Great plays know why they are on the stage, not a bookstore shelf or silver screen. “English” by Sanaz Toossi is about five characters in an English classroom in Iran, studying for the Test of English as a Foreign Language. All characters speak two languages, their native Farsi and the English they’re learning. But its central theatrical idea is what makes it click in live performance: when they speak English it is with an Iranian accent, and when they speak Farsi it is performed as unaccented English. It is a deceptively simple idea, one that doesn’t even entirely click on the pages of the script—it breathes and becomes magical through live performance.
Theater, of course, is a medium built around dialogue as an individual and imperfect form of communication, as well as internal and external conflicts. In “English”, communication is conflict: the central concept of Farsi translated to English allows us to understand the difficulty of “bringing the inside to the outside” (6) without the toolbox of your native tongue. In Toossi’s writing, Farsi dialogue is thorough, filled with formality you might find in an essay. When the character Roya says ““I won’t apologize for my displays of affection, however voracious” (36) in Farsi, it contrasts with her dialogue in English, where she often struggles to find the words— “Why you give my granddaughter name I cannot say?” (41.) In a medium where describing what you are feeling is half the job, every character struggles in a language that is not their own.
Behind that struggle, Toossi importantly shows us their intelligence. The best playwrights find beauty in the simplest of words, poets in everyday people. Not all English dialogue spoken in the play is stilted or laden with misnomers - much of it has a beautiful poetry, all the more powerful because these characters literally don’t have the words.
“When I speak English. My ears ring.
But your English. Floats along the water.
One day you will be far away from here.
I wonder who I will speak with then.” (55)
The line breaks and periods in the English sections serve two functions: first, helping an actor understand the amount of thought the character puts into every syllable and the pauses they must take to come up with even the most innocuous words, contrasting with the free-form prose of Farsi dialogue. Sections in English also end up resembling verse poetry – showing the beauty in characters struggling to say something, the power in every word when every word is difficult.
The central theatrical idea of “English” might resonate with audience members differently, but always in a way that promotes understanding. For a bilingual audience member, they will see themselves, the silly mistakes they made while learning a language, the experience of being an outsider in the place where their second language is the primary one spoken - perhaps even the experience of leaving a country you love because a regime makes it impossible to stay longer. For a white theatergoing audience member whose ancestors immigrated long ago, it could make you think about interacting with someone with an international accent – How long did it take for them to learn English? Are they still learning it? What is their native language – what is their story?
Toossi imagined these characters in response to Trump’s travel ban in 2017, coined the “Muslim ban” by him and his administration. Seeing a play like “English” implicitly reminds an audience of what an immigrant goes through to move to another country: what they leave behind not just of their home, but themselves in the process of assimilation. Every character seeks a different English speaking country—England, America, Canada, Australia—but the motivation is the same, to get away from Karaj, Iran in 2008. We’re never told direct reasons why they want to move, leaving it all under the surface and not allowing a western audience to receive the stories about the “Middle East” we’re used to. Toossi knows the impression the west has of Iran; she doesn’t need to explain why the four women of the play want to move away, and why the man who desires to stay has an easier time making that choice. We don’t beg for those narratives because they exist as subtext, allowing for further understanding without over explanation.
The five characters in “English” reflect a different aspect of learning a second language, to paint a full portrait of why people learn English and how learning a second language can change them. Toossi, smartly, doesn’t look to define a lesson or answer every question: she wants to ask us questions that we must discuss and answer, and she does this through five different and diverging character arcs.
At the beginning and end of the play, let’s say each of the five characters was asked to agree or disagree with a thematic statement. “English” is a play about how learning a new language represents learning a new culture, and whether or not you can assimilate to said culture. With that in mind, the statement I’ve imagined is “I can assimilate to English.” Here’s where each character would fall on a Likert scale.
I can Assimilate to English (beginning)
Strongly Disagree: Elham
Disagree: Roya
Unsure: Goli
Agree: Omid
Strongly Agree: Marjan
Marjan strongly agrees because she is the English teacher of the six-week advanced English class studying for the TOEFL. Her classroom is English only – not just for learning purposes, but because Marjan wants to embody the “English-only” persona gained from spending nine years in Manchester living as Mary. She develops a crush on Omid, her student who speaks English better than her, because she sees his potential, both as an English speaker and as a man in a patriarchal society. When that falls apart, when she fails as a teacher, she questions “How long can you live in isolation from yourself?” (71) and ponders her own possibilities. Marjan is firm at the beginning of the play and unsure by the end.
Her crush, Omid, speaks English best because he’s not from Karaj, but Ohio—born to immigrant parents in America. He takes the class because “All [his] life, [he’s] felt like half a thing” (68) - for the first time, he is better than the teacher at English. He is drawn to her enthusiasm for English, her enthusiasm for him. But his excellence is built on a lie, one which reflects his lack of a solid sense of identity. He decides to stay in Karaj, a place where he can feel superior and has opportunity afforded to him as a man - a place where he no longer needs to assimilate.
Omid’s nemesis is Elham, a woman who strongly opposes colonialism, racism, all of which is represented to her in the English language that Omid “perfected.” But she is a gastroenterologist and wants opportunities that will never be provided for her in Karaj. She is an overachiever who, when it comes to the TOEFL, can’t achieve, having failed it five times already. She takes out her frustration on those who can. She wants everyone to know “I am not idiot” (23) - before Marjan corrects her grammar. By the end, however, Elham has passed the TOEFL and is planning to move to Australia. She accepts she must assimilate - but she knows that “When [she] speak[s] English, [she] will always be stranger” (75).
Roya doesn’t want to be a stranger, not to her granddaughter Claire who will grow up learning English. She must assimilate for her sake, even if she begged for Claire to be named “something even remotely Iranian” (35). She feels left behind by her Canadian son, Nader, who now goes by Nate. He can assimilate—Roya can’t. She leaves the class after playing an “unapologetically Iranian” (45) song and never appears in the play again.
Goli begins the play unsure which name she prefers, her given name or English name. She’s the most in the middle, taking the class for the opportunities it could provide without any real idea of what she wants in particular - other than to be an English speaker. She has dreams: the optimism of a life away from Karaj, the idea of someone who can assimilate to English if she wants to and without reservations for the culture she’s leaving behind, the identity she’s leaving behind. She can assimilate, she knows it! Or at least she’s young enough to believe it.
Every character’s journey, distinct and clear, leaves them in a different spot. Who can we identify with? Every single one. There is no audience cipher to tell us what to believe, only five characters to experience. We start the play with Goli, unsure, and see her become the most idealistic about English. She trades places with Marjan, who we end the play with - just as confused about her identity as Goli was at the beginning. Rather than ending with an answer, we end with a masterful and intentional sense of confusion.
I can Assimilate to English (ending)
Strongly Disagree: Roya
Disagree: Omid
Unsure: Marjan
Agree: Elham
Strongly Agree: Goli
I summarize not to take away the power of the story, merely to point out its economy. Toossi accomplishes more in her 90-105 minute play than many playwrights do with 200. Five characters are thoroughly explored through clashing beliefs, personal and political, and each changed in varied, distinct, and believable ways. By the end, all we are left with as an audience is a difficult question: “Could I assimilate to another language?” Would I be closest to Roya, Omid, Marjan, Elham, or Goli by the end of the play?
It is a question you can only answer for yourself.