, a publishing conglomorate based in New York; restructuring plans and promotions are scheduled to be announced that morning. Tom is a “technical manager” and not privy to high-level decisions; his work primarily involves development of CD-ROMs and electronic databases. Still, everyone is stunned when the expected promotion goes instead to Meredith Johnson, a woman based at one of DigiCom’s other locations and generally agreed to be without appropriate background.

The kicker is that, years earlier, Tom and Meredith had a live-in relationsihp which had lasted about six months; they have not spent time together for a decade. He considers her to be “good-looking, sexy, and smart … but he never imagined that she had the ability to hold a major corporate position.” When Phil Blackburn, the company attorney, tells Tom that his coveted job has gone to Meredith, Phil senses that there will be trouble about the reorganization. Tom is considered to be “too independent” and “not a team player.” It is assumed that the appointment has to do with favoritism and quotas; DigiCom has few women in high-level posts, and Meredith just happens to be the protege of its chief executive officer.

Tom is obviously still attracted to Meredith, and she immediately reminds him how important their previous relationship had been to her. Their first private conversation begins in air heavy with innuendo and moves to an out-and-out pass instigated by Meredith; she pays no attention when Tom reminds her that he is no longer single. Soon she literally assaults him on the office couch, and though he is not totally unresponsive, he ultimately rejects her, leaving her furious. Tom realizes: “There would be trouble later. … He did not want an affair with his boss. He did not even want a one-night stand.”

Initially Tom wants to forget the incident, and here his experience parallels those of women:

“He found it hard to believe that it had happened. He reviewed the events in his mind, trying to see just where he had gone wrong. He felt certain that it was all his fault, that he had misled Meredith in some important way. … He felt guilty and miserable — and deeply uneasy about the future. What would happen now? What would she do?”

Tom quickly learns that he can’t trust Meredith, let alone work for her, and consults the company attorney, but he is not believed; Meredith has already charged Tom with harassment.

From this point, things slide downhill; Crichton writes far more credibly about dinosaurs than about people. One wants to feel sorry for Tom, but it is difficult, because he is the classic wishy-washy personality, a man who never seems to know what he wants, or how he feels, in any given situation, and this behavior is well represented in the assault scene (which also unfortunately perpetrates the myth of the “male-out-of-control”). One of Tom’s colleagues tells him flat out: “This innocent act is a lot of crap. Don’t you take any responsibility for anything?”

Tom immediately hires his own attorney, the battle is joined, and soon he begins to realize what he has gotten himself into. When he wonders if he could have prevented the incident, his answer is:

“(O)f course, he could not have prevented it. Not in a contemporary climate where men were assumed to be guilty of anything they were accused of.

“Among themselves, men sometimes talked of suing women for false accusations. They talked of penalties for damage caused by those accusations. But that was just talk. Meanwhile, they all changed their behavior. There were new rules now, and every man knew them.”

The biggest problem with “Disclosure” is that it promises one thing and delivers something else. While it purports to deal with the issue of sexual harassment, the real subject of the book is corporate game-playing; harassment is nothing but a red herring.

In the end, Crichton fails himself as well as his readers. “Disclosure” could have been a groundbreaking book; instead it is merely another mediocre novel of corruption in corporate America. The situation portrayed in “Disclosure” is far afield of real-life harassment situations, and by trivializing what happens to Tom, Crichton concomitantly trivializes the experiences of all persons victimized by such behavior.

Had this book dealt with the sexual harassment as advertised, its author could have rendered its readers a much needed service; as it stands, we continue to wait for someone else to take on the issue in an honest, straightforward fashion. Those who want to read about corporate gamesmanship will be perfectly contented with this book; those who intend to read it for enlightenment on harassment should pass it by.

Janet C. Beaulieu lives in Bangor.