Recommended by Steven G. Martin

Read this play now.

Every moment, every syllable, every razor-edged choice Mark Harvey Levine makes in "Not Like Us" -- pay attention to the character names! -- raises my hackles. Levine shows us the evil intersection of racism, slavery, greed, corrupted egos, utter lack of empathy, and probably other gross traits of the privileged I can't name right now. But an audience can't avert its eyes.

This play is painful, like a blister. It's a shaming history lesson. It's a warning about the present. It's dangerous, acidic, and desperately needed. Audiences are going to be knocked onto their asses.

Bo knows football. Bo knows baseball. Scott Sickles knows character.

In "We Ride At Dawn," Sickles has created a brilliant portrait of a young person who probably can pronounce every dinosaur's name and the era they lived in, but now has moved on to obsessions with forestry, entomology, and (seemingly) Arthurian England. So rich is Mill's vocabulary and syntax, Mill's focus on revenge against a (perceived) slight is funny, charming, vaguely terrifying, and full of the most delicious ham.

Actors will love chewing the scenery and being bigger than any human has ever been in Sickles' brief monologue.

It's true. The males of the species don't think with their brains, they think with their aedeagus (look it up). Poor Franz. Lucky Madge.

Scott Sickles's "Head" is a high-concept, 1-minute comedy that plays with well-known insect factoids; it will tickle all audiences from the start, not just entomologists. Movement coaches and costume designers will relish "Head," as will the actors and audience members.

"Desserts" is a gift for two comic female actors. Devorah is much too smart for her own good. And Mimsy ... well, bless her heart. They are a terrific foil for one another.

Scott Sickles has written a very funny, very dark one-minute play that audiences will eat right up. And now I'm all hungry.

"Crater" is a lovely postcoital moment with a rich backstory, a surprising reveal, and an apropos metaphor wrapped in a bittersweet package. But maybe there's hope?

Scott Sickles knows the past -- personal and terrestrial -- leaves a mark -- figurative and literal. Archie isn't ready to stop examining his past just yet, but maybe this dramatized moment will lead to him moving forward.

I love plays in which the setting has an impact -- backstory, character, action, anything. In "The Taco Belle of Fruitvale," Oakland is very important -- it's the impetus for Belle's actions (Oakland supports Oakland) and creates a bond between her and Marcel.

Belle are Marcel are wonderfully rich, dimensional characters; credit Conrad A Panganiban's skills. Also for creating a script in which the lives of these characters will change based on the decisions they've made.

"The Taco Belle of Fruitvale" is terrific, and I hope it receives many productions.

Thank goodness for librarians and empathy.

This play unfolds beautifully because of Colleen O'Doherty's skills. Patty's search and Allyson feeling aghast are humorous, then the tone turns somber as O'Doherty provides context with a single word. It grounds Patty's desperation and Allyson's frustration in something deeper than jokes about book titles.

What I especially love about "Ricky and Ready" is that O'Doherty has dramatized a life-changing moment for Patty. It's not a happy one, but it probably provides the best path ahead for her and, by lessening Allyson's frustrations, also Allyson.

You ever get a sinking sensation in your chest when absolutely everything that should have gone right, goes wrong? Billy and Gene must feel a similar sensation thanks to everything Lisa Dellagiarino Feriend puts them through in "Heist!"

One of the neatest parts of this very funny comedy is that an audience feels sympathy for Billy and Gene. They're thieves, yes, but in a "Hey buddy, I've come up with a get-rich-quick scheme that'll have us on Easy Street" way. And their complete unpreparedness -- and moments of kind humanity -- is touching.

"Wishes" is a beautiful, shining copper penny of a short play. The imagery, beautiful. The romance, beautiful. The theatricality of the action and conflict and backstory, beautiful. And at its core: a man and a woman who both want love, but are at a crossroads in finding it. Simple, direct humanity, which is lovely.

Mark Harvey Levine's writing is a dream that everyone would wish to live in.

This short comedy is funny, yes, but it's also emotionally and intellectually stirring. Bridget Grace Sheaff reminds us sometimes we have to venture forth with nothing but our belief, our faith, our optimism as resources. Nothing is certain, but that doesn't mean we stop trying. "And Maybe a River Will Come" is thoughtful and funny, and will bring a smile to audiences' faces.