Recommended by Jillian Blevins

CLYT, an astonishing retelling of Agamemnon from the perspective of Clytemnestra, is an exploration of feminine rage that grows, secretly, inside women who are often ignored and forgotten. This Clytemnestra is a woman overshadowed by her sister, subsumed by duty and motherhood, seeking solace (and perhaps rebirth) in her bathtub, who is pushed over the edge by a casually vicious betrayal. Speckman’s visceral imagery and poetically brutal prose make her play an electric read.

CLYT is beautifully crafted, uniquely theatrical, and powerfully told. Like Clyt herself, it demands to be heard.

MOSQUE4MOSQUE’s compelling protagonist, Ibrahim, is a self-destructive millennial desperate to understand himself. Assimilation doesn’t feel right, but neither does strict adherence to Islam. He loves his white boyfriend, but knows there’s a part of him he’ll never understand. He resents and fiercely loves his mother, and he alternately wants his sister Lena to be his friend or his child.

M4M defies categorization: it’s a queer play, an immigrant play, a family play—ultimately, it’s a story about the complexities of love and identity, with an ending that’s a call to action.

I’ve read or seen a million plays about domestic strife; a husband/wife or boyfriend/girlfriend have an argument and resolve it in ten minutes. It’s very cute. It’s very tired.

Daniel Prillaman turns the trope on its head by mashing it up with torture porn in ways that are gruesome, ironic, and hilarious. If you’ve ever had an argument with a significant other about watching a streaming show without them, you’ll relate to this one. And then feel weird about it.

This witty epilogue for the primary lovers of As You Like It is full of delightful language and emotional resonance. Monica Cross is clearly a master of writing in verse, deploying a whole toolbox full of Shakespearian tricks of the trade to enhance the meaning of the text and offer actors insight into their characters. (The use of asides to highlight irony, and shared lines between Rosalind and Orlando as they approach a renewed understanding are particularly effective.) DOUBLE-CROSS-DRESSING offers an insightful truth about marriage: keeping secrets from each other erodes intimacy, while a shared secret deepens it.

On its surface, The Not is a chilling supernatural confessional. But as we go deeper into Sasha’s dark tale, the creature stalking her takes on a new significance. Her monster is real—and it may also a manifestation of her PTSD. She’s being haunted by her trauma, which no one else seems to see or believe.

Gardener’s smart choice to leave out any descriptors of the “thing” stalking her protagonist lets our imaginations do the work, which, as all good horror writers know, makes it much scarier. The Not is heartbreaking and terrifying in equal measure.

Andean Mountains intentionally defies categorization. Is it a monologue? A presentation? Ultimately, it’s an invitation to join in on a desperate search for meaning. Roa uses geography as a metaphor for biography as their non-binary, Columbian-American protagonist hunts for answers about their identity amid Google Maps of the places they’ve been. Don’t we all wish we had a map to follow when we feel lost, that we could follow a marked route that ends in belonging? Andean Mountains is filled with palpable yearning for community and connection, and deserves an audience to offer it to its protagonist.

All Our Pretty Songs is a gut punch of a 15-minute play. Sabrina and Jeanine are juicy characters absolutely vibrating with the unique kind of rage born from grief. With tremendous specificity, Schultz economically conveys a complex history in one devastating confrontation. AOPS is a scathing critique of our flawed justice system and the court of public opinion, and an exploration of how the pain of a single tragic event can metastasize, consuming its survivors.

A modern family drama rich with complex history and humor, AFIKOMEN makes resonant use of Passover symbolism and explores how shared trauma can leave us lost and broken, or found and on our way to healing. The Rubin’s story is a microcosm of the generational trauma navigated by so many Jewish families. Heyman’s sensitive portrayal of Rivka, a tween trying to understand her father’s hidden history, is especially touching. Jewish readers will immediately find the Rubins familiar, but AFIKOMAN is relatable to anyone trying to find themselves, and to be seen by their loved ones.

Simply put, this piece is remarkable. Both an homage to and a subversion of dysfunctional family plays, Drinking With Mom’s Dog feels like the psychedelic heir to the work of O’Neill and Odets. Jones’ spiky, damaged, aching characters offer much for actors to sink their teeth into, and his playful and poetic use of language is nothing short of masterful.

Charles Scott Jones might just be my new favorite playwright. Excuse me while I binge the rest of his work.

If you’ve ever thought to yourself, “I really like Shakespeare In Love, but I wish it were a little more like Game of Thrones,” then you must read Treason At The Globe. Boyle’s masterful political thriller combines edge-of-your-seat twists and turns and a richly drawn and well-researched historical setting. Boyle cuts through our tendency to romanticize Elizabethan England with razor-sharp dialogue revealing the ruthless political climate roiling underneath. Full of gems for Shakespeare lovers, Treason’s as fun as it is gripping. Like Horatio, we’re immersed in the intrigue from the first lines to the last.