Seren Parry is considered one of the finest translators of Welsh literature into English. Reviewers describe her work as having an unusual richness and a sense of multiple perspectives held in balance. They are not wrong. Seren has been carrying five people inside her for fifteen years.

Her mother. Her uncle. Her grandmother. Her cousin. Her father. All of them dead. All of them perceiving the world through her senses, feeling what she feels, contributing to every word she writes. She has managed the condition through discipline, routine, and a system so meticulous it has kept her functional, professional, and completely alone for a decade and a half.

Then she is offered the commission of a lifetime: a new English translation of the Mabinogi, the foundational text of Welsh literature. The work activates the collaboration at an intensity the system was never designed to sustain. The translation is extraordinary. The translation is also dissolving her. The boundaries between Seren and her passengers are failing. Their memories are becoming hers. Their preferences have replaced her own. Their emotions bleed through her body in both directions. And she can no longer tell, with certainty, which of the six people inside her is the one whose name will appear on the title page.

The Choir of Angels is a novel about authorship and identity, about the things we inherit from the dead, and what we make from what we inherit. It is about what happens when the most extraordinary work of your life is not entirely yours. It is about a choir of voices vying for control of one living person, and the struggle to complete the work of a lifetime.