Some attractions seem more attractive if you arrive by boat. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny evening when I stepped on to the dock and strolled up the short path leading to the Thielska Galleriet. The museum had been opened to us for a private visit, and we had the great privilege of being able to walk around the rooms without crowds.

The house itself dates back to 1907 and was the home of Ernest Thiel, a wealthy banker, and his wife Signe Maria. It was built in part to showcase their splendid art collection and has been carefully preserved in its original style. For many visitors the centerpiece at Thielska is the collection of paintings by Munch, including his extraordinary portrait of Nietzsche. If all you know of his work is The Scream, the lightness of some of Munch’s work here will be a revelation. There is sculpture in the pretty garden, including work by Rodin.

It’s hard not to sympathize with anyone who takes on the task of writing a biography of John Donne. His was a rich and varied life, driven by a mixture of ambition, restlessness, occasional penury, and an unusual abundance of talent. He was, at various times, a lawyer, diplomat, parliamentarian, adventurer, clergyman, and, of course, one of the greatest poets of the English language. If his prodigious talents were not enough to intimidate would-be biographers, you might think the lack of original sources might be a deterrent. It’s quite remarkable how little is known about a man who, by the end of his life, was something of a celebrity in the worlds of church and state at the beginning of 18th century England.

Any great biographer has to be more than a serious historian. Imagination needs to be married to scholarship, and in that regard Donne is very well served by Katherine Rundell. Super-Infinite: The Transformations of John Donne is a superb piece of work, and richly deserves all the accolades and awards heaped on it. In this account, Donne the man comes alive in all his contradictions and brilliance. “He was a man constantly transforming. He was a one-man procession: John Donne the persecuted, the rake, the lawyer, the bereaved, the lover, the jailbird, the desperate, the striver, the pious”.

It might be argued that the truest sign of a great literary biography is that it drives the reader back to Donne’s own work. I am not convinced. Much of Donne’s prose work, all those sermons, letters, and devotional writings, are far beyond even a well-read general reader today. The poetry is a different matter. I suspect Rundell’s brilliant advocacy for Donne will encourage many to re-visit or read for the first time those extraordinary love poems.

I hadn’t expected to come across a new novel by John Banville when I was browsing the tables of Daunt Books in Marylebone a couple of weeks ago. The surprise was all the more pleasant when I realized The Lock-Up was the latest installment in his Strafford & Quirke series. There is much here that’s familiar. Quirke, the state pathologist, is as curmudgeonly as ever, while Strafford, the “Big House” Protestant detective, is as cool and analytical as his sidekick is emotional and unpredictable. But something is different about The Lock-Up. Perhaps it is the novel’s sweep, covering events not just in Ireland but in wartime Germany and in Israel in the years immediately after its foundation. Or maybe it’s the darker atmosphere; the evil of antisemitism, the horror of its expression in Nazi Germany, and the shameful complicity of the Catholic Church.

This novel was a delight to read, but I think even Banville’s most steadfast fans will conclude, as I did, that the denouement felt hurried and too neatly packaged. The journey was a delight, but the destination was a disappointment.