Four adults sit in a classroom in Karaj, Iran. It is 2008. They are there to learn a language that feels like both a golden ticket and a cage. This is the deceptively simple setup of English by Sanaz Toossi, a play that managed to snag the 2023 Pulitzer Prize for Drama by doing something most stories about "the immigrant experience" fail to do: it focuses on what is lost in translation before the character even leaves home.
Language is a heist.
Sanaz Toossi understands this better than almost anyone writing for the stage today. In her world, words aren't just tools for communication; they are mirrors that show us a distorted version of ourselves. When the characters in the play speak English, they are hesitant, bumbling, and often seem "lesser than." But Toossi uses a brilliant theatrical conceit to flip the script. When the characters speak their native Farsi, they speak in fast, fluid, and witty English to the audience. It’s a gut-punch of a realization for the viewer. You realize that the "slow" person struggling with a verb tense is actually the smartest, funniest person in the room—you just can't hear it through their accent.
The Karaj Classroom: More Than Just Grammar
The play takes place in a Test of English as a Foreign Language (TOEFL) prep classroom. For the characters Marjan, Elham, Roya, and Omid, the stakes are absurdly high. They aren't just trying to learn a hobby. They are trying to pass a test that determines their entire future.
Marjan, the teacher, lived in Manchester for nine years. She’s the one who enforces the "English Only" rule, a policy that starts as a pedagogical tool and slowly morphs into something much more suffocating. She misses her British life, or at least the version of herself that existed there. Then there’s Elham, a brilliant medical student who has been rejected from schools because her English isn't "perfect" enough, despite her obvious expertise. She resents the language. Honestly, who can blame her? She describes English as a "wall" rather than a bridge.
It’s messy. It’s loud. It’s deeply human.
Most people think English by Sanaz Toossi is a play about learning a language, but it’s actually about the grief of losing your personality. If you can't tell a joke in your second language, are you still a funny person? If you can't express deep grief without stuttering over a preposition, is your grief less valid? Toossi doesn't give us easy answers. She just lets us sit in the room while these people try to navigate the trauma of being misunderstood.
Why the Pulitzer Committee Noticed
The 2023 Pulitzer win wasn't just a fluke or a diversity win. The play is structurally lean and incredibly sharp. Toossi avoids the melodrama that often plagues plays about international politics. There are no mentions of the "Axis of Evil" or heavy-handed political speeches. Instead, the politics are found in the way a grandmother, Roya, records tapes for her son in Canada, desperate for her granddaughter to know her—only to realize her son wants her to speak English to the baby.
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That is political. That is heartbreaking.
Critics from The New York Times and Vulture have noted how the play uses silence as a weapon. Sometimes the most profound moments happen when a character simply gives up trying to find the right word and just stops talking. It’s a specific kind of exhaustion that anyone who has lived between two cultures knows intimately.
The "English Only" Rule and the Erasure of Self
One of the most tension-filled aspects of the play is the "English Only" sign. It hangs in the classroom like a threat. Marjan insists on it because she believes it's the only way her students will survive the TOEFL. But as the play progresses, you see the toll it takes.
- Elham’s anger boils over because she feels like a "child" when speaking English.
- Roya feels like she is betraying her heritage every time she forces her tongue into new shapes.
- Omid, who seems suspiciously good at the language, represents the "perfect" student who might be hiding a more complex reality.
Basically, the play asks: what do you have to kill inside yourself to belong somewhere else?
Toossi’s dialogue is snappy. It’s rhythmic. It doesn't sound like "theatre speak." It sounds like people you know. She captures the specific cadence of Farsi-speakers without ever making them caricatures. This is likely why the play has seen such a massive surge in regional theater productions across the United States. It’s cheap to produce—one set, five actors—but it packs a psychological punch that stays with you for weeks.
Beyond the Classroom: Sanaz Toossi’s Rise
Sanaz Toossi didn't just appear out of nowhere, though it might feel like it. She’s an Iranian-American playwright from New Jersey who has been grinding in the TV and playwriting world for years. Her other play, Wish You Were Here, also explores Iranian life, but English is the one that caught the cultural zeitgeist.
What makes her voice so necessary right now is her refusal to translate for a Western audience. She doesn't explain the culture; she just invites you into it. If you don't get a specific cultural reference, that's okay. You'll feel the emotion behind it anyway. This "show, don't tell" approach is exactly why the play resonates. You aren't watching a documentary; you're eavesdropping on a private struggle.
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What Most People Get Wrong About the Play
A common misconception is that this is a "sad" play. It’s actually surprisingly funny. There’s a lot of humor in the absurdity of language learning. Watching the characters try to understand American pop culture or struggle with the "th" sound provides moments of genuine levity.
But don't let the laughs fool you. The humor is a shield.
When Elham mocks the way Americans talk, she’s doing it to protect herself from the feeling of inadequacy. When Marjan watches Notting Hill over and over again, she isn't just watching a movie; she’s trying to hold onto a version of herself that is slowly fading away as her connection to England grows cold.
Actionable Insights for Theater-Goers and Students
If you’re planning to see a production of English by Sanaz Toossi or if you’re a student of drama studying it, keep these things in mind:
Pay attention to the transitions.
Notice when the characters switch from "fluent" English (representing Farsi) to "broken" English. The shift in their posture, confidence, and speed tells the real story. It’s a physical manifestation of the psychic weight of a foreign tongue.
Look for the subtext of "home."
Every character has a different definition of what home is. For some, it’s a place they want to escape. For others, it’s a place they’ve already lost. Ask yourself: who in this room is actually "at home" in their own skin?
Research the TOEFL context.
Understanding just how difficult and life-altering the TOEFL exam is will help you appreciate the stakes. It isn't just a grade; it’s a visa. It’s a job. It’s the ability to see your grandchildren.
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Watch for the power dynamics.
Marjan has the power because she has the "best" English, but she is also the most trapped. She is caught between two worlds and belongs to neither. This "liminal space" is where the play’s most interesting themes live.
Why It Still Matters in 2026
We live in a world that is more connected and yet more divided than ever. As migration patterns shift and globalization continues to flatten cultures, the themes of English by Sanaz Toossi only become more relevant. It challenges the idea that English is a "neutral" language. It isn't. It carries the weight of empire, class, and exclusion.
By the end of the play, the "English Only" sign might still be there, but the characters have been fundamentally changed. They’ve realized that while they might master the language, they will always be "translating" themselves for a world that might never truly listen.
If you have the chance to see this play, do it. If you can't see it, read the script. It’s a masterclass in empathy and a reminder that the person struggling to find their words in front of you has a whole universe of thought inside them that you’re simply missing out on.
To dive deeper into the world of contemporary drama, start by looking into the "Middle Eastern Playwrights" collections or following the production history at the Atlantic Theater Company where the play premiered. Seeing how different directors handle the language-switch conceit is one of the best ways to understand the flexibility and genius of Toossi’s writing.
Don't just look for the words on the page—listen for the gaps between them. That’s where the real story lives.