Recommended by Philip Middleton Williams

The undertones of this short piece are those of the unspoken but ironclad rules of teens and boarding school life, but are universal in all ages and situations: do not speak the truth out loud but let other ways or words make it clear. We all know this, and Vince Gatton uses the moment to show the shields and the armor-chinks in a way that rings so true for these two boys who are learning how to confront their own feelings for themselves and each other through the immortal words of Shakespeare's meter and joy.

I have learned over my lifetime that certain traditions, be they family stories or those of our faith and practice, have a deeper meaning than just following a ritual. Their origins may have been lost in the mists of time to the point that we cannot see the practical point, but now they offer a connection and a time of reflection. This short play follows a young man serving as the guardian of the soul of a deceased Jewish man, and the time he spends alone with him is revealing, comforting, and deeply touching. Thank you, David Lipschutz.

The story of two very different people being devoted friends is not a new idea, but each time it is told, it sheds a new light on it. In this setting, Sam Heyman has developed a very complex and well-told tale of Lee and Shawn that holds our attention through the peaks and valleys of youth, adolescence, the dawning of maturity, and the consequences of saying the right and wrong thing. The bond between them is tested, and each must learn why they are so bound to each other. A thoughtful and poetic play, very much worth your time.

If there is a lesson to be learned from these moments with Charlie and Wallace, it is that Scott Sickles is the master par excellence of subtext and subliminal layering. These two actors rehearsing their love scene for a film have done everything they can to convince each other and themselves that this is just acting; they're playing parts and following the instructions of the intimacy director. But the heart wants what the heart wants, and the, uh, hard truth is just beneath the surface.

I'm adding this next to Leo Rosten's "The Joys of Yiddish" in my library. There is nothing that clears the mind and the sinuses like a good rant using the most colorful and intricately descriptive language known to this goyisher altekaker. Thank you, David Lipschutz, for this topical yet timeless moment of theatre. And confirming once and for all how to spell "ferkakte."

My father read "A Christmas Carol" to my siblings when we were children. It is, in essence, a story for children as a life lesson interlaced with a ghost story to keep the attention of the wee folk. The lesson is simple: realize what the holiday is all about. But what Adam Richter has done with this story is give us the foundation as to why Ebenezer Scrooge is the way he is and why he despises the sentiment of the day: it is a painful reminder of the love he had for Jacob. Complex, truthful, and brutally beautiful.

Ah, the aspirations of the young and their rebellious music! They will conquer the world and make the cover of "Rolling Stone" before they're 18... but first they have to actually play in front of an audience. Dominica Plummer has captured the true essence of the glory and the heartache of hitting the road to heavy metal domination, including finding a lead guitarist who can get to the show, and the utter shame in finding out that being cool crosses the generations and that creative punctuation can have unintended consequences. Shred on!

The things we believe in are very personal. Our images of icons, be they concocted by faith and practice or drawn from literature or fevered imagination of the One True Love cannot be really described in terms we can share; it's like relating a dream upon wakening. In this monologue, though, DC Cathro has come as close as possible to portraying the moment when Cynthia discovers her secret Santa. What does she see, hear, feel? Ah... that is left to our own imagination, and therein lies the magic and the beauty.

I really need to find out how Christopher Soucy got hold of my family's photos and transcripts of our epic battles over decorating the Christmas tree and the ultimatums that came from them. Cunningly written as a documentary in the vein of the most earnest PBS/David Attenborough's explorations, we are immersed in the traditions and rebellions that bring us to the world of family dysfunction that somehow still manages to continue year after year. Brilliant, farcical, and eminently truthful.

This play took me back nearly sixty years to the annual agony of the family Christmas photo: the struggle to sit still and smile for the 1/100th of a second that it took for the shutter to click and the hours of dread that we all went through to make real. Jen and Jason have that sister/brother relationship that is all too familiar and yet needs to be shared and... well, if not cherished, at least remembered and reconciled far later. I should know: as I write this, four of my family Christmas photos bare mute witness.