Through the years Morris Seidman of Seidman & Son and Mr. Seidman and the Geisha has appeared and if you remember him, you'll have to own up to quite a few. So does he since now, at 55, the former dress manufacturer is semi-retired with not even half enough to do. His friends want him to play golf and his wife Sophie suggests he see an analyst which he does. A nice analyst yet. So they talk (the book is inclined toward talk) at 60 dollars an hour and in between Morris becomes involved, maybe too involved, with Vangie, a young Barnard girl who when first seen was a topless waitress and when last seen has been both top and bottomless with Morris in a gentle envoi to life and love. . . . All of this tsimmes and tsuris is in the benevolent tradition of Paddy Chayevsky or Harry Golden or both, and it's nice for those who, like Morris, find themselves at the point where they have more to look back on than forward to. And here and there it's good for a smile, a square smile.