In contrast to Shakespeare, his contemporary whose dramatic poetry thrilled the masses, Donne wrote poems for his elite circle. Rundell brings the Renaissance poet to life as if he were still with us.ĭonne’s poetry is famously tricky to master. They didn’t just use poetry for courtship but to make friends and enemies, undermine the monarchy, explain God and explore death.
Everyone wrote sonnets,” explains Rundell. “It would have been incredibly rare to be an educated man and not write poetry. Poems were treasured, folded into small pieces and passed from hand to hand. This was before the days of novels and newspapers. And there are accounts of little boys peeing on the floor and then skating along it like an ice rink.”īut the Dean of St Paul’s is far better remembered as a poet in an era when poetry was central to cultural life, alongside theatre and music. Young gallants with spurs on their boots walked through the cathedral, chased by choirboys who would fine them for wearing spurs. “You could climb up the roof to etch your initials into the soft lead. “It was said that if you wanted to get the latest fashion, you’d take your tailor there, and you’d be able to get the perfect suit copied from one of the exquisitely clad men parading his elegance around the church.” It was also unruly. “The cathedral was, of course, a place of devotion and worship, but it was also loud and busy-a place to display your newest hats and coats,” she explains. I ask Rundell to take us back 400 years to the days of Donne. As the last tourists and worshippers leave the building, mice come out and scuttle across the stone floor of the cavernous chamber. The sound of a choir singing evensong floats through the circular grates above us. We meet in the crypt at St Paul’s Cathedral, where the poet preached for the final decade of his life. My hope was that they would finish the book and immediately go and find his poetry.” I wanted to write something that would be gripping enough to take hold of people by the wrist, even those who perhaps wouldn’t think they could be interested in John Donne, and pull them through his life. She describes Super-Infinite: The Transformations of John Donne as “both a biography and act of evangelism. Rundell wants to share her passion for Donne. Reciting it, she brings the fantastic imagery to life: One poem that captured her imagination was “ Go and Catch a Falling Star,” which sparked a lifelong passion for John Donne.
They’d pin poems next to the bathroom sink and pay her a few cents for each one she learned by heart. She also loved reading, something her parents encouraged. School finished at midday, after which she’d head outside to climb trees and build rafts. Katherine Rundell’s childhood in Zimbabwe was the stuff of dreams. The following first appeared in Trust Magazine
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