Recommended by Philip Middleton Williams

With the wit of Noel Coward and the tension of Edward Albee, Scott Sickles takes us on a journey through the twists and turns of the relationship between Lawrence and his new friend Allan. Despite the best efforts of his ex-lover Niles and bestie Briony, this roller coaster ride is destined for trouble, and all you can do is breathlessly hold on and watch to see what happens.

The script is available from Next Stage Press, and it is a worthy and bracing read.

For reasons I cannot say, this play touched me more than I can say. Which makes it worth reading, seeing, and hearing, because if it has that effect on me, then it will reach people who need to read, see, or hear it. It is moments like this that make up our memories that never leave us. I had a feeling that I knew where Andrew Martineau was taking me, yet I still found wonder and realization when I got to the end, knowing I've been through my own visitation and finding affirmation in seeing it through his eyes.

No matter how old we get -- and I'm getting up there -- we can still remember moments of connection. This moment by Scott Sickles took me back more than sixty years when my brother and I shared a room in our old house and these instances came and went so quickly and without -- at the time -- any meaning. But now, this snapshot brought back sense-memories that are embedded so deeply that all I have to do is think of that moment and I am there. Thank you, Scott.

In "The Crucible," Arthur Miller used the Salem witch trials as the allegory for the McCarthy era, framing the paranoia of the Red Scare as a cautionary tale of the consequences for the accused and accusers. In much the same way, Jerry Slaff uses the case of an American woman convicted of treason during World War II as analogous to the time when truth vs. "alternative facts" made us all wonder where the line between reality and fiction became blurred or obliterated. There are many lessons in this intense two-hander. Ignore them at your peril.

I know that this story has been played out in real life by surviving brothers, but the guarded intimacy and unspoken connection between the brothers in Kim E. Ruyle's short play is striking. It also speaks to the grief and the way they deal with it in their halting yet meaningful exchanges. The contrast between the sense of duty and loyalty versus the will to survive makes this all the more meaningful.

The course of true love never did run smooth, right? How far would a zoo go to keep one of their prize exhibits happy and thriving, not to mention gettin' busy? Allegedly based on a real event, Emily McClain takes this the step farther that only theatre can take us and the outcome is... well, let's just say you'll have to see this staged and find out.

The moments we spend with someone, regardless of their mental state, can be precious but also heart-wrenching. Robin Berl's short piece brings out strong emotions of connection and loss, but never maudlin. The story of this young man making a momentary connection with his aging grandfather has the depth and honesty that we hope we can find when faced with it in our own lives. This play made a special connection with me, and I'm grateful to see it done so well. Thank you, Robin.

This seemingly random collection of vignettes of gay men and their lives laces together in a well-crafted pattern, not unlike a complex work of string art or a fugue. Mark-Eugene Garcia's mix of touching relationships, casual hook-ups, desperate searches for true identity, and rich insight to the all-too-human psyche make this a joy to watch. No one can read this without thinking that they know someone in these stories -- and perhaps even see themselves. This is ensemble theatre and story-telling at its best, and there is not a wasted moment or caricature within it. Beautiful.

What struck me about this story was the continuo of connection that the characters have with each other despite the cultural and generational differences that Lucy Wang brings out in each of them. Plays about families rely on these kinds of conflicts, and so the audience may think they know how it will end. But that's not what happens: growth and acceptance is a two-way journey, and as we watch them come to terms with that reality, the connections, even the strained ones, make for a tale we all can understand.

There is a rhythm to this play like a good jazz piece: driving but subtle at times, powerful at others, but relentless and moving. Effie's life story is moving and compelling, like her music, and as you listen to it, you're drawn in until you're moving along with it. And like a good solid jazz piece, there are surprises, solos, and discordant notes, but always within the whole piece. This would be amazing on stage.