Journalist Marjorie Klein devotes her debut novel Test Pattern to exploring the impact of a new television on one coastal Virginia household in 1954. The tale is told in alternating chapters by two protagonists: thirtyish housewife Lorena Palmer, who secretly wants to be a June Taylor dancer, and her 11-year-old daughter Cassie, who stares into the off-hour test pattern and glimpses programs that won't be on the air for decades. Klein's blend of the mundane and the fantastical keeps the book lively, even as her story travels an uninspired path, with Palmer cuckolding her gruff, commie-hating husband. The cliched portrait of the '50s as a landscape of Red-baiters, misunderstood bohemians, and stifled ambition is partly redeemed by the nuances of the two female leads, whose dissatisfaction is rooted in more than just the squareness of their times. Unfortunately, Test Pattern gets some of its facts wrong: The Wizard Of Oz wasn't yet released when Lorena was named Miss Buckroe Beach of 1938, Bob Barker didn't host Truth Or Consequences in 1954, and, even on Cassie's mysterious future-casts, it's unlikely that Bart Simpson's sister's name is Sally. But whatever failings Test Pattern has as a historical document, the novel shows remarkable insight into life in a small-town, working-class family, as well as the idea of a window to cultures and characters a thousand miles removed. In Cassie's case, the view extends even further, into the wonders of the coming hippie lifestyle and on into the sex-and-scandal-obsessed media of today. After a few months of looking into the more honest and open television of her future, even Cassie begins to wish that all TV was more like Mr. Peepers and I've Got A Secret. As for the author, Klein seems torn between nostalgia and disdain for the naivete of the past. From the moment TV was introduced, it enabled anyone with a set to sit in a living room and dream of being a celebrity (or at least of being as well-off and happy as the middle-class sitcom families), but Klein understands that having the world brought to the front porch can make a house feel uncomfortably small.