This book club has everything: great titles, a dynamic facilitator, interesting company all deeply engaged in relating works of literature to their life experiences. The only hitch is you have to be in prison to join. Ex-librarian Karen Lausa's largely volunteer effort to bring serious books into the Colorado Department of Corrections, which began with a group of lifers at Limon in 2012, has expanded to several other facilities, demonstrating that incarcerated men and women, adults and juveniles are all hungry for a good story — and a chance to reflect on what it can teach them about their own wrong turns and possible paths to redemption.

It's good to be king. It's even better to be at Breakfast King when everyone else is asleep and you're looking for a home away from home, a home where the friendly, wisecracking servers know not just your name, but your regular order. That's likely to be chicken-fried steak smothered in country gravy — the best chicken-fried steak in the city at any time of the day — sided with endless cups of coffee. But the kitchen is cooking up that huge menu at all hours, so you can also get eggs any way imaginable, comfort-food dinners, or just a big slice of pie to soak up some of the coffee. No matter what you order, it will be a feast fit for a king.

Founding troupe member Evan Weissman has been missing from the Buntport stage for a while. "It's like breaking away from family," he says. "Even if you want to, you can't, and I don't want to." So it was a joy to witness his return as Alec the Amazing and All Powerful in this season's terrific revival of Jugged Rabbit Stew. Alec is a magician filled with delusions of grandeur but unable to perform a single trick, since the real magic lies in the paws of his angry and vicious white rabbit, Snowball — who has actually magicked away Alec's right arm. Alec doesn't seem to mind, however. He's filled with bouncy joie de vivre, along with inexplicable love for nasty Snowball, a love he celebrates in a full-throated song about "That Special Hare." Perhaps it was Weissman's delight at being back on stage that made him perform with such fizz and brio. Whatever it was, bravo, Alec!

We've seen Cajardo Lindsey playing thoughtful, temperate people for a few years now and doing it very well, but before he appeared in Curious Theatre Company's The Brothers Size, we'd never understood the man's sheer power as an actor. In this myth- and dream-saturated story, Lindsey played Orgun, owner of an auto shop. His younger brother, Oshoosi, had just been released from prison, and Orgun expected him to enter the same trade, but Oshoosi preferred to laze in bed and fantasize about freedom, car rides and pussy. In the Yoruba tradition, Orgun is a blacksmith, and Cajardo, beating metal into submission, towered over the evening, terrifying in his anger, heartbreaking in his grief, both human and larger than human, and sometimes — like the play itself — wonderfully and unexpectedly funny.

We've seen Cajardo Lindsey playing thoughtful, temperate people for a few years now and doing it very well, but before he appeared in Curious Theatre Company's The Brothers Size, we'd never understood the man's sheer power as an actor. In this myth- and dream-saturated story, Lindsey played Orgun, owner of an auto shop. His younger brother, Oshoosi, had just been released from prison, and Orgun expected him to enter the same trade, but Oshoosi preferred to laze in bed and fantasize about freedom, car rides and pussy. In the Yoruba tradition, Orgun is a blacksmith, and Cajardo, beating metal into submission, towered over the evening, terrifying in his anger, heartbreaking in his grief, both human and larger than human, and sometimes — like the play itself — wonderfully and unexpectedly funny.

Seth Caikowski has played sidekicks and leading men, dignified figures and cartoonish clowns. In Boulder's Dinner Theatre's The Full Monty, he got to display another aspect of his versatility as working-class Jerry, tough-minded and humorous, but emotionally vulnerable in his relationship with his young son and ex-wife. Since this is a musical about regular guys putting on a clumsy strip act, the dancing can't look too professional — but it should still be an audience-pleaser. Caikowski handled this contradiction with skill, athletically light on his feet without appearing dancer-trained. And he imbued the entire role with dignity and strength.

W.C. Fields is supposed to have said, "Never work with children or animals," but he could never have imagined the scene-stealing ability of a charming adult woman like Jamie Ann Romero playing the role of a dog in Sylvia. Sylvia is a stray brought home from the park by Greg, who's going through a midlife crisis. She's cute and appealing, and she worships him from the get-go, so naturally Greg becomes obsessed with her — to the distress of his wife, Kate. Sylvia can seem sensitive, thoughtful and empathetic, but she can also be a manipulative nuisance, peeing on the carpet, chewing Kate's shoes, humping a visitor's leg or snarling furiously at a passing cat. Romero threw herself into all these actions with relish, swinging enchantingly from mood to mood, and her playful presence made the entire Lone Tree Arts Center production magical.

She was so ordinary, this woman Emma, who burst into her dying ex-husband Ulysses's dilapidated trailer twenty years after she'd left him, absconding in the middle of the night with their son. She looked like anyone you'd find parking her car at the supermarket or sitting on the porch sipping beer and catching the rays of the setting sun. Low-key, affectionate, manipulative by turn, Kate Gleason's Emma was furious with Ulysses — and she also loved and wanted to take care of him, attempting to tidy up and, having seen the hideous contents of his fridge, buying groceries and cleaning supplies. But she also had her own kind of toughness. The strength of the Boulder Ensemble Theatre Company's production of Annapurna lay in the interchange between these two people, the grubby familiarity, old jokes and memories, banked-up fires of anger and betrayal. With strong support from Chris Kendall's Ulysses, Gleason brought Emma to profound and convincing life.

Niki is the ingenue of Curtains, an odd combination of murder mystery, farce and heartfelt tribute to musical theater. In the role, Erica Sweany was charming throughout, long-limbed and graceful, with a lovely singing voice. In the Arvada Center production, she really got to strut her stuff in a gorgeous Rogers-and-Astaire-style duet with Jim Poulos called "A Tough Act to Follow," a number that provided such pure, dizzy pleasure, you wanted it never to stop.

The Raven and the Writing Desk tapped artists Emi Brady and Tim Tindle to design the cover art for its luminous 2013 EP Scavenger. True to the band's imaginative aesthetic and songwriting, Brady and Tindle created a fold-out raven, colorful on the outside and black and white on the inside, where you'll find the bird's skeleton along with hand-lettered lyrics and credits. It's the perfect accompaniment for the group's literate, baroque pop songs. Many bands want to create a secret musical world, but The Raven and the Writing Desk went beyond the songs, providing a real work of art in which to wrap the music.