Exercise in interpretation

On the first page of Arthur Phillips recent “ghost story,” Angelica , we read: “The burst of morning sunlight started the golden dust off the enfolded crimson drapery and drew fine black veins at the edges of the walnut-brown sill. The casement wants repainting, she thought. The distant irregular trills of Angelica’s uncertain fingers stumbling across the piano keys downstairs, the floury aroma of the first loaves rising from the kitchen: from within this thick foliage of domestic safety his coiled rage found her unprepared.”

What do we know of Constance and her setting from this paragraph?

First, the obvious: She is waking up. Her bedroom is upstairs. Some one named Angelica shares a house with her. There is also a man, and he is angry about something.

But then the not-quite-so-obvious. Constance is rich. How do we know? There’s an aroma of bread from the kitchen, and since Constance is still in bed she’s not the one doing the baking. Neither is Angelica, since she’s at the piano. But it’s not just that; it’s the deft addition of “first” and the plural “loaves.” This is a house that produces many loaves of bread a day – or a bakery – but no, not a bakery because Constance is luxuriating in “domestic safety” until “he” spoils it. Just that little phrase – “first loaves” – and an entire social status unfolds before us.

What else do we know? The description of the sunlight in the window suggests a faintly Victorian sort of finery – the slightly archaic “drapery” instead of “curtains,” the fact that they are “crimson,” the dark walnut of the window sill, and especially the fact that they are “enfolded.” But the slightly Victorian finery seems decayed – there’s dust in the drapery (“golden” in the rising sun, but still dust): You can’t get good help. Plus, the casement needs painting. A social status unfolds, and the beginnings of a backstory, perhaps of fading glory.

We know too that Angelica plays the piano, but with “uncertainty” and “stumbling.” Is she just learning? On the second page, we learn that Angelica is a child, but we were already prepared to learn that.

Constance is waking up late. Bread is already baking, and Angelica would not be at the piano if it were break-of-dawn early.

I’ve only read the first chapter, and perhaps some of my hypotheses will prove false. But is this over-reading? Eisegesis? I don’t think so.