Recommended by Claudia Haas

Carnes takes away the antiseptic numbers reported in mass shootings and replaces them with their humanity. Instead of a numeric death toll, you are left with knowledge that you knew the victims or wished you did. You see them, you mourn for them. A painful reckoning of the good that is robbed by gun violence.

Wang infuses Anna Mae Aquash with such smarts and courage, it makes the knowledge of her early death more unbearable. As we finally are calling attention to the numerous, unsolved deaths and disappearances of indigenous women, Aquash’s story needs to be told again and again. For her daughters, for her grandchildren and most importantly for all of us. Nothing will change until we acknowledge this history. My Aim is True is a first step in educating ourselves to be better, fairer, more honest with ourselves, and ultimately more honorable. Produce Wang’s play and make a start.

The sun. A son. A shooting star with limitless potential? Or a rock on fire that burns itself up? Tatelman poses these questions as she brings to life Arthur Miller, his wife Inge Morath and the ever-present but never seen Daniel, their son. A fable of a man who championed the forgotten American as he chooses to forget his son so that he can continue his artistic life. Is there morality in art? Can the art and the artist be separated? The play blends heartbreak with a calculating lens. I was riveted throughout and overwhelmed with might have been.

Kaplan gives us a poignant piece on the forgotten people. It’s a remembrance of those who blazed trails for others and now remain in the dustbins of history. Imaginatively conceived, it makes you think of your assumptions. The end is a sweet nod to those who came before.

Now and forever... unless you are divorcing... commemorating a love even if the love is past. Bittersweet, truthful, and honest, Cavanaugh covers the development of a relationship. In just a few pages, you see the early love and the progression into divorce. And you wish that they would have made it.

Wistful and yearning. Memories can soothe and be salt on a wound. Rushton explores them side-by-side as the characters (seen and unseen) endear themselves to you. Heartfelt remembrances of love past and present.

What a pleasure it is to have June have her say. After seeing many productions of Gypsy, I always wanted more of June. What happened to the breadwinner of many years? DeVita does a stellar job of giving us June Havoc/Havick and the contentious relationship she had with Gypsy/Louise. Her fight for her say in how her life is portrayed resonates. We know the fable. DeVita gives us new perspective. A theatre would do well to stage this as a companion piece to Gypsy (using the same cast!). A talkback after would finally be illuminating.

It is unusual to find a play about writing that doesn’t include crumpled pieces of paper thrown around and typewriters (computers) thrown out windows. Gacinski finds the passion in creating, the reality of predators (producers and yes, other writers), and the dream of creating something that resonates. Gacinski gives us lyrical poetry, a man searching for love in many aspects, and a setting ripe for art. Italy meets France meets USA and the collision breaks people. There are some clever, satirical references to theatre that are accurate. But you never stop hoping for the play that leaves you breathless.

Family secrets, half truths - they are not always born out of shame. Some of them just contain too much pain. Koppen does a lovely job introducing us to a fairly, close-knit family - foibles and all. At the height of what should be a joyous celebration, there is a knock at the door. And without any extraneous dialogue, you know that the celebration abruptly turned into mourning. The play turns a light on a family as we witness their world turn upside down. And you care.

A shrewd, little tale of culpability on a crime where you are the victim. Clever, with a lot of truths to be found here. Don’t limit this for a Me, Too program. Produce it widely.