He was born the same night the Beatles worked past midnight recording "Drive My Car." He never really left.
Paco is two years old, sitting on the floor of a Grand Rapids basement, absorbing Sgt. Pepper like scripture, and somehow he already knows how the whole story ends. Decades later, that certainty becomes something else: mania, hospitalization, a love he can't have, a conversion he doesn't expect, and two and a half years living on the streets of a Michigan winter with nothing but a library card and a homeless shelter cot between him and the cold.
922 is a raw, funny, and often unbearably honest account of a mind that never stops connecting dots, between the British Invasion and a broken childhood, between faith and psychosis, between a 19-year-old's kindness and a 37-year-old's ruin. And when Paco finally surfaces on the other side, he turns that same pattern-hunting mind toward the biggest mystery of his life's soundtrack: the decades-old rumor that Paul McCartney died in 1966, and the numerology trail he believes connects it straight to John Lennon's murder.
Part coming-of-age memoirish fiction, part fever-dream cultural history, part testimony, 922 is for readers who've ever needed the universe to mean something, and were willing to go a little mad chasing the proof.
The author states plainly: "The book is fiction, but it happened."
