From the play which had admiring attention, Mr. Dyer has written a novel featuring that odd couple -- queer couple -- ""grand couple"" -- Harry and Charlie (Dyer), the homosexual backstreet barbers. Inevitably what was a duo-logue on stage and is essentially still that, suffers to a degree from a certain inanition in terms of action, but it is hard to get away from the tatty, plaintive (""O God help us all and Oscar Wilde"") wilted lives of Harry and Charlie: Harry who nurses his bedridden Mum with devotion, while Charlie is cursed out by his 96 year-old Mammie, worries about the unfortunate Episode which will soon bring him into court, remembers his more glorious past, wonders why God made both ""Harry? And me?"" It's not everybody's tipple, but its gentle, ungainly, puckered pathos never falls short of its intended mark. Nor, by the way, does the humor.