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  • A Song at Dead Man’s Cove by Ana Yudin

    A Song at Dead Man’s Cove by Ana Yudin

    Salt. Silence. Storm.

    In towns with fewer streetlights than secrets, silence can be a form of survival. A Song at Dead Man’s Cove by Ana Yudin doesn’t explode with noise—it resonates. It asks what happens when a place holds grief so deeply, it begins to whisper back. This is not a story of sharp twists or fast chases. It’s one of tides—slow, steady, inevitable.

    There’s something uncanny about the way Yudin builds atmosphere. The town in this novel isn’t just a setting—it’s a mood. Readers might find themselves imagining the scent of wet rocks and rust, the hush of early mornings thick with sea fog. Her worldbuilding isn’t loud. It’s textured. Sensory. You feel the weight of every unspoken word between characters, every watchful glance, every unconfirmed sighting in the cove.

    It’s rare for a YA novel to feel this spatially aware. Most books focus on action or character or theme. This one, somehow, does all that while paying close attention to architecture and weather. From the peeling paint of a coastal hotel to the strange comfort of dim hallway lamps, the details carry emotional charge. There’s poetry in how the rooms Zarya moves through reflect her own uncertainty—too clean to feel lived in, too worn to be comforting.

    This book aches in quiet places. It’s about the stories people inherit without realizing. It’s about emotional legacy—what’s passed down not in words, but in glances, in warnings, in walls that have seen too much. Yudin invites readers to explore what it means to live in a place that has decided, quietly, that certain things should never be discussed out loud.

    And yet, it never loses its warmth. This isn’t bleak. It’s careful. It’s honest. There’s a rare kind of hope in characters who ask questions when others would rather forget. Zarya is one of them. She’s not here to save the town, or fall into a fate she never asked for. She’s here to listen. And in doing so, she uncovers something stranger and softer than heroism: understanding.

    This book will find its readers—not among those looking for swordfights or chosen ones, but among those who believe the past doesn’t stay buried just because you stop speaking its name. Fans of books like The Raven Cycle or Tidelands will feel right at home here. It’s not a page-turner in the traditional sense. It’s something better—it’s a book you sit with.

    A Song at Dead Man’s Cove is not for everyone. But for those it is for, it will matter deeply. It’s a story you don’t just read. You return to it, like waves returning to shore, over and over again.

    Voyages of Verses Book Award

    This book is a winner of the Voyages of Verses Book Award, a recognition for books that expand the horizon of what literature can achieve. We honor works that challenge preconceived notions, broaden worldviews, and celebrate the rich blend of voices that shape our global narrative. Whether it’s a novel that immerses you in a different culture, a collection of poems that captures the essence of shared humanity, or a nonfiction account that sparks critical thought, the Voyages of Verses Book Award celebrates stories that invite exploration and discovery. 

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