During these turbulent times, we hope you and your loved ones are safe, healthy and at peace. Whether you are risking your life to fight COVID-19, or to fight for justice with BLM, we know there will be a brighter future ahead.
Whit & Jennie
Some say they fight crime. Others say they mock it. Unconfirmed sightings place them at a lobster shack on Long Island, shopping for slippers and dumpling soup at a Flushing market, or walking up a darkened staircase on Ninth and Second. Night owls think they sleep; diurnals know them better. Were they born in the eighties, or do they just drive like it? They write for the thrill of it. They thrill for the right of it. Their plan is obscure but assured. Their mystery is the lack thereof. Whit and Jennie Hilton will see you again.
The aforementioned are but clues. The facts, scant though they may be, are as follows:
Whit graduated from New York University with a degree in an unmentionably impractical discipline, whereupon he made sandwiches for the gentry of Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn (nabe drop!) until filthy lucre's lure pierced his pizza hole, and he became a lawyer. He may now be found between the hours of nine to six in a very big building in the financial district, doing unmentionably practical things.
Jennie graduated from John Jay College of Criminal Justice, where she wrote her thesis on the theme of guilt in the works of original Elizabethan gangsta, Shakespeare. After supervising a young sandwich technician named Whit (yup, that guy again), she entered the wild world of alimentary bookkeeping. She is currently PA to a nice mid-sized family.
NEWS & EVENTS
Feast your eyes on a tantalizing preview of Jennie's new novel, 1.5:
Angie Kim is the most successful fixer in NYC's Korean-American community. She's also the most broke. Grateful clients don't always pay, and Angie doesn't always ask. So when her high school nemesis, now a rising corporate star, invites Angie to their high school reunion to discuss a case, Angie swallows her pride (and some soju) and shows up. To Angie's surprise, Lauren wants to make amends. But there's something desperate in her former classmate's eyes--something Angie soon fears may be unfixable.
Whit's got something cooking -- smells like a novel! It's called Namdaemun, and here's a taste:
American lawyer Ashley Suffolk could have blown the whistle, but all he did was blow it. Laid off by beseiged medical manufacturer Clarion, Ashley drifts through Seoul before being taken in by his mother's childhood friends, the famous Twin Aunts of Namdaemun Market's Twin Aunts Noodle Shop. Happily spending his severance pay on chimac, late night baduk games, and group hiking trips with the market's regulars, Ashley soon discovers a talent for finding people--first, his landladies' missing niece, who's fallen under the spell of a seedy expat club owner; and then, the only victim of the Clarion scandal willing to help him expose his former employer's cover-up. But when the victim is found murdered and her body abandoned in the middle of the largest protest in modern Korean history, Ashley becomes prime suspect--and to survive, he must finally confront an evil he thought he'd left behind.
Whit has penned a work of short crime fiction called "Richie's Filthy Lucre." Yes, you would like to read it.
Here is an excerpt:
When it comes to smells and remembrance, Proust can keep his cookies: I've got Axe Deodorant. Axe is how I solved the murder of Richard Rizzo - my Uncle Richie - and later how I escaped certain death at the hands of his murderer, a reprobate not in the rakish sense but in the Calvinistic one. So, apologies in advance if I ever see it on your bathroom sink, for I will no longer be companionable: Axe is redolent of a death avenged.
I won’t lie, though. Uncle Richie was the type to get murdered.
Mr. Hilton has also written "The Yushin Beast," a short political thriller. Read below if you dare (that's right, we dared you):
Approximately one thousand yards from the mountain safe-house where, on October 26, 1979, President of South Korea Park Chung-hee was assassinated, there is a restaurant serving excellent steamed dumplings. The seollontang, a bone broth of almost lascivious milkiness, is delicious, too, and when I first ate there I tried and failed to charm the chef, a smiley ex-customs official from Pyongyang, into sharing her recipe. Weeknights it is especially crowded with gourmands and the occasional cadre of academics, so it should have been a stroke of luck for American lawyer Ashley Suffolk to secure a pew at that veritable church of traditional cuisine, through whose southern window and the still-thin mist of time one might witness the slaughter of the Yushin Beast.
What, more? Yes! More! Whit has also penned a work of short horror fiction entitled "Bravo, Wolfman!"
There are moments in the progression of every disease when both affliction and cure flourish - when diagnosis achieves maximum creativity and reported cases explode. Late-medieval Switzerland, for instance: an ideal time to have lycanthropy, and an even better time to be cleansed of it! The hunt lent dignity; the burning-stake fame - or at least infamy. Even clinical lycanthropy - that pseudo-scientific exit off the wilder lanes of the faith/folklore feedback loop circa King James's Daemenologie - enjoyed serious study until the nineteenth century's great mental health re-think. Since then, my condition, like melancholy and the macarena, has entered a fallow period of scorn and parody - a pathogenetic valley coinciding with growing vacuity in the public mind. I am no longer quarry and offer no attraction to the clinic. I am now a teen franchise - and a passé one at that.
And yet, I’ve been cured.
That word, however, is misleading.
Want to read more of these scintillating stories? Send us an email: firstname.lastname@example.org
(Angie & Ash's Mix)
Soju (literally, "burned liquor") is a Korean liquor traditionally distilled from rice, wheat, or barley and typically consumed NEAT - though things may get messy afterwards. AKA iseul, from the native Korean word for dew. State regulations of California and New York specifically exempt soju from liquor licensing laws, effectively allowing restaurants with only a beer/wine license to serve it. Drink on!
Soju is great for tenderizing meat, and also for tenderizing the person eating the meat :)
Chimac, a portmanteau of "chicken" and "maekju" (beer), recognizes the joyous combination of double-fried Korean fried chicken and beer as a cusine in its own right. Sometimes served with "disco corn," i.e. corn smothered with melted cheese and sprinkled with gochukaru (red pepper flakes) (see photo, as if you weren't already looking at it). If it sounds that good, imagine how it TASTES!
IPA is one of our favorite beers to have with chimac. Don't miss this brewery when you're on Long Island!
Baduk is an abstract strategy game for two players, played on a gridded table using black and white stones, whose winner, by a combination of amassed territory and enemy capture, has acrrued the most points. Along with backgammon and chess, it's predecessor, Go, introduced to Korea from China sometime between the fifth and seventh centuries AD, is considered one of the oldest games in existence. Athough, like chess, it is a game of skill and tactics, it is distinguished from chess in that it does not have a predefined strategy (i.e., to kill the king) and allows for a greater degree of intuition; a single game of baduk is often described as a combination of eight simultaneous chess matches. Etymologically obscure, however some scscholarship suggests the word derives from the middle Korean word badok, meaning "flat and wide board."
The Yushin Beast is an epithet given to Park Chung-hee, third president of South Korea, whose 1972 Yushin (meaning "restoration") Constitution established Park as de factor dictator by, among other measures, designating to him one-third of the national assembly and granting him the power to suspend constitutional freedoms. Following Park's assassination in 1979, his assassin, Kim Jae-gyu, director of the Korean CIA and Park's close friend, stated in court that he "shot the heart of the Yushin in the heart of the beast." Historians today continue to debate Kim's motives for the assassination.